Chapter 37 Gavin's Message
Henry had been lounging in the living room all afternoon.
As dusk settled, he finally picked up the phone and called Celeste. "Get Francis over here to draft a divorce agreement."
Celeste was silent for a moment, stunned. "Mr. Montague, you mean a divorce?"
Henry hung up without another word. Celeste blinked, finally understanding Grace's intentions.
A wave of excitement washed over her. If Grace wanted a divorce, maybe she, Celeste, had a shot.
She had a much better chance than Elodie!
Half an hour later, Celeste showed up at the villa with lawyer Francis Dixon.
The study was thick with tension.
The servants sensed it, too. After serving coffee, they quickly retreated downstairs. They recognized Francis and guessed Henry was divorcing Grace.
The coffee sat untouched.
Henry stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, the sunset casting a lonely shadow. He quietly told Francis to draft the agreement.
The terms he offered Grace were stingy.
After three years of marriage, all she got was a 1,200-square-foot apartment and $300,000. For a family as wealthy as the Montagues, it was laughable.
However, Henry didn't care.
He thought, 'Grace is getting her freedom; she shouldn't be greedy. They had a prenup, and he was already being more than fair.'
Still, he felt a bit uneasy.
Henry didn't consider himself soft-hearted, but this time, he was. Maybe it was because Grace cried on the pillow or begged him with red eyes to let her go, or maybe it was her diary, showing her youthful affection for him and reminding him of how she used to call him "Henry."
Their marriage wasn't terrible. Apart from the lack of love, he was willing to give her everything else. But Grace didn't want any of it. She didn't love him anymore.
Henry tilted his head back, his eyes feeling warm. He blamed it on the heat being too high.
Behind him, Francis read the agreement aloud.
"Mr. Montague, is this how you want it?"
Henry stood silent for a moment, then approached the agreement. He read it twice before reaching for the pen. But as he held it, he froze.
Once he signed, he and Grace would no longer be husband and wife.
No one would call him "Henry" in that soft tone anymore.
He wasn't sure if this feeling was reluctance, but he definitely felt hesitation and regret. Maybe he shouldn't have made this decision.
Letting her go like this felt too easy.
Celeste had been watching him.
She was a woman, so she could see Henry's special feelings for Grace. No matter how much he disliked or resented her, they had been together for three years. She had once seen Henry holding Grace in the lounge. There were only thirty minutes left before the annual shareholders' meeting, but Henry had pressed Grace against the bed, not even fully undressed, holding her slender wrist with one hand and her slim waist with the other.
She noticed Henry gazing intently at Grace's petite features, his focus unwavering. During the meeting, he appeared to be in high spirits.
Thinking of those moments, Celeste felt a pang of jealousy and softly reminded him, "Mr. Montague?"
Henry snapped back to reality, his gaze lingering on the space on the agreement for a few more seconds before he decisively signed his name.
After signing, he asked Celeste and Francis to leave. He stayed alone in the study for a long time.
In the evening, a servant knocked on the door. "Mr. Montague, dinner is ready. Will you come down to eat?"
Henry had lost his appetite. He changed into fresh clothes and stepped out, feeling so distraught that he let the driver take the wheel.
The driver turned and asked, "Mr. Montague, where to?"
Henry said calmly, "To the Montague Group Hospital."
He was going to the hospital to give Grace the divorce agreement. Once she signed it, they would no longer be husband and wife, and all their grievances would be wiped clean.
The driver noticed his bad mood and tried to talk as little as possible. Half an hour later, the car stopped in the hospital parking lot.
Henry went upstairs alone. The bodyguard saw him coming and greeted him softly, "Mr. Montague."
Henry nodded and took a few steps before pausing to ask, "Has anyone visited?"
The bodyguard initially shook his head, then a flicker of recollection crossed his face. "A cake shop delivered a cake, claiming it was for Mrs. Montague's birthday, sent by a friend."
Henry thought it was from Juniper. But when he reached the door of the ward and saw the cake through the white glass, he knew it wasn't from Juniper but from Lucas.
A small cake, very cute.
A deep blue starry sky, little yellow stars, a mini tent, and a little girl about six or seven years old, sitting inside the tent, hands clasped, making a wish.
