Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 342: I like to stay hydrated

The car moved at its usual speed, smooth and unhurried, but the air inside it grew heavier with every passing second. It pressed down on the driver and Henry alike, making it hard to breathe normally.

The driver stole a brief glance at Henry through the rearview mirror, and Henry, pale and rigid in his seat, caught it. Neither of them said a word.

While the driver was still recovering from the unbearable sweetness of the couple he had witnessed earlier, Henry was fighting an entirely different battle.

He focused on breathing, slow and steady, as if that alone could keep him from passing out. His fingers curled tightly in his lap, knuckles white.

Neither of them realized when it happened, but somewhere along the way they both began silently cursing their respective jobs.

The driver prayed he would never again be forced to sit through such intense displays of affection. Henry, on the other hand, was begging the heavens to spare him from whatever awaited him at the end of this ride.

The twenty minute drive felt less like a commute and more like a death sentence. Every red light dragged on too long. Every turn felt ominous. The silence between them grew so thick it was almost audible.

Finally, the car came to a stop in front of the building.

The driver exhaled deeply, as if he had been holding his breath the entire way. He turned to Henry, eyes filled with sympathy, and lifted his hand in a solemn gesture before silently mouthing a prayer.

"God bless you, my child."

Henry swallowed hard, stepped out of the car, and wondered for the briefest moment if he would survive the day ahead.

Henry stood there for a second after the car pulled away, watching it disappear down the road as if it had just escaped a battlefield. He let out a long breath and straightened his jacket, forcing his shoulders back.

"Pull yourself together," he muttered to himself.

The building loomed in front of him, tall and unforgiving. Each step toward the entrance felt heavier than the last. By the time he reached the doors, his composure was back in place, his expression calm and professional, even if his insides were still in knots.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted immediately. The familiar hum of voices, the polished floors, the quiet efficiency of staff moving about did nothing to ease his nerves. If anything, it sharpened them.

"Good morning, Mr. Henry," the receptionist greeted politely.

"Morning," he replied with a tight smile, already walking past.

The elevator ride up was painfully slow. Henry stared at his reflection in the mirrored walls, adjusting his tie twice for no reason at all. The doors finally opened, and he stepped out, bracing himself.

He barely made it two steps before a voice stopped him.

"Henry."

He turned.

Daniel stood there, composed as ever, suit immaculate, expression unreadable. Only his eyes gave him away, sharp and knowing.

Henry swallowed. "Sir."

"My wife is acting strange," Daniel announced suddenly.

The words drained whatever little color Henry still had left in his face. If the ground beneath his feet could split open at that very moment, he would have gladly let it swallow him whole.

Daniel, completely unaware of the silent suffering beside him, leaned back in his chair. His thoughts drifted to the morning. To Anna stubbornly refusing to get out of bed, pretending to be asleep even when he knew she was wide awake. The memory gnawed at him.

That was strange, he had thought then. I did not do anything to upset her.

He frowned, eyes narrowing slightly as he turned back to Henry. "Did you tell her what Fiona tried to do with me?"

Henry stiffened. "I... no, sir."

Daniel exhaled slowly. He had never told Anna the real reason behind the incident, never explained how he had been drugged or how close things had come to spiraling out of control. At the time, he had thought it best to spare her the worry.

Now, watching Henry turn even paler, the corner of Daniel’s lips twitched with something close to amusement.

"How did I forget," he muttered. "She has spies around me."

Henry’s throat went dry.

Daniel’s gaze flicked to him, sharp and deliberate. "Well," he added coolly, "my own assistant included."

Henry swallowed hard. "Sir, I assure you—"

Daniel raised a hand, stopping him. His expression softened just a fraction, though his eyes still gleamed with awareness. "Relax. If she wanted answers, she would not be this subtle."

He leaned forward, fingers steepled. "Still, something is bothering her. And I do not like not knowing what it is."

