Her Divorce, His Downfall (Sophia and Damian) novel Chapter 143

Chapter 143

Arthur began, a mocking smile on his face as he stepped closer. “Rhea, it’s a sad story, truly heart–wrenching.”

His voice then turned icy, laced with contempt.

“But don’t pretend you’re some innocent victim. You knew Michael was a married man when you got involved. That was your choice. You have no one to blame but yourself.

“A cheating man is like a stray cat–always sniffing around for something new, never content to stay. Did you really think what he offered you was love? How naive.

“My aunt showed you mercy by not having you wiped out or ruined. And yet here you are, shamelessly spinning your pitiful little story.

“Tell me, if Michael had been a delivery driver, would you have looked twice? You were banking on climbing the social ladder, hoping to change your fate. You took the gamble, knowing the risks. It’s like any investment–you win some, you lose some. Understood?”

Arthur looked down at her, his eyes filled with disgust, his smile cold.

Moreover, the Anderson and Moore families are deeply 13:09

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intertwined. Even if Michael strayed for a thrill, he’d never risk their resources by divorcing my aunt.

“My family has built its fortune over generations, and

my aunt was the most cherished daughter of my grandfather. Even in death, she remains the love of Michael’s life, the one you could never measure up to!”

His words struck like physical blows. Rhea crumpled to the floor, defeated, the last flicker of defiance in her eyes snuffed out, replaced by utter humiliation.

Even when Michael moved to help her up, she remained limp, unresponsive.

“Well said!” Sophia clapped, giving Arthur an appreciative nod, her eyes shining with approval.

Her cousins were impressively sharp–tongued, capable of cutting someone down without raising a voice.

“Now, bring up that unsightly dog,” Jeffrey said, his tone light as he gestured with a finger.

A bodyguard promptly led forward Buck, the Doberman Isabelle had raised from a puppy, and handed the leash to Jeffrey.

“You…” Isabelle, who had just regained consciousness on the føer, saw Jeffrey holding her beloved dog.

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Paralyzing fear gave way to a desperate, reflex–like courage. “What are you going to do to my dog?”

Jeffrey ignored her, his gaze fixed on Sophia, awaiting her next command.

Hearing her daughter’s voice, Rhea seemed to jolt awake from her stupor.

She scrambled over to help Isabelle up, her face etched with worry that slowly melted into tearful relief.

“Isabelle! You’re awake! How do you feel? Are you hurt anywhere?”

The memory of her ordeal rushed back, making Isabelle tremble violently.

“Mom, it hurts… everything hurts. They nearly drowned me!” she sobbed.

“Let’s get you to the hospital for a proper check–up,” Michael said, his heart aching at the sight of his pampered daughter in such a state.

He moved to help her leave,

“Wait.” Sophia’s brow furrowed. Her voice, cold and clear,

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stopped them in their tracks.

A chilling smile touched her lips. “Isabelle, you enjoy killing other people’s cats, don’t you? Does it give you pleasure to see someone lose what they love most?”

Isabelle stared blankly, her waterlogged brain struggling to process the question.

“W–What are you talking about?”

“If you can’t recall, let me refresh your memory.” A flash of fury crossed Sophia’s eyes.

She turned to Julian. “Julian, a knife, please.”

Julian understood her intent immediately.

For a moment, he considered stopping her—this was dirty work he should handle.

But seeing the cold, unyielding hatred burning in her gaze, he held his tongue.

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