Chapter 2

After taking a deep breath，I made my way to the nurse's station. My steps faltered when I heard the unmistakable click of heels against marble flooring, accompanied by a masculine voice that made my heart clench.

"Easy now." Henry's voice carried that gentle tone I'd almost forgotten existed. "You shouldn't push yourself."

I ducked behind a large potted plant, but it was too late to completely avoid them. Isabella Scott was draped across Henry's arm like she belonged there, her white suit pristine despite the late hour. Her platinum hair cascaded in perfect waves, and even under the unflattering hospital lighting, her makeup remained flawless.

"Oh, Henry," Isabella's breathy voice carried clearly down the corridor. "I'm just feeling a bit faint. These awful hospital lights..." She swayed dramatically against him, her manicured fingers clutching his lapel.

I watched as Henry's expression softened in a way I'd never seen during our five years of marriage. Without hesitation, he swept Isabella into his arms, cradling her against his chest. "Don't force yourself if you're not feeling well."

The tenderness in his voice made my throat tight. In five years, he'd never once shown me such concern. Even when I was pregnant with Billy...

"Henry!" Isabella's voice suddenly rang out, sharp and clear. "Isn't that Mrs. Harding over there?"

I straightened my spine, stepping out from behind the plant. There was no point in hiding now. My wrinkled blouse and messy ponytail felt suddenly conspicuous under Isabella's gaze.

"How interesting to run into you here." Isabella's smile didn't reach her eyes as Henry continued to hold her. "We really must stop and say hello, Henry. After all, we're all Boston girls."

The way she emphasized 'Boston' made it clear she was referring to our vastly different social circles back home. While she'd attended debutante balls, I'd been working part-time jobs to help pay for medical school.

Henry's gray eyes swept over me with clinical detachment. "There's no need. You'll only upset yourself."

"Don't worry." Isabella's voice dripped honey-coated venom. "I heard your son is ill? How convenient that he fell ill just when Henry returned from his business trip. You're not using the child's health to manipulate attention, are you, dear Sophia?"

"That's not...I never..." The words stuck in my throat as Henry's expression darkened.

"I..." I started to defend myself, but was cut off by the rapid approach of running footsteps.

"Mrs. Harding!" A nurse rushed toward me, her face tight with concern. "You need to come quickly. Your son's temperature has spiked to 105.8, and he's showing signs of febrile seizures!"

My heart stopped. "What? But he was stable just..."

"The attending physician has been called to the 18th floor for Miss Scott's routine examination," the nurse continued, shooting a nervous glance at Isabella. "We're trying to locate another doctor, but..."

I didn't wait to hear more, already running toward Billy's room. Behind me, I heard Isabella's theatrical sigh, "Oh dear, it seems the help these hours simply doesn't know how to properly care for children..."

Room 1630 felt like it was miles away. When I burst through the door, the sight of my son's small body convulsing on the bed nearly brought me to my knees.

"Help me with the cooling measures," the nurse ordered, already pulling off Billy's blanket. "We need to get his temperature down now!"

My hands shook as I tried to open the bottle of rubbing alcohol. The cap wouldn't budge, and when it finally did, half the contents splashed across my shirt. The sharp smell burned my nose as I helped the nurse apply cool compresses to Billy's skin.

"Mommy..." Billy's voice was barely a whisper between shallow breaths. "It hurts..."

"I know, baby. I know." I fought to keep my voice steady. "Just hold on. The doctor will be here soon."

But I knew that wasn't true. Every available physician had been summoned to the 18th floor, where Isabella Scott was having her 'routine' check-up. The entire floor had been cleared for her privacy, with regular nursing staff prohibited from entering.

As I watched my son struggle for breath, rage began to replace my fear. This wasn't just about Isabella's petty power plays anymore. She'd orchestrated this entire scene—her 'emergency' exam scheduled at the exact time she knew Billy would be here, monopolizing the hospital's resources while my son suffered.

The monitors beeped in warning as Billy's temperature continued to climb. I pressed the call button repeatedly, knowing it was useless. In the Hardings' world, money and power determined everything, even access to medical care.

Through the glass walls of Billy's room, I caught a glimpse of Henry carrying Isabella toward the elevator. She was laughing now, all signs of her previous 'weakness' gone. As the doors closed on them, I turned back to my son, squeezing his small hand in mine.

"Stay with me, sweetheart," I whispered, wiping his forehead with a cool cloth. "Just stay with me."

The night stretched endlessly ahead, marked only by the steady beep of monitors and my son's labored breathing. In this moment, watching Billy fight for every breath, I finally realized some truths about my marriage with Henry. For the past five years, it has all been one-sided on my part, Henry would never love me.

And my son was paying the price for my naïveté.