Her Divorce, His Downfall (Sophia and Damian) novel Chapter 120

Chapter 120

Three years he’d carried this burden, his heart torn apart by endless agony.

The shame gnawed at him, especially in Sophia’s presence–he’d felt unworthy, small, like he didn’t deserve to stand

beside her.

Now that Sophia was gone, he could no longer hold back his rage.

Isabelle had always been reckless, hurting Sophia time and time again.

He’d been lenient enough not to settle the score with her, yet Damian had the nerve

to call him heartless?

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“Damien !!

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Connor chuckled bitterly, his anger boiling over as he dipped a cotton swab in alcohol and pressed it firmly against Damian’s wound.

“Keep Isabelle in line, or you’ll regret it sooner than you think.”

Damian let out a muffled groan, his veins bulging on the back of his hand. “Connor

Wilson!”

“Standard procedure, Connor replied coolly, ignoring Damian’s cries as he worked professionally to stop the bleeding and disinfect the wound.

Damian clenched his fists so tight his

knuckles turned white.

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If it weren’t for the medical project collaboration between their families, he would’ve taught Connor a lesson long ago.

He’d never liked Connor–not since France, when Connor had repeatedly provoked him, relying on Sophia’s affection.

Then, three years ago, on his birthday, he’d seen Isabelle dress up as Sophia to

seduce Connor.

He’d played along, staying by Sophia’s side, getting drunk with her, sleeping with her, and later taking a bullet for her in Europe.

He’d risked his life to marry her, only to

bose her in the end.

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The thought sent a tidal wave of remorse crashing over him.

His heart felt like it was being torn apart, every breath sharp with pain.

“Damian, hang in there,” Weston said, pressing down on Damian’s arm and shaking his head, urging him to stay calm.

In no time, Connor finished treating the wound with quick, skilled hands- applying ointment and wrapping it in

gauze.

“Change the dressing every three days, keep the wound dry, and avoid spicy food and alcohol.”

He instructed Damian in a businesslike 2:38

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nurse.

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Shortly after Connor left, Lucas walked in, pushing Isabelle in a wheelchair while holding an IV stand.

Isabelle’s expression was full of

complexity at the sight of the gauze on Damian’s forehead.

Lucas scratched his head awkwardly.

“Sorry, Damian. As soon as Isabelle woke up from surgery, she insisted on coming to see you, so I—”

“It’s fine.” Damian waved him off, cutting him off tiredly. “I know you can’t control

her.”

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hardening with anger, his voice cold as

frost.

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“Don’t pull your reckless stunts on me. I only saved you tonight because Aaron once saved my life.”

He paused, his gaze turning even colder, his tone menacing.

“Remember this—your life is mine. I haven’t let you die, so you can’t kill yourself even if you want to.

“Tonight’s incident is over, but I won’t

tolerate it a second time.”

Isabelle paled, her newly set ribs aching as if they’d broken again–Damian had

seen right through her.

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She began to tremble, her eyes turning teary–eyed as tears streamed down her

face.

“Damian, you never used to talk to me so loudly,” she sobbed, her voice breaking.

“You were so kind, so forgiving, saving me time and time again.

“Don’t you have even a little affection for

me?”

Damian denied without hesitation, his voice firm and unwavering. “No. I was kind to you only because of Aaron and your sister. I’ve always seen you as a little sister–don’t get the wrong idea.”

“But my sister’s dead,” Isabelle screamed,8

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