Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love-Chapter 138: Confirmation

The next morning, Jerica didn’t even try to rise from the bed. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on her like an anchor, pulling her deeper into the comfort of the duvet. Despite the sun’s golden rays spilling through the windows, she simply rolled over, cocooning herself further into the soft folds.

Jared had brought her breakfast in bed, careful not to disturb her too much. The tray sat untouched on the nightstand as Jerica, bleary-eyed and pale, muttered something incoherent before burying her face in the pillow.

Jared tried to help her eat but she really couldn’t touch anything.

She felt like the entire world was spinning, the dizziness so consuming that even the thought of sitting up made her stomach churn violently. She knew the inevitable if she moved—she’d lose whatever was left in her stomach. Instead, she surrendered to the waves of fatigue and drifted back into an uneasy slumber.

Meanwhile, in the living room, the atmosphere was tense. Jared sat on the couch, his shoulders taut with restrained frustration. Across from him sat Arthur Sutherland, his demeanor composed but with an unmistakable air of gravity. The room was eerily quiet except for the faint ticking of the antique clock on the mantel.

Arthur leaned forward, his expression unreadable, and placed a slim file onto the coffee table between them. The soft thud of the folder hitting the polished wood seemed to echo louder than it should have.

"I bet this is not how you’d have wanted to hear this news," Arthur said evenly, his voice calm but edged with something unspoken. He paused, letting the tension build before delivering the punchline. "But... congratulations."

Jared’s eyes flickered between Arthur and the file, suspicion and confusion battling within him. His heartbeat quickened. Was this... the DNA results? The revelation about her biological father?

For a fleeting moment, Jared thought he understood. Perhaps the file confirmed Arthur’s connection to Jerica. Perhaps this was Arthur’s attempt at reconciliation, however warped. But the smirk on Arthur’s face gave him pause. Was it presumptuous for Arthur to assume this news would be well-received?

Or could it be about her illness? Did Arthur manage to find out a way to cure her? He hoped it was the latter.

Steeling himself, Jared reached for the envelope, his fingers brushing against its edge as if touching it might change everything. Slowly, he opened it and slid the papers out. His brown eyes scanned the first page quickly, widening slightly in recognition of the laboratory insignia.

The corners of his mouth curved upward briefly as he imagined he’d already pieced together the mystery. It’s about Jerica, he thought, almost relieved. But as his eyes darted over the details—reading further, deeper—the smile faltered.

His grip on the papers tightened. The room seemed to shrink around him as he turned to the final page. His hand began to tremble, the weight of what he was reading crashing down on him.

Jared’s breath hitched, and he looked up at Arthur, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is this..."

Arthur leaned back, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips as he nodded. "Yes."

The confirmation sent a shockwave through Jared. He clutched the papers to his chest, as if holding them close might somehow steady his racing heart. His vision blurred with tears that he didn’t try to hold back.

His gaze instinctively shifted toward the bedroom, where Jerica lay oblivious to what was unraveling in the living room. He let out a ragged breath, his emotions spilling over. Tears streamed freely down his face and let it pass.

-----

Harold Braddock sat stiffly in the armchair, his hands clasped tightly together, his fingers fiddling nervously. His cheek still stung from the slap his father, Noel, had delivered earlier. He kept his head down, staring at the polished floor, as if searching for answers in the sheen of the wood.

The heavy door creaked open, and Harold’s entire body tensed. His uncle, Joseph Braddock, strode into the room, his presence dominating the air like a storm about to break. Harold’s breath hitched, his muscles coiling in anticipation.

Slap!

The second blow landed on his other cheek, the sharp crack echoing in the suffocating silence of the room. Harold’s head snapped to the side, his skin burning from the force of the strike.

"You dared to end your engagement?" Joseph roared, his voice laced with fury and incredulity. He loomed over Harold, his finger jabbing toward him as if his very existence was an affront. "Even after I told you—I told you—that I need the Glover family’s support! How dare you defy me?"

Harold didn’t flinch. He didn’t react, even as Joseph’s spit flew in his face, even as his words pounded into him like hammer blows. He remained seated, his back straight, his face impassive, and his eyes darkened with a new kind of understanding.

Noel Braddock sat in his armchair, watching the scene unfold with the detached demeanor of a man who had long since stopped pretending to care. His face was devoid of emotion, his silence complicit as his brother berated Harold.

The old Harold would have burned with anger, his heart aching at the indifference of his father and the cruelty of his uncle. He would have shouted back or tried to defend himself, tears of frustration threatening to spill.

But this time was different.

This time, Harold listened. Not to the venom in Joseph’s voice or the injustice of his words, but to the core of what he was saying. He analyzed every word, peeling back the layers to reveal the truth beneath.

Power. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

That was all they cared about. Not love, not family, not even money in its simplest form. Connections, alliances, influence—that was their currency, their obsession. And Harold? He was just another pawn on their chessboard.

As Joseph’s tirade wound down, his breath coming in angry huffs, Harold finally raised his eyes. The calm in his gaze was unnerving, a stark contrast to his uncle’s fury.

"Uncle," Harold began, his voice steady, cutting through the lingering echoes of Joseph’s shouting. "You asked me to keep an eye on Jared. To report on what he was planning, what he was doing. I thought it was a reasonable request, even if it didn’t sit right with me."

Joseph’s face twisted in confusion and anger, but Harold didn’t stop.

"I had my doubts. I saw Jared—how he acted, how little he seemed to care about the Braddock family. I thought he was hiding something. But now... I see it clearly." He paused, scoffing bitterly. "Jared had already figured out what I couldn’t. He understood you better than I ever did. Maybe I was too close, too blind to see it for myself."

Joseph’s mouth opened, his face red with rage, but Harold didn’t give him the chance to interrupt.

"Power," Harold said sharply, his tone dripping with disdain. "That’s all you care about. Not family. Not loyalty. Just power. And I want no part of it."

He stood, his posture exuding a strength and defiance that had been buried for too long. His uncle took a step forward, his fists clenched, his lips curling into a snarl.

But Harold didn’t back down.

"I don’t want the Braddock family," he said, his voice ringing with finality. "I’m leaving."

Joseph’s fury exploded, words tumbling out in a barrage of insults and threats. Noel shifted slightly in his chair, his eyes narrowing, but he remained silent, his indifference like a stone wall.

Harold didn’t wait for permission, didn’t look back to see if anyone would stop him. He turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his head held high, the sting on his cheeks fading into the background.

For the first time, he felt free.