Chapter 197
Despite how his gorgeous face affected me–those perfect features that still made my heart skip–I maintained my composure. Henry deliberately moved closer, his cologne enveloping me as he leaned in to whisper something undoubtedly manipulative. I wasn’t falling for it. Who knew what scheme this man was plotting now?
“Sophia,” he murmured, his voice softer than I’d heard in years. “Can’t we just enjoy today? For Billy’s sake?”
I stepped back, creating distance between us. “That’s rich coming from you.”
In the past, whenever I needed his companionship, his response was always the same: he’d just taken over the company, he was busy, he couldn’t focus on anything else. Every time he said this, I worked harder to manage our home and Billy, ensuring he had no worries beyond his precious business. The more considerate and gentle I became, the more he took it for granted. He never once asked what I needed or spent time with me and our son.
For so long, I’d been trapped in a cycle of self–doubt and self–denial.
‘You know what I remember most about the last few years, Henry?” I asked, my voice surprisingly steady. “After Isabella returned, you suddenly had all the time in the world–for her. You came home later and later. Sometimes you didn’t come home at all.”
His jaw tightened, but I continued.
“During those nights, lying awake in our empty bed, I kept asking myself one question: Why did you have so much time for Isabella but none for Billy and
me?”
I looked directly into his eyes. “And then I finally understood. The one who is favored always takes advantage. With me, you were the favored one.”
Henry’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white against the seam of his tailored pants. I could tell he was furious–probably wanting to smash something, maybe even my face.
“Divorce! Always divorce!” he exploded. “Do you have nothing else to say to me except divorce?”
His outburst drew attention from nearby shoppers, but he didn’t seem to care.
“Sophia, we are still married! Until we have divorce papers, you are still my wife! Remember that!” Henry was completely infuriated now. He’d clearly thought his attempts at being nice would win me over, and my rejection had pushed him over the edge.
I laughed humorlessly. “During our marriage, you were intimate with Isabella, kissing her, even taking bedroom photos. Did you remember I was your wife
then?
Henry looked genuinely pained, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “Those photos were doctored. You can’t believe them. There’s nothing between Isabella and me! We never slept together!”
I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, staring at him in disbelief. “So not sleeping together means everything between you was pure and innocent?”
Henry flinched at the word “innocent,” his eyes narrowing.
n’t play these
I seized the opportunity to explain. “Innocence means that during our marriage, you didn’t have anyone else in your heart. It means intimate games with other women. No hand–holding, no kissing, no embracing–no intimate physical contact of any kind.” I looked directly into his eyes.
“Tell me honestly, Henry. Didn’t you hold Isabella? Didn’t she kiss your cheek? Didn’t you embrace her?”
In truth, I’d been extremely tolerant with Henry. I understood that his position meant interacting with various women in social settings, and he usually maintained appropriate boundaries.
But with Isabella, it was completely different.
Henry was speechless, unable to deny any of it. Then his expression darkened.
“What about you, Sophia?” he countered, his voice laced with venom. “When Thomas kissed you, didn’t that make you ‘impure” too?”
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Chapter 197
I froze. The accusation hit me like a slap. Henry had initially come to apologize and he nice, but my constant emphasis on his mistakes had finally b
his patience.
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