While Daniel was still lost in thought, trying to piece together what exactly had upset his wife, something else finally registered. Henry was far too quiet.

Daniel looked up.

Henry stood stiffly in front of him, hands clasped together, forcing a smile that did nothing to hide the truth. His eyes were glossy, his expression stretched thin, as if he was one wrong question away from breaking down completely.

Daniel narrowed his eyes. "You look like my words are not bothering you at all," he said slowly. "Which is impressive, considering you look ready to cry."

Henry opened his mouth to respond, but before a single sound escaped, Daniel’s phone buzzed on the desk.

The interruption made Daniel pause. He picked up the phone, glancing at the screen out of habit. The moment he read the message, his brows furrowed sharply.

Florest123: I am here. Where are you?

Daniel’s jaw tightened.

The fake account. Fiona.

His gaze snapped back to Henry, his voice rising a notch. "Henry," he said sharply, "were you meeting Fiona today?"

Henry’s forced smile finally cracked.

For a split second, he tried to answer. Tried being the key word.

Instead, his legs gave up on him.

"Sir, I—" he began, before his knees buckled like they had personally resigned from their duties.

Henry grabbed the edge of the desk just in time, half collapsing, half bowing in a way that looked painfully close to worship.

Daniel shot up from his chair. "Henry?"

"I am fine," Henry blurted out, clearly not fine at all. "Just... gravity is stronger today."

Daniel stared at him, unimpressed. "You are sweating."

"Yes," Henry nodded rapidly. "I like to stay hydrated."

"That is not sweat," Daniel said flatly. "That is fear."

Henry’s legs trembled again, and this time he did not even try to hide it. He slid down into the chair opposite Daniel with a defeated sigh, covering his face with both hands.

"Sir," he muttered, his voice muffled, "if you fire me, please do it quickly."

Daniel blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then he slowly sat back down, his earlier irritation replaced by sharp curiosity. "Alright," he said calmly, folding his arms. "Now I know something is very wrong."

Henry peeked through his fingers. "You think?"

"You do not usually collapse unless I mention your appraisal," Daniel replied dryly. "And even then, you last longer than this."

Henry let out a weak, humorless laugh, the sound barely leaving his throat. But the moment his eyes met Daniel’s, whatever was left of his courage evaporated.

There was frost in Daniel’s gaze. Cold. Sharp. Dangerous.

Henry’s soul promptly left his body.

"So," Daniel said quietly, his voice calm in a way that sent chills down Henry’s spine, "tell me what it is."

That was it.

Henry stared at him, frozen, as his entire life flashed before his eyes.

***

Meanwhile, Fiona had already reached the location and taken a seat near the corner, where she could observe everyone who walked in. She checked her phone once again, the screen stubbornly empty.

She had asked DarkKnight to send her his photo so she could recognize him the moment he arrived. He had refused, casually assuring her that he would recognize her instead. At the time, she had not questioned it.

Now, the flaw in that logic slowly dawned on her.

They did not actually know each other.

She had spoken to him using the name Florest123, carefully hiding her real identity. And as far as she knew, he had done the same. But Fiona brushed the thought aside. It did not matter. She had never intended to keep up the charade for long anyway.

Once he arrived, she planned to reveal herself, presenting the story she had rehearsed so many times. She would pose as Anna’s concerned friend. A well wisher. Someone who simply could not stand by and watch an innocent woman be deceived by her husband.

Time passed.

The waiter walked by twice. The door opened and closed more times than she cared to count. Each time, Fiona lifted her gaze, only to lower it again when the stranger turned out to be someone else.

Her fingers tightened around her phone.

No message. No call.

"Did he change his mind?" she muttered under her breath, irritation creeping in.

She refreshed the chat once more, lips pressing into a thin line. DarkKnight had never kept her waiting before. Not like this. A flicker of unease stirred in her chest, but she quickly buried it beneath confidence.

’He would come. He has to come’ she assured herself, not getting swayed until.

"Fiona what are you doing here?"