Chapter 33 He Clearly Doesn't Love Her, But Why Does He Feel Hurt
Grace felt utterly humiliated.
Henry made her feel like even with the title of Mrs. Montague; she was just his plaything.
From the past to now, he had never shown her any respect. To him, she was just a cheap woman.
In the 1000-square-foot home theater, Grace's low, pleading voice and Henry's satisfied panting echoed. He hadn't felt this good in a long time.
Henry gazed down at Grace, unable to see her face, which left him wanting more. Gently, he pulled her blonde hair to the side and kissed her.
Grace was dazed as he took her.
She held a fruit knife in her hand, which she had grabbed during her struggle.
Feeling desolate and absurd, Grace understood that upon leaving this room, she would resume her role as the seemingly dignified yet entirely selfless Mrs. Montague. She feared Henry might confine her at home, rendering her a woman hidden from public view.
This future was not what Grace desired. She refused to regress to her former life, and she couldn't bear the thought of Clara being imprisoned. Trapped with limited alternatives, she grappled with her next move.
Henry was caught off guard when he was pushed away!
He looked at Grace in shock. At this moment, they were both in a disheveled state.
Grace knelt on the sofa, holding the fruit knife. Even though her hands trembled slightly, she had it firmly, as if that insignificant little knife could protect her.
Henry's once warm blue eyes turned cold, signaling his waning interest.
He slowly zipped up his pants, looked at her coldly, and sneered, "Mrs. Montague, are you planning to murder me with that? Do you have the guts?"
Grace's face looked haggard.
Her lips trembled as she stared at Henry. "Henry, no matter what I say, you won't believe me. I didn't do it on purpose back then; I really went to room 6201. No matter what I say, you'll think I schemed to become Mrs. Montague, won't you?"
Henry remained silent.
Silence sometimes equated to acquiescence.
Grace suddenly laughed, a bitter laugh, continuing, "Yes! You can indeed choose not to believe me! So, Henry, can I atone for my sins now? Use me to atone for the mistakes I made, for my youthful ignorance, for how much I once liked you!"
The tip of the knife turned, pointing at herself.
The cold blade cut through, and her delicate wrist was covered in blood, dripping down.
A bloodstain quickly spread on the carpet, shocking to the eye!
Henry was stunned; he didn't expect Grace to do this!
He took a step forward, but Grace stepped back. She seemed to feel no pain from her wrist and seemed unaware that losing so much blood could kill her. She continued to smile, asking him, "Henry, is this enough?"
"If it's not enough, I can continue to atone until Mr. Montague is satisfied," she added.
She cut her arm again and again without hesitation. The girl who once feared pain now seemed to know nothing of it.
Henry stared at her, watching her resolute expression.
He knew that if he didn't compromise, Grace could die from blood loss right there. She wasn't afraid of death now.
Besides shock, perhaps something else stirred his soul, moving him internally. Finally, Henry heard himself compromise, "Fine! I'll have the Williams family drop the charges. Clara will be home tonight."
The fruit knife fell to the ground, and Grace fainted from blood loss, collapsing on the sofa, covered in blood.
It was a scene Henry would never forget.
Grace woke up at 2 AM.
The lights were soft, the walls were white, and there was a faint smell of medicine in the air.
In the luxurious VIP room of the Montague Group Hospital, two doctors were engaged in conversation with Henry.
"Excessive blood loss!"
"She's stable after the transfusion, but it depends on when Mrs. Montague wants to wake up. Her will to live isn't very strong right now."
"By morning at the latest! If she doesn't wake up by then, we suggest a full-body checkup."
The doctors stayed for a moment and then left.
Henry escorted them out and closed the door. When he turned around, he saw that Grace was awake.
Her small face was pressed against the white pillow, her blonde hair spread loosely across it. Her hospital gown was loose, adding a touch of fragile beauty to her sickly appearance.
Henry watched her quietly for a few seconds before walking over.
He sat by the bed, gently asking, "You've been out for five hours. Are you hungry? I'll have someone bring some food."
Grace buried her face in the pillow, avoiding eye contact and refusing to talk.
Henry knew what she was thinking. He said calmly, "Clara is out now. She's at Serenity General Hospital. Grace, you can stay silent, but I don't think you want your father and the others to know what happened tonight."
Finally, Grace spoke, "Clara is back?"
Henry gently touched her haggard face, mocking slightly, "If she hadn't come back, I might have lost my wife."
Grace turned her face away in distress.
Henry withdrew his hand after a brief touch, then summoned someone to bring food. He poured Grace a glass of water, saying, "Have some water."
Grace was too weak to sit up on her own. Observing her struggle, Henry watched for a moment before gently supporting her with one hand, allowing her to lean against his shoulder.
Through the thin fabric of his shirt, Grace could smell his pure masculine scent, along with a faint hint of intimacy, a remnant of their earlier encounter.
That scent made Grace feel wretched. Her mind replayed the scene of Henry pressing her down on the sofa, taking her. Although it wasn't the first time since their marriage, this time felt especially humiliating.
"What are you thinking about?" Henry put the cup aside, gently pinching her chin to make her look at him.
Grace's haggard face blushed slightly.
Suddenly, Henry guessed what she was thinking.
His long fingers gently brushed her velvety lips, his voice turning husky. "It's not like we haven't done it on the sofa before. You didn't resist that position before."
Not only did she not resist, but from a man's perspective, that position seemed to excite Grace the most. She often made him almost lose control.
He spoke about their intimate moments without any sign of embarrassment.
Grace, not wanting to delve into the topic, pressed her face against the pillow and spoke slowly, "I want to rest now."
At that moment, there was a knock on the door.
Henry stared at Grace's face for a moment before going to open the door.
Celeste stood at the door.
As Henry's executive secretary, it was a bit of a waste for her to be delivering food in the middle of the night. But if tonight's events were to get out, it would be a scandal, so the Montague Group Hospital had sealed off this entire floor.
No one knew that Mrs. Montague had been hospitalized for self-harm.
Celeste didn't come in. Henry took the food and closed the door.
Standing at a distance, she gazed at the closed door, lost in contemplation. Although she hadn't witnessed the exchange, she could infer what had transpired. Moreover, during their brief interaction, she had detected a subtle aura of intimacy surrounding Henry.
They had been at the hotel and had been intimate.
She couldn't help but wonder how intense it must have been for Grace to resist like that.
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