Chapter 19
His fingers dug into my jaw as he held me against the restroom wall the expensive marble cold against my back, Henry’s grey eyes burned with a familiar mix of anger and contempt, but I wasn’t afraid.
“You are not qualified to say her name,” his voice dropped to that dangerous whisper I knew so well, “The only thing you need to do is play the good Mrs. Harding,”
Something inside me snapped. Five years of submission, of trying to earn his love, of watching him worship Isabella Scott, it all crystallized into a single moment of perfect clarity, A laugh bubbled up from my chest, surprising us both with its bitter edge.
“You’re right!” I met his gaze steadily, feeling tears of frustration build behind my eyes. “I’m not worthy of speaking the precious Isabella’s name. That privilege belongs to her most faithful lapdog you!”
Henry fingers tightened painfully on my jaw. “Watch your mouth.”
“Why are you even here?” I continued, recklessness born of desperation giving me strength. “Shouldn’t you be running back to your goddess? Quick, Henry, before she gets angry! We all know how much you hate disappointing Isabella!”
The way his name fell from my lips like poison seemed to startle him. This wasn’t his usual docile wife, the woman who’d spent five years trying to please him. This was someone else entirely, a stranger wearing my face, speaking with my voice, but filled with a fire he’d never seen before.
“What’s wrong?” I taunted, finally wrenching free of his grip. “Can’t handle hearing the truth? That you’re nothing but Isabella Scott’s well–trained pet?”
I straightened to my full height, channeling these years of suppressed rage into my voice. In that moment, I felt like an avenging angel risen from the grave of my former self. Henry actually took a step back, something like uncertainty flickering across his ‘ perfect features.
“Henry Harding,” I spat his name like a curse, “if you’re man enough, sign those divorce papers. Stop hiding behind Isabella’s skirts!
His hand shot out to grab me again, but I was already moving past him toward the door. At the threshold, I turned back, letting him see the contempt in my eyes. “A man who needs a woman to fight his battles doesn’t deserve respect. You and Isabella deserve each
other, a toxic woman for a worthless man!”
I left him standing there, my heart hammering against my ribs but my head held high. The restaurant’s elegantosphere washed over me as I strode past Thomas and Betty’s table, grabbing my coat without stopping.
“Sophia?” Betty’s concerned voice followed me, but I couldn’t stay. Not with Henry’s presence burning holes in my back, not with Isabella’s perfectly made–up face watching my retreat with calculated satisfaction.
November arrived with an unexpected cold snap, turning Manhattan into a landscape of premature winter. The trees along Park Avenue still clung to their golden leaves, unprepared for the sudden frost. I stood at the window of Betty’s guest room, watching
early winter rain transform the city into a blur of grey and gold.
A week had passed since I’d moved into her Park Avenue apartment. The heating was on full blast, but I couldn’t shake the chill that had settled into my bones. I remembered other winters, when Henry’s body heat had been enough to keep me warm. Now, those memories felt like they belonged to someone else – a naive girl who thought patience and love could thaw a frozen heart.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated, Henry’s private number lighting up the screen. After our confrontation in the restaurant, he’d been suspiciously quiet. I let it ring twice before answering.
“Where are you?” His voice carried that familiar note of command.
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Chapter 19
“That’s none of your business. I kept my voice steady, professional.ust tell me when you’ll sign the divorce papers?
40
The scratch of his fountain pen against paper carried through the line he was in his office then, probably surrounded by the trappings of Harding power,
“Henry,” I continued when he didn’t respond, “stop dragging this out What would Isabella think? We wouldn’t want her to suspect you actually care about me,”
“Grandfather is sick.” The words fell like stones into the silence between us. “He wants to see Billy.”
My heart clenched. Despite everything, William had always been kind to me. “How bad is it?”
“Manhattan General. Now.” Henry hung up without waiting for my response.
The familiar antiseptic smell of the hospital wrapped around me as made my way to Thomas’s office. As Chief of Internal Medicine, he has had a deep understanding of William–like diseases. The door was open, and he looked up as I entered, his warm brown eyes crinkling with concern.
“How bad William’s condition really is?” I asked without preamble.
Thomas sighed, running a hand through his silver–streaked hair. “The heart valve damage is severe. Without a transplant… He trailed off, the implications clear,
“There has to be another way.” I sank into the chair across from his desk, the weight of the situation settling onto my shoulders. “Thomas, please tell me there’s something else we can try.”
“We’ll keep him stable while we wait for a matching donor.” His voice was gentle but firm. “I promise you, Sophia, I’m doing everything I can.”
I stared at my hands, twisted together in my lap. “I understand now,” I whispered. “I regret not finishing medical school so much. If I’d spent these five years studying instead of…”
“Sophia.” Thomas reached across the desk, his hand hovering near mine but not quite touching. “No one can predict the future. Don’t blame yourself. All we can do now is focus on helping Mr. Harding.”
“Well, well.” At this moment, Isabella’s voice from the doorway made us both jump. “Henry, isn’t that Mrs. Harding with Dr.
Sanders?”
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