Chapter 8

The crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the Maple Grove dining room's mahogany walls, their light catching on the sterling silver place settings that had graced Harding family dinners for generations. Oil paintings of stern-faced ancestors looked down from gilded frames, their eyes seeming to follow my every move as I took my assigned seat beside Grace.

I adjusted my high-necked blouse, ensuring it covered the bruises Henry had left. My fingers trembled slightly as I looked at Henry, but I kept my expression neutral. Five years of practice had taught me how to wear a mask.

Billy sat across from me, his small face serious as he mimicked William's perfect posture. My heart ached with love for him, this little boy who tried so hard to be what everyone expected. He caught my eye and gave me a quick smile, which I returned before dropping my gaze to my empty plate.

"Isabella," Grace suddenly said. "You and Henry are simply meant to be together, like something out of a fairy tale!"

I kept my eyes on my water glass, watching condensation bead on the crystal. The divorce papers in Henry's study felt like a time bomb, ticking away in my mind.

"Thank you, Grace." Isabella's voice was honey-sweet. "You're too kind."

"I'm telling the truth!" Grace's voice carried a note of triumph. "You must join us for dinner every day. Henry only smiles when you're around."

Isabella lowered her eyes demurely. "Grace, I wouldn't want to intrude on family time."

"Family time?" Grace laughed, the sound sharp as breaking glass. "Oh, Isabella, you're more family than some people here." Her eyes slid meaningfully in my direction. "Remember how you used to spend every holiday with us? The way you and Henry would sneak off to the garden maze?"

"Those were wonderful times," Isabella sighed softly, her hand ghosting over Henry's sleeve. "But things change, don't they?"

"They shouldn't have," Grace pressed, leaning forward. "Everyone knows you two were perfect together. The way Henry looked at you at every charity gala, how you'd finish each other's sentences. Even Mother said there wasn't a better match in all of New York society."

Catherine nodded approvingly. "Isabella has always understood our family's values and traditions."

"And the way you support Henry's work," Grace continued, warming to her theme. "You've attended every major business dinner, helped secure countless deals. That's what a true Harding wife should be!"

I kept my expression carefully blank, though my fingers clenched in my lap. Through the elaborate centerpiece, I could see Henry watching the exchange, his face unreadable.

"You're embarrassing me," Isabella protested, but her pleased smile said otherwise. "Though I must admit, those business dinners were always fascinating. It was an honor to witness Henry's brilliant negotiations."

From the corner of my eye, I saw William's fingers tighten on his fork. The family patriarch had always valued discretion above all else, and Grace's behavior was anything but discreet.

"Isabella," Grace continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "you've been so patient all these years. It must have been heartbreaking when Grandfather suddenly arranged Henry's marriage to... someone else."

The silence that followed was heavy with implication. Catherine cleared her throat delicately, while Richard became very interested in his soup. William's expression darkened, but before he could speak, Grace pressed on.

"After all, you and Henry were childhood sweethearts..."

"Grace." William's voice cut through the air like a blade. "That's enough."

"No, it's not enough!" Grace's composure cracked. "Why did you have to tear them apart? Isabella and Henry belonged together! What right did you have to..."

"I am the head of this family." William's voice was deadly quiet. "I decide what's best for..."

"Best for whom?" Grace shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the hardwood floor. "Best for the family? Or best for your ego? Yes, I'm challenging your authority! Why did you have to destroy Isabella and my brother's happiness?"

William's face went chalk-white. His hand clutched at his chest as he struggled to breathe.

I was moving before I realized it. "Grandpa, try to stay calm. Henry, call Dr. Peterson immediately. Dad, help me get him to the bedroom, he needs to lie down."

Henry was already on his phone, barking orders. Isabella hovered uncertainly, her perfect composure slipping. "Henry, shouldn't I..."

"Sophia knows what she's doing," William managed between gasps, his hand gripping mine. "She's the only one... thinking clearly..."

We got him settled in the bedroom just as Dr. Peterson arrived. After a tense examination and medication, William's color improved. His breathing steadied, but the evening's events had taken their toll.

Richard paced by the fireplace while Catherine dabbed at her eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. Henry stood like a statue near the door, his expression unreadable. Grace had followed us, her earlier bravado replaced by fear.

"Grace, Look what you've done!" Richard said loudly.

"Dad," Grace whispered, "I'm your daughter, How can you take an outsider's side over mine?"

Grace's voice louder, she continued, "Dad, you were there! You saw how perfect Henry and Isabella were together. You attended all their school events, their dance recitals. You used to say they were destined for each other! How can you stand there now and pretend this is okay?"

Richard looked at her with a mixture of exhaustion and disappointment. "You're confined to your quarters until further notice. No social events, no phone, no visitors. And you will make a formal apology to everyone present tonight."

"But Dad..."

"You want to challenge my authority too?" Richard's voice was loud and firm.

Grace's face crumpled. "You're choosing her over me? I'm your daughter!"

Her words hung in the air, unanswered. I watched her, thinking about my marriage to Henry. In a way, I understood her pain. We were both trapped in roles we hadn't chosen, fighting battles we couldn't win.

The grandfather clock in the corner struck nine, its chimes echoing through the mansion. The Harding family dinner had ended in chaos, but this time, something felt different. As I helped William to his feet, I caught Henry watching me with an expression I couldn't read.