Her Divorce, His Downfall (Sophia and Damian) novel Chapter 147

Chapter 147

Memories, sharp and unbidden, flooded Michael’s mind. Elaine, always meticulous, would lay out his clothes each morning.

Those late nights when Michael would stumble home drunk, she’d be waiting, no matter the hour, to help sober him up.

Afterward, he’d always pull her close, seeking warmth in her embrace.

For years, a single light in the window had been her silent promise, a beacon guiding him home.

Elaine had given up so much for him. Her beloved painting was set aside. She bore his child, managed their household, and navigated the complex social waters of high society with effortless grace.

Using her standing as a Moore, she brought him leads and insider information, their partnership in business as harmonious as it was in their private life,

Then came that single night, and everything shattered.

He could never forget the devastation in her eyes as Elaine pleaded that she’d been drugged and set up. They were bloodshot from crying and filled with a despair so profound it deemed to swallow her whole.

And what had Michael done? He’d hurled accusations, called her promiscuous and shameless, spat venom about her rekindling an old flame with Felix.

The recollection hit him now like a physical blow, his heart churning as if caught in a blender. Each breath came ragged, laced with pain.

Rhea was right, he thought with crushing clarity.

The real villain in this tragedy was him. Isabelle’s downfall was, in part, his doing.

In his own wounded fury, his retaliatory affair had set a chain of disasters in motion, hurting everyone he claimed to care about.

He had thought he was punishing Elaine, but all he’d succeeded in doing was torturing himself.

Two women, two daughters–all casualties of his choices.

Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, Michael struggled to contain the storm within, the effort making his jaw twitch.

When he finally spoke, his voice was devoid of all warmth, cold and brittle as winter air. “Isabelle, my failure to guide you properly is my own shame to bear.”

His gaze was fixed on the trembling figures of Rhea and his daughter on the floor.

“This is the last time.”

His words fell, deliberate and final.

“Once this is over, you should be married. You should leave New York—as far away as possible.

“Do not return. Not ever.

“This city… it has no place left for you.”

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