Evil MC's NTR Harem

Henry flinched as if struck. "What do you mean you can't?" he asked, his tone tinged with disbelief. "You can. We can fix this together. I'm willing to forgive, Jade. All I need is for you to choose us over him. That's all."

Tears spilled freely down Jade's cheeks as she shook her head. "It's not that simple," she said, her voice trembling. "I've fallen... too deep. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't deserve you."

Henry's jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. "Don't give me that," he snapped, his emotions finally breaking through his calm exterior. "Don't act like this is out of your control. You chose this, Jade. You chose him. And now you're telling me you can't even try to make things right?"

Jade lifted her gaze to meet his, and the raw pain in her eyes nearly broke him. "I don't have the strength to fight it anymore, Henry," she admitted, her voice cracking. "I wish I did, but I don't. I've become someone I don't even recognize... someone I hate."

She took a shaky breath, struggling to steady herself. "If you want a divorce, I'll give it to you. I won't fight it. And if you want me to stay, but only in name, I'll do that too. I'll do whatever it takes to protect your reputation. You don't deserve to be dragged down by my mistakes."

Henry stared at her, his heart pounding in his chest. This was the woman he had loved for years, the woman he had built a life with, and yet she felt like a stranger.

"Jade," he said, his voice breaking, "what happened to us? To the vows we made? To the love we shared?"

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Her tears flowed harder, but she didn't look away. "I'm sorry," she said simply, the weight of her guilt etched into every word. "I'm so sorry, Henry."

With that, she rose from her chair, her movements slow and deliberate, as if the act of standing was almost too much to bear.

She lingered for a moment, as if she wanted to say something more, but then she turned and walked out of the room.

Henry sat motionless, listening to the soft creak of the stairs as she climbed to their bedroom. The sound of drawers opening and closing followed, along with the faint rustle of fabric.

Minutes passed, and then the front door opened and shut, the finality of the sound echoing in his ears.

He was alone.

For a long time, Henry didn't move. He sat staring at the spot where Jade had been, his mind a storm of emotions—anger, sorrow, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of loss.

He thought of the life they had shared, the memories they had created, and the future they had dreamed of together. Was all of it meaningless now?

Eventually, he rose from his chair, his movements slow and mechanical. He walked to the cabinet where he kept a bottle of his favorite old wine—a vintage he had been saving for a special occasion.

Tonight was no celebration, but he needed something to dull the pain that threatened to consume him.

He poured himself a glass and sank back into his chair, staring into the deep crimson liquid.

Memories of happier times flooded his mind—Jade's laughter, the warmth of her smile, the way she used to look at him as if he was her entire world.

What had gone wrong?

The night stretched on, the silence broken only by the occasional clink of the glass as Henry poured himself another drink.

By the time dawn began to creep through the curtains, the bottle was nearly empty, and Henry was lost in a haze of grief and regret.

Somewhere deep inside, he knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

Days passed, and Ryan Whitaker found himself driving to his parents' house. He had tried calling his father first, but the phone just rang and rang, unanswered.

Everyone was frantically searching for his father, but it was as if he had vanished without a trace. No one could find him, and even more unsettling, no one could get ahold of Henry Whitaker.

Finally, Ryan realized he had no choice but to search for his father himself.

His father's car was parked outside, yet something felt off. When Ryan opened the front door, a cold wave of shock washed over him.

The house was drenched in an eerie silence, with not a single light on. The once lively home felt suffocatingly still. He walked through the hallway, his footsteps echoing on the bare floorboards.

As he passed the kitchen, his eyes caught the mess—unwashed dishes piled high, the counters cluttered with empty cans and containers of instant food. Ryan couldn't believe what he was seeing.

This was not the home he knew.

His father was the strictest, most disciplined man Ryan had ever known—immaculate, organized, and fastidious about cleanliness.

The state of the kitchen was a stark contrast to the man who once demanded everything be in perfect order.

"What happened in here?" Ryan muttered, an uncomfortable sense of dread creeping over him. His instincts were screaming that something was wrong, but he forced himself to stay calm.

He climbed the stairs slowly, trying to steady his breath, and made his way to his parents' bedroom.

"Dad, are you here?" he called out softly, pushing the door open.

What he saw inside nearly shattered him.

His father sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over, a bottle of strong liquor in his hand. The man Ryan had always admired—strong, poised, dignified—was gone, replaced by someone unrecognizable.

His father's once sharp, handsome features were now obscured by days of unkempt facial hair, his clothes wrinkled and disheveled. The air around him felt heavy with despair.

"Dad? Are you okay?" Ryan called again, his voice faltering as he approached.

The man in front of him seemed to have lost all connection to the man he had known—his strength, his pride, his purpose—was gone.

The respected judge of Parkland City, a figure of authority and dignity, had been reduced to this hollow, broken shell of a man.

"Ryan... why are you here?" Henry's eyes finally lifted to meet his son's, his expression a mix of confusion and weariness.

He let out a hollow chuckle, raising his drink to his lips and taking another sip—only to cough violently as the alcohol went down the wrong way.

Ryan walked closer, his concern growing. "What happened? Where's Mom?" He could barely keep his voice steady as he examined his father's disheveled appearance. The man he once looked up to seemed like a stranger now.

"She's gone." Henry sighed heavily, his voice cracking under the weight of the words. He set the bottle down, as though the very act of drinking had lost its meaning.

After a long pause, he began to speak, his words tumbling out in a flood of painful truth.

For the next thirty minutes, father and son sat together, Henry opening his heart in a way Ryan had never witnessed before. When the story ended, the two were left in a long, painful silence.

"I see," Ryan murmured finally, his voice barely a whisper. "So he really made good on his promise." He let out a bitter, hollow laugh, the kind that felt empty and yet full of all the pain they shared in that moment.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

It was almost darkly comical that both father and son were left with nothing, their lives fractured in just less than a year.

Ryan stood up slowly, trying to shake the heaviness that hung in the air. "I'll be right back." He moved toward the liquor cabinet, knowing that tonight wasn't going to end any time soon.

It was going to be a long, sad night for both of them.