Her Divorce, His Downfall (Sophia and Damian) novel Chapter 146

Chapter 146

Sophia stood a few paces away, her throat tight as she witnessed Michael’s raw, uncontrolled fury. It was something she had never seen before.

No matter their estrangement, he was still the man who had raised her.

However brief the warmth between them, she couldn’t forget those childhood moments: the way Michael would scoop her up after work, planting kisses on her cheeks.

He had loved her once, flying kites with her, riding carousel horses together.

A film of tears blurred her vision, but the memory of years of neglect and injustice quickly froze that softness in her eyes.

Tilting her head back slightly, she willed the gathering moisture away.

She no longer needed his belated remorse to heal her heart.

Watching her subtle shifts in expression, Julian felt a pang in his own chest.

He stepped closer, cupping her chin gently with one hand while using a handkerchief to wipe the smears of blood from her face!

“Don’t cry. You’ll turn into a little tear–streaked daisy. We can’t have our sweet flower all wilted, can we?” he murmured, his voice tender.

A faint, embarrassed smile touched her lips, the knot in her chest loosening just a little. “Okay.”

“Dad…” Isabelle trembled, utterly unnerved by Michael’s shattered composure.

In the past, no matter how badly she messed up, a few tears and excuses were enough. Michael might scold her, but he always quietly cleaned up the mess.

This version of him, wild–eyed and barely restrained, was entirely new, and real fear settled in her bones.

She understood why the Moore family had come to Anderson Manor first–their deal was the only thing standing between her and a prison cell.

Once convicted, her life would be over.

Dignity abandoned, she crawled forward, clutching at the fabric of Michael’s trousers.

“Dad, I know I was wrong, I swear I’ll never do it again! But you have to help me! Please, I can’t go to jail!”

Her pleas dissolved into frantic sobs as she began slapping her own face, hard and repeatedly.

“You just said the Anderson name was her safety net. Well, strip that name away, and what is she? Nothing! She has nothing!”

Catching her breath, Rhea squatted down, wrapping her arms around the still–sobbing Isabelle.

“If you hadn’t abandoned us first, would she be so desperate? She was watching that day, Michael–peeking through the door when you swore to Elaine you’d cut us off forever!

“You taught her the cruelest lesson: that anything worth having must be taken, because waiting for kindness only gets you discarded!

“So don’t you dare blame her now! If you’d raised her with an ounce of care, would we be here? This is on you! Y–You have to save our daughter!”

“Dad… I’m sorry… please…” Isabelle’s voice was a broken whisper as she slumped against her mother.

Every word, every tear felt like a poison–tipped needle piercing Michael’s scarred heart.

When he finally opened his eyes, they were bloodshot.

The sight of the two women–huddled, weeping, disheveled on the floor–churned his stomach with a deep, unfamiliar wave of revulsion.