Inside the ward, Grace sat on the sofa, looking at the small cake.
Her demeanor was remarkably youthful, her eyes twinkling as if they contained a myriad of tiny stars.
She looked very soft, much like she did when they were newlyweds. Back then, her eyes sparkled when she looked at him, too. But now, her softness was because of another man.
Henry remembered her words again; she said, "Henry, I don't like you anymore."
'So, has she fallen for Lucas?' Henry pondered, his expression darkening, eventually morphing into a sneer.
Suddenly, he found himself unwilling to let go of Grace so easily. Henry retrieved the document and ripped it in half, reducing it to a pile of discarded paper.
Grace was on the verge of cutting the cake when Henry pushed the door open and stepped into the room.
Seeing him, her small face looked slightly haggard, and she instinctively wanted to hide the cake. This was the only precious thing Grace had after being confined by him, a beautiful memory from her childhood.
Aware of the sender's identity, she refrained from expressing gratitude on social media or reaching out with a call. She accepted the gesture in quiet acknowledgment.
Grace looked up at Henry.
After a while, Henry walked over and sat beside her. His gaze fell on the cake and then moved to Grace's small face. His voice was unusually gentle. "Why didn't you tell me about your birthday in advance? The servant made a cake for you at noon, and I ate it! Let's share this cake now and celebrate your birthday together, okay?"
"Henry!" Grace knew him well. She looked up at him, her lips trembling slightly.
Henry smiled faintly.
He reached out and gently touched her red lips, his long fingers carrying a hint of flirtation. After he had touched enough, he softly murmured, "The cake Lucas sent should taste good!"
He then asked, "Do you like him?"
Grace closed her eyes lightly and denied, "No! Henry, I don't!"
Henry maintained a faint smile as he leaned in close to Grace's ear, his voice hoarse as he whispered, "Just curious, why are you so nervous? Mrs. Montague, I believe you wouldn't do anything to betray me. Otherwise, I really wouldn't know who to take it out on! I can't bear to hurt you, and if I hurt Lucas, you'd probably feel heartbroken!"
Grace was nearly in tears. "Henry, what do you really want?"
As soon as she finished speaking, he picked her up and placed her on the bed.
Grace wanted to resist, but he easily pulled off her hospital gown, binding her injured arm to prevent her from moving and hurting herself.
The dark sheets contrasted with her soft body.
Henry gazed at her intently in the soft glow of the light. He had always appreciated her form. His touch was gentle, not forceful, deliberate, and unhurried. His eyes lingered on her delicate features, as if he sought to memorize every contour of her skin.
In addition, he murmured lewd words in her ear that Grace found unbearable. "You first experienced it three months into our marriage. Your body was incredibly responsive even then. You should have witnessed yourself, so uninhibited!"
He wouldn't let anyone else see her like that! Especially not Lucas.
Grace was overwhelmed with shame and humiliation. His torment left her feeling exposed, her cheeks flushing with a woman's allure. Desperate to shield her emotions from Henry's view, she buried her face deep into the pillow, seeking refuge from his piercing gaze.
Henry looked down, his blue eyes fixed on Grace beneath him. There was no physical desire in his eyes.
He sneered softly, "Does it feel good, Mrs. Montague?"
Grace kept her eyes tightly closed, trying to avoid him, and said, "Henry, we shouldn't be doing this."
Henry sneered, "We shouldn't, but we did!"
He withdrew, watching Grace lying on the pillow, her red lips slightly parted, her voice husky and particularly sexy, "Henry, what's wrong?"
Henry zipped up his pants in front of her.
He leaned over and touched her small face, whispering in a low and cold voice, "Mrs. Montague, remember this feeling, remember the taste of wanting but not getting, and savor it well!"
It became evident that the preceding events were not about the dynamics of a relationship between a man and a woman, but rather Henry's method of punishment towards her.
All of it stemmed from that cake—simply because Lucas had sent it to her.
Henry continued to assert his dominance over her, just as he always had, overpowering her with his physical presence and observing as she succumbed to a pitiful state of longing.
Three years had passed, yet neither of them had changed in the slightest.
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