Chapter 5

I was about to go to the restroom to wash my face and then return to look after Billy. As I stepped out of the room, a hand suddenly grabbed me. Before I could process what was happening, I was yanked backward, stumbling against a hard chest I knew all too well.

"Henry!" I gasped, struggling to regain my balance.

His fingers dug into my wrist, hard enough to leave marks. The perfectly tailored suit couldn't hide the tension in his shoulders, the barely contained fury in his stance. His grey eyes, usually so cold and distant, now burned with an intensity that made my breath catch.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" His voice was low, dangerous.

I tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. "Henry, I just happened to run into Thomas. That's all."

"That's all?" He sneered. "You're out here playing happy families with your old flame, and you say that's all?"

"What, you can be intimate with Miss Scott, but I can't even speak to another person?" The words burst out before I could stop them.

After hearing my words, Henry eyes narrowed dangerously. Without warning, he dragged me toward the emergency stairwell, shoving open the heavy door with enough force to make it bang against the wall.

The stairwell was dim, lit only by the eerie green glow of exit signs. The space felt suffocating, amplifying the sound of our breathing. Henry released my wrist only to slam both hands against the wall on either side of my head, caging me in.

"You want to talk about Isabella?" His breath fanned across my face. "Fine, let's talk. But first, explain to me what you were doing with Thomas Sanders."

I pressed my hands against my chest, trying to still my racing heart.

"Henry," I forced the words past the lump in my throat, "let's get divorced."

The silence that followed was deafening. Then came a low, disbelieving laugh.

"What did you say?"

I clenched my fists, drawing strength from the pain of my nails digging into my palms. "These five years must have been torture for you, being tied to someone you don't love. I'm setting you free." My voice grew stronger with each word. "Don't worry, I only want Billy. Nothing else."

The laugh died in his throat. In the dim light, Henry expression transformed from mockery to pure rage.

"You want to divorce me?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "First you decide to marry me, now you decide to divorce me? Have you ever considered my opinion in any of this?"

Henry moved closer, the expensive fabric of his suit brushing against me. "Or is this about Thomas Sanders? He comes back, and suddenly you want a divorce?"

"This isn't about Thomas!" I tried to push him away, but he caught my hands, pinning them above my head with one strong grip. "This is about us, about how you..."

His other hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Listen carefully, Sophia Wilson. No one toys with the Harding family and gets away with it. You won't be an exception."

"I'm not toying with..." I wanted to explain.

Suddenly, Henry's mouth crashed down on mine, cutting off my words. This wasn't a kiss, it was punishment, all teeth and bruising force. He bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth when I gasped in pain.

I struggled against his grip, but he only pressed closer, his body pinning me against the wall. His free hand moved down my body, fingers digging into my hip with bruising force. I felt his growing arousal press against me as his hand moved to the waistband of my pants.

Panic surged through me. This wasn't happening. Not here, not like this.

I bit down hard on his tongue, tasting copper. Henry jerked back with a curse, finally releasing my hands. I slapped him with all my strength, the sound echoing in the confined space.

"How dare you!" My voice shook with rage and fear. "Is this how you solve everything? With force?"

Blood trickled from the corner of Henry's mouth as he touched his split lip. His grey eyes had turned almost black. "You want to know what you are to me, Sophia?" His voice was eerily calm. "You're my wife. My property. And if you think I'll let you walk away just because your old flame showed up..."

"Property?" I laughed, the sound brittle even to my own ears. "Is that what I am to you, Henry? A possession? Something you can lock away while you parade around with Isabella?"

"Don't say her name!" he snarled, taking a threatening step forward.

I held my ground, though my heart hammered against my ribs. "Why not? Everyone knows she's the one you love. The perfect Isabella Scott, your precious first love. Tell me, Henry, why did you marry me if you love her so much? Was it just to please your grandfather? To secure your inheritance?"

Suddenly, His hand shot out, grabbing my throat. Not squeezing, but the threat was clear. "You know nothing about Isabella and me."

"I know enough." I met his gaze steadily, even as tears threatened to fall. "I know you've never looked at me the way you look at her. I know you've never shown me an ounce of the tenderness you showed her tonight. And I know..." my voice cracked, "I know I can't do this anymore."

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes, something that wasn't rage or contempt. But before I could identify it, his expression hardened again.

Henry leaned close, his lips brushing my ear. "You're the mother of my son. My legal wife. And that's all you'll ever be. If you try to divorce me..." His grip tightened fractionally. "Well, you remember what happened to Uncle Robert when he tried to leave the family, don't you?"

"Are you threatening me?" I whispered.

"I'm reminding you of reality." He released my throat, straightening his tie with perfect composure. "You're a Harding now, Sophia. That comes with certain obligations. Breaking those obligations has consequences."

He turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Oh, and Sophia? If I ever see you alone with Thomas Sanders again..." He didn't finish the threat. He didn't need to.

The door closed behind him with a soft click that seemed to echo in the sudden silence. My legs finally gave out, and I slid down the wall, wrapping my arms around my knees.

In the sickly green light of the exit sign, I touched my bruised lips, my aching throat, the tender spots on my wrist that would surely bruise. This was what my marriage had become, a prison of wealth and power, where love was a weakness and control was everything.

I didn't know what would happen next. I didn't know if I'd find the courage to follow through with divorce, or if Henry's threats would keep me trapped in this golden cage. But I knew one thing with absolute certainty:

I was done pretending this was a marriage.

The night stretched ahead, dark and uncertain. But for the first time in five years, I wasn't just enduring it.

I was planning my escape.