Chapter 9

The mahogany-paneled walls of William's bedroom seemed to close in around us as I watched his chest rise and fall with each labored breath. The evening's drama had taken its toll on his already fragile health. Dr. Peterson had just administered medication, but the tension in the room remained thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Dad, why you punish me!" Grace's voice shattered the tenuous calm. She stood in the doorway, her designer dress wrinkled from her earlier outburst, her perfectly manicured hands clenched into fists. "I'm your daughter! I said nothing wrong!"

William's breathing hitched at the sound, his face paling further, and he was coughing violently again.

"Shut up!" Richard walked out of the bedroom and yelled at Grace.

"Why should I shut up? You're choosing that nobody over me?" Grace's voice rose higher, hysteria creeping in. "That gold-digger who trapped Henry into marriage? Who's trying to steal our family fortune?"

I saw William's hand clutch at his chest, his breathing becoming more labored. Something inside me snapped. Five years of careful submission, of swallowing my words, of playing the perfect docile wife – it all fell away in that moment.

"Enough!" My voice cut through the room like a blade. I walked over to Grace, and for the first time since entering the Harding family, I let my true self show. "Can't you see you're killing him? Is that what you want? To murder your grandfather because you can't control your temper?"

Grace took a step back, clearly shocked by my transformation. I advanced on her, my voice low and dangerous. "If anything happens to him because of your childish tantrum, you will pay for it. Do you understand me?"

"How... how dare you speak to me like that!" Grace stammered, but I could see the fear in her eyes.

"Sophia is right." William's voice was weak but clear. "Grace, do you want me to die?"

Before Grace could respond, Isabella fell to her knees suddenly.

"Mr. Harding," Isabella sank gracefully to her knees beside his bed, her performance timed to perfection. "This is all my fault. Grace was only defending me. If anyone should be punished, it should be me."

Henry materialized beside her instantly, his hands gentle as he tried to help her up. "Isabella, don't. It's not your fault."

Isabella coughed delicately into a lace handkerchief. "I couldn't bear to see Grace suffer because of me."

I watched Henry cradle Isabella in his arms, his expensive shirt wrinkling as she pressed against him. His gray eyes held nothing but tenderness as he looked at her, a look I'd never seen directed at me in five years of marriage.

"Henry," Isabella's voice was breathy, vulnerable. "I would never cause trouble in your family. You know that, don't you?"

"I trust you," Henry declared, those three words carrying more weight than all our years of marriage.

I felt something inside me shatter at his words, but strangely, it brought clarity rather than pain. I looked at the scene before me - Henry holding Isabella, Grace hovering anxiously nearby, Catherine watching with approval – and finally saw it all clearly.

"How interesting, Mrs. Scott," my voice was calm, almost conversational, "that as an outsider, you seem to have such influence over the Harding family's internal matters. Those words Grace spoke earlier, they didn't sound like her at all. They sounded more like... careful coaching."

Isabella's eyes widened in feigned innocence. "I would never! Sophia, how could you think..."

"You doesn't need to explain anything," Henry cut in, his arms tightening around Isabella. "I said I trust you."

I met his gaze steadily, seeing not the man I'd married, but a stranger caught in Isabella's carefully woven web. "Of course you do, Henry. You always have."

"Sophia!" Grace's voice rose again. "How dare you accuse Isabella! She's worth ten of you!"

I turned to Grace, really looking at her for the first time. Behind the designer clothes and perfect makeup, I saw what I'd missed before – a spoiled child who'd never grown up, manipulated by someone far cleverer than herself.

"You know what's truly sad, Grace?" I said softly. "You're so eager to defend someone who's using you that you can't even see it happening."

At this moment, Catherine rose from her chair, her voice sharp. "Shut up! How dare you speak to my daughter this way?"

"You should shut up!" I retorted, the sound startling in its genuineness. "Have you ever treated me as a family member?"

"Sophia," Henry's voice held a warning, but for the first time, I wasn't afraid of it.

I looked at him, still holding Isabella, still believing her act, and felt only pity. "You know what's truly pathetic? You're so blinded by her that you can't even see how she's manipulating everyone. Grace is just her puppet, saying exactly what Isabella wants her to say."

"That's not true!" Grace screamed. "Isabella loves me like a sister!"

I turned back to William, who had been watching the scene unfold with shrewd eyes. "I apologize for the disturbance, Grandpa. You need rest. Shall I ask Dr. Peterson to return?"

William's lips curved in what might have been a smile. "Sophia," he said softly, "in times of crisis, you're the only one I can count on."

I nodded, then headed for the door. As I passed Henry and Isabella, I paused. "You know, Henry," I said quietly, "when you said you trust her, you finally gave me the answer I've been looking for all these years."

After saying that, I turned to leave. Before I could reach the door, Grace's shrill voice cut through the air.

"Who do you think you are?" she shouted. "If you hadn't married my brother, you wouldn't even be qualified to step foot in our house! You're not worth even a single strand of Isabella's hair!"

Hearing Grace's words, I couldn't help but smile at her outburst.

"What are you smiling at?" Grace demanded, her face reddening with fury.

"Nothing," I replied calmly. "It's just my first time seeing someone this stupid. I find it rather amusing."