Her Divorce, His Downfall (Sophia and Damian) novel Chapter 133

Chapter 133

Her expression held no trace of the softness he so desperately sought. It was the same cold, impassive mask she had worn countless times before, whenever he had sided with Isabelle against her.

Leaning in close, her voice dropped to a whisper meant for his ears alone, each word sharp and brittle as ice.

“Damian, remorse that comes too late is worthless. I don’t need your apologies. You will atone.

“For the first three years of our marriage, you were so good to me. I was foolish enough to believe it meant something, that you actually loved me.

“Everything changed after my mother’s memorial, From that day on, it was always Isabelle. You chose her, over and over, no matter the cost to me.

“Do you have any idea what it felt like? Trapped in that inferno, watching you carry her to safety while you left me behind?

“The agony, the despair… I wanted to tear you both apart. I hated you with every fiber of my being.”

She closed her eyes briefly, a wave of old pain passing over her features. When she opened them again, they were clear,

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resolved, and utterly calm.

“You destroyed our marriage. You killed the woman who loved

you.

“I clawed my way back from death itself. Did you really think I’d walk back into that hell? This? This is just interest on a debt. You’re getting off easy.

“Don’t you dare die. You will live. You will wake up every single day and remember. You will drown in this regret until it’s the only thing you can taste.

“I don’t regret loving you once. We had our moments. But now?

“There’s a life between us. And I will never forgive you. Let go.”

The words fell like a judge’s gavel, each one a precise, brutal

strike.

They shattered whatever fragile hope remained in him.

“No!” The denial was a raw, guttural sound,

Damian’s head whipped from side to side, his entire body trembling. “Please, no… don’t…”

Blood and tears streaked his face, the combination lending his battered features a tragically haunting beauty.

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He looked up at her, his eyes wide with a desperate, pleading hope, like a condemned man awaiting a last–minute pardon.

Sophia didn’t waver. With deliberate calm, she pried his blood–slicked fingers from the hem of her skirt.

Rising to her feet, she turned towards Julian, ready to leave.

“Sophia! Don’t go… please…”

His cry was a torn, frantic thing, shredding the tense silence.

Lurching forward in a burst of agonized motion, his torn back protesting violently, he made a last, desperate grab for her leg.

Without hesitation, she took a swift, decisive step away, her

movement clean and final.

His hand closed on empty air, hanging there for a moment before his fingers clenched into a white–knuckled fist.

Damian’s jaw clenched tight. He pressed his lips into a thin, bloodless line, swallowing back a groan of agony. Slowly, painfully, his fist unfurled, the tension draining from his fingers.

Her accusations played on a loop in his mind, each one a fresh, twisting blade.

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He could almost feel the blood draining from him, pooling in a grotesque pattern on the floor.

“Damian, stop this.”

Catherine rushed to his side, her own tears falling freely as she grasped his hand.

Her voice was thick with a mother’s heartache.

“That woman is Ms. Fitzgerald. She’s made herself perfectly clear. You had Sophia when she was yours, and you let her go. Some chances don’t come twice, my boy. Once they’re gone, they’re gone for good.”

Bella, despite her long–held resentment on Sophia’s behalf, felt her heart constrict at the sight of her brother’s utter ruin.

Applying pressure to the worst of the wounds on his back, she begged, “Damian, please, just stop. We need to get you to a hospital, now!”

Their words were static. Damian’s world had narrowed to the retreating figure of the woman walking away with another man.

A primal, overwhelming terror seized him–the fear of her vanishing from his life once more, this time forever.

Sophia! Come back!”

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