Her Divorce, His Downfall (Sophia and Damian) novel Chapter 136

Chapter 136

At the forefront of the group stood a tall, striking girl who was the mirror image of Sophia.

A piercing shriek tore from Sophia as she tumbled off the couch onto the floor.

Michael and Rhea went deathly pale, their eyes wide as saucers.

They stared as if seeing a ghost, lips trembling uselessly.

The resemblance was uncanny, terrifying.

Could it really be her?

But Sophia was supposed to have been burned to ashes in that fire!

Isabelle’s spine turned to ice before a sudden, desperate thought made her shriek, “No… no, you can’t be her!

“Sophia died in that fire! I saw her fall myself!

“The warehouse collapsed and buried her before the flames took everything! She’s dead! Who are you? What are you all doing in my house?”

OR?” Sophia stepped closer, crouching down to meet Isabelle97

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eye level with the casual curiosity of someone watching a stray animal.

A faint smile touched her lips. “How do you know the details so well? Could it be… you have a guilty conscience? Did you have something to do with your sister’s death?”

Isabelle stared up at that achingly familiar face, her breath catching in her throat.

The barrage of pointed questions sent a wave of pure dread crashing through her.

She stiffened like a cat with its tail stepped on, her voice shrill and defensive.

“I did not! Don’t you dare spread lies! That’s slander! Absolute slander!

“Just who do you think you are?”

Though the girl was Sophia’s double, Rhea wasn’t one to be easily cowed.

She didn’t believe in ghosts, karma, or cosmic payback.

She’d fought and schemed her way to where she was, snatching Michael from his first wife by any means necessary–sending provocative photos to push the fragile Elaine deeper into 13:07

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depression until it consumed her.

Later, she’d coached Isabelle to seduce Damian, and together they’d orchestrated Sophia’s demise.

And where was the so–called retribution? Nowhere. Karma was a fairy tale for the weak.

Rhea had gotten this far through calculation and ruthlessness. She feared no specters.

Her gaze turned icy as she glared at the intruder, disdain dripping from her words.

“Stop terrorizing my daughter with this cheap charade, or I’ll call the police and have you all arrested for trespassing.”

“Really?” Sophia arched a brow, her eyes glinting with cold amusement. “Go ahead. Call them. Let’s see who gets taken away in the end. But, Mrs. Anderson… I hope you won’t regret it.”

“Wait!” Michael’s voice cut through the tension, strained and shaky.

He was reeling, his mind struggling to process the girl who shared his late daughter’s face.

The Hall family had held a welcome party for Julian the

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previous night, but with Sophia’s recent “death” and Isabelle just out of the hospital, he’d been in no state for parties.

A gift had been sent, but he remained at home.

Michael had read the fire report and heard Isabelle’s story.

To him, survival seemed impossible–a miracle too distant to believe in.

His gaze then swept over the three men behind her, and his blood ran cold.

To her right stood Julian, Damian’s younger uncle, who had caused quite a stir at last night’s Hall family event.

Behind Julian were two other imposing, dignified young men –Jeffrey and Arthur Moore, the sons of his late wife Elaine’s brother, Logan Moore.

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