Chapter 292

Chapter 292
The next morning, I was awakened by my phone incessantly vibrating on the nightstand. Still groggy, I reached for it without opening my eyes, thinking it was the hospital calling. Instead, I found dozens of news alerts and social media notifications.

"What's going on?" I muttered, forcing my eyes open to scroll through the notifications.

When I saw the headlines, my heart skipped a beat: "Harding Heir and Ex-Wife Reconcile?" "Sophia and Henry: Love in the Rain."

I opened the first link and saw it—the photo of Henry and me from last night plastered across the front page of every major news outlet in New York. He was holding an umbrella, his arm wrapped protectively around me as I cried against his chest.

Unlike previous media coverage that portrayed us as bitter enemies, this time was surprisingly harmonious.

The comment sections were flooded with supportive messages:

"They look perfect together!" "I knew they'd work things out!" "This is what real love looks like, folks."

I stared at the photo, stunned. Who had taken it? How had it ended up online?

But as I looked more closely at Henry's expression—the genuine tenderness in his eyes as he gazed down at me—something shifted inside me.

After a moment's hesitation, I saved the image to my phone gallery.

Just as I was lost in thought, staring at the photo, my phone rang again. An unknown number. I hesitated before answering.

"Hello, this is Sophia."

"Darling, have you forgotten me so quickly?" a familiar voice purred.

My blood instantly froze. "Nadia?"

"The one and only," she replied, letting out a laugh that sent chills down my spine.

"How dare you call me after what you did?" I snapped. "Shouldn't you feel even a hint of remorse after drugging me?"

Nadia's laughter grew louder, more unhinged. "Ha! Remorse? Please. I won't be constrained by your moral standards, Sophia. I never feel remorse for anything I do."

"Besides," she continued smugly, "shouldn't you be thanking me? After all, my little drug helped you and Henry reconnect. I saw that lovely photo in the paper this morning."

Her shamelessness left me speechless. "Nadia, I'm busy. I don't have time for this nonsense. Goodbye."

"Wait!" Her voice sharpened. "Don't you want to know where your son is?"

My heart lurched painfully.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"You don't even know what's happened, do you?" she taunted.

I gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white.

"Go look for him," she said, her voice filled with malice. "When you can't find Billy, you know who to call!"

The line went dead.

Panic seized me. I frantically searched every room in the apartment, checking under beds, in closets, behind furniture—anywhere a child might hide or be hidden.

My movements grew increasingly frantic, my breathing ragged.

"Billy!" I called out, my voice breaking. "Billy, where are you?"

Betty emerged from her room, alarmed by the commotion. "Sophia, what on earth are you doing? What's wrong?"

"Billy!" I cried, barely able to form words through my panic. "My Billy! I can't find him!"

Betty grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. "Sophia, calm down. Think. Isn't Billy with the Harding family? Didn't Richard call and have Billy picked up? You told me about it yesterday."

I suddenly remembered—Richard had indeed called, saying William wanted to see Billy. I had personally watched my son climb into the Harding family car.

I slapped my forehead. "God, what's wrong with me? Of course!"

The sharp sting helped clear my mind. "I need to call Richard, make sure Billy's really there."

With trembling fingers, I dialed the Harding mansion. Richard answered on the second ring.

"Sophia, what a pleasant surprise," he said warmly.

"Is Billy there?" I asked directly, unable to waste time on pleasantries.

"Of course he is. He's right here playing with me. Would you like to speak with him?"

Hearing this news, I was so relieved I nearly collapsed.

A moment later, Billy's sweet voice came through the phone.

"Mommy! Grandpa Richard is teaching me chess! I'm almost winning!"

After hanging up, I collapsed onto the sofa, completely exhausted. One question kept circling in my mind: Why would Nadia call and lie about Billy being missing? What was she trying to accomplish?

Despite Richard's confirmation, anxiety continued to gnaw at me.

I needed to see my son with my own eyes.

"Betty, I'm going to the Harding estate," I announced, already grabbing my coat.

"Now? Are you sure that's necessary?" she asked, concerned.

"I won't be able to relax until I see him myself," I explained, heading for the door.

I stepped out of our building and walked to the curb, looking for a taxi. The street was surprisingly empty for this time of day.

Suddenly, figures emerged from the shadows—four of them, all wearing baseball caps and masks, their faces completely obscured. Before I could react, a sharp pain exploded at the back of my head.

Everything went black.

At Harding Investment headquarters, Henry was back at his desk after being discharged from the hospital. Despite it being Saturday, he'd come in for an important contract signing with a major client.

While waiting for the client to arrive, he kept checking his phone, hoping to receive a message from Sophia. By noon, when the screen remained stubbornly empty of notifications, his patience wore thin.

Henry: Thinking of you constantly. What should I do about that?

He sent the message with a satisfied smirk, then leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, waiting for Sophia's response. But even after the contract was signed and lunch hour had passed, his phone remained silent.

Annoyed, Henry called Sophia directly. The phone rang but went unanswered. He tried again. And again. Still nothing.

He dialed Betty's number.

"Isn't Sophia with you?" she asked, confused. "She left hours ago to see Billy at your family home."

Henry's brow furrowed deeply. He immediately called the mansion, only to learn Sophia hadn't arrived.

He realized: Something had happened to Sophia.

Within minutes, he and his security team were racing to Rose Garden Apartments. They combed through security footage, questioned neighbors, and searched the surrounding area until well past midnight.

Sophia had vanished without a trace.

In a private hospital room across town, Oliver lay in bed, furious about his recent stock market losses.

He had purchased large amounts of Harding stock, believing they would rise, but instead had lost at least five million dollars.

Before Catherine stabbed him, such a loss would have been negligible.

But times had changed, and this money was a major blow to Oliver.

Mia moved carefully around his room, trying not to provoke his anger.

As night fell, Oliver's eyelids grew heavy. He ordered Mia to help him prepare for bed.

She dutifully helped him lie down and tucked the blankets around him. Just as she was about to turn off the lights, the door suddenly burst open.

A team of men in black suits filed into the room, led by Henry, his expression ice-cold.

Oliver bolted upright in bed, sleep forgotten, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Henry," he said cautiously, "why are you here?"