Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love-Chapter 123: Unexpected Help

For all Harold’s wealth and influence, his personal relationships were fractured in ways money couldn’t fix. For the first time, Nick realized that Harold Braddock’s life wasn’t as charmed as it appeared. Beneath the polished exterior was a man fighting battles no one else could see—and losing.

Nick tried to say something. What could he even say?

Harold didn’t look at Nick. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he let out a shaky breath. The weight of the situation pressed down on him like a storm cloud, dark and unrelenting.

"We’re not waiting for my family to do something," he said, his voice low but firm, each word deliberate, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as Nick. "We’re handling this ourselves. Let’s get to their house first. We need to work together."

Nick nodded, though uncertainty rippled across his face. He wasn’t sure what Harold was planning, but the fire in his tone left no room for argument. Whatever was coming, Harold seemed prepared to torch every bridge—and maybe himself—to protect Jerica.

For Nick, the idea of working alongside Harold Braddock was surreal. Harold wasn’t the kind of man who leaned on others, and he certainly wasn’t someone Nick had expected to find as an ally. Yet here they were, their paths converging against a common enemy. Harold might not wield the same influence without his family’s support, but his resourcefulness and connections could prove invaluable.

Nick’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a meek but familiar voice behind them. "I have good news and bad news."

The voice was soft, but it sliced through the tension like a knife. Harold spun around sharply, his gaze locking on the speaker. "Catherine?" he said, his tone laced with equal parts relief and concern.

He strode toward her, his expression softening as he took in her disheveled appearance and the bandage wrapped around her head. Despite his obvious relief at seeing her, there was also a flicker of guilt in his eyes, as her injuries were his fault. "What are you doing here without getting rest?" he asked, his voice gentle but tinged with worry. "How’s your wound? What did the doctor say?"

Catherine didn’t respond to his questions. Her eyes, steady and determined, locked on Nick instead. "I have good news and bad news," she repeated, her tone firmer now. "What do you want first?"

Harold frowned, his concern giving way to frustration. "The good news?" he asked, though his voice carried an edge of impatience.

But Catherine ignored him completely, treating him as though he wasn’t even there.

It stung. Harold’s jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed.

"The bad news, please," Nick said, stepping forward. His voice was weary, heavy with the weight of the day’s events. It felt like he’d already endured a lifetime of stress in the past few hours.

Catherine didn’t hesitate. "Jerica Evans and her husband were kidnapped by masked men almost fifteen minutes ago," she said, her words landing like a thunderclap.

Harold and Nick froze, their faces draining of color as they processed the news. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching taut like a wire about to snap.

"Where?" Harold finally demanded, his voice sharp and urgent. "Do you know how the kidnappers looked? Which way did they go?" He fired off questions in rapid succession, his desperation bleeding through.

Catherine shook her head. "Unfortunately, I didn’t see where they went. I hid when I saw the commotion," she admitted, her tone regretful.

Harold let out a frustrated growl, running his hands through his hair again. Nick mirrored his frustration, both men sighing heavily as they tried to think of their next move.

"What’s the good news?" Nick asked suddenly, his voice tinged with a faint hope he wasn’t sure he should cling to.

Catherine cleared her throat, her eyes flicking between the two men. "I know who kidnapped them," she said, her tone calm but loaded with gravity.

Harold and Nick snapped their heads toward her, their gazes sharp with anticipation. "Who?" they demanded in unison, their voices echoing in the stillness of the moment.

For a split second, Catherine hesitated, as if weighing the impact of her next words. "Arthur Sutherland," she said finally.

The name hit like a bomb, detonating in the space between them. Harold staggered back a step, his breath hitching as the weight of it sank in. Nick’s mouth fell open, and his wide eyes darted to Harold, searching for some kind of explanation or reassurance that wasn’t there.

"Sutherland?" Harold repeated, his voice low and sharp, the single word laced with a dangerous edge. His normally steady demeanor was fraying, and the fury simmering beneath his calm exterior was palpable, threatening to boil over at any moment. "Are you sure?"

Catherine nodded solemnly, her expression grim. "Yes," she said, her voice steady but somber. "There’s no mistaking it. This was his doing."

Harold clenched his jaw, his mind racing. "I thought it would be the Glovers," he muttered under his breath, his words barely audible.

"Glovers?" Catherine raised an eyebrow, her gaze cutting through the tension like a scalpel.

Nick’s stomach twisted as he watched the exchange. Harold’s mention of the Glovers sent a ripple of unease through him. What was Harold thinking, naming them so freely? Could Catherine even be trusted? For all Nick knew, she was just a stalker—an outsider who had somehow inserted herself into this chaos. Her sudden appearance, her cryptic answers, and now her apparent knowledge of Sutherland made Nick’s instincts flare with suspicion.

"How are you so sure?" Nick asked, his voice edged with doubt. He studied Catherine closely, searching her expression for cracks.

"I just am," Catherine said, her tone resolute, though she offered no explanation.

Nick opened his mouth to press her further, his questions building like a storm in his chest. But then he caught her gaze. There was something in her eyes—an unflinching honesty that silenced his doubts, if only for a moment. Whatever else Catherine might be, she wasn’t lying.

Nick swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Why would Sutherland go after them?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What does he want with Jerica and Jared?"

Harold’s fists curled tightly at his sides, his knuckles turning white as the tension in the air thickened. "It doesn’t matter why," he growled, his voice like a low rumble of thunder. "What matters is that he has them, and we’re going to get them back. Whatever it takes."

Catherine tilted her head, her expression shifting to one of calculated curiosity. "Sutherland taking someone who’s against the Glovers?" she said, her voice laced with a hint of disbelief. "That’s... unusual."

Nick’s heart sank at her words, the pit in his stomach growing deeper. This was getting worse by the second. The pieces didn’t add up, and the implications were chilling. If Sutherland was involved, and the Glovers were somehow connected, then this wasn’t just about Jerica and Jared anymore. It was a tangled web of power and vendettas, and they were all caught in the middle.

The power struggle between the Glover siblings was an open secret. Arthur Sutherland kidnapping Jared and Jerica wouldn’t have been a coincidence. They probably were going to be used as lures or hostages in some grand plan.

This was not good.

The three of them stood there in the silence that followed, the enormity of the situation pressing down on them like a physical weight. Unspoken fears hung in the air, thick and suffocating. For Harold, there was no turning back now. This wasn’t just about saving Jerica.

This was war.