Her Divorce, His Downfall (Sophia and Damian) novel Chapter 162

Chapter 162 The Kiss That Started a War

Damian? He was still stuck in the hospital, wasn’t he?

She couldn’t even see him. How was she supposed to mess with him?

Sophia was thoroughly lost. Her bright eyes blinked with confusion. “How? Where is he?”

Julian looked at that adorably clueless expression and felt his heart go soft.

His heart softened, and then Damian’s near–psychotic obsession flashed through his mind. His expression shifted. He reached out and lightly pinched her chin, a mischievous glint in his eye, his tone deliberately provocative.

“What’s wrong? Already forgot what he put you through? Don’t you wanna make that scumbag ex–husband of yours suffer a little?”

The words “ex–husband” stabbed into Sophia’s heart like a poisoned needle, and the sting spread through her chest.

Every bitter memory, every humiliation she’d swallowed, came rushing back in a tidal wave. She looked up at Julian, her eyes:34

wavering with hesitation and a barely visible crack in her resolve.

It took her a long time before she heard her own voice, hoarse and unsteady. “Yeah. I do.”

Julian caught every flicker of conflict in her eyes. He knew she was cracking, and a quiet thrill of victory surged through him.

While she was still dazed and processing, he cupped the back of her head with gentle pressure and pulled her toward his chest. His voice was a low murmur. “Good girl. Play along with me.”

His voice was warm and impossibly seductive. Sophia didn’t even register what he’d said.

She tilted her head up, and her nose bumped against the smooth line of his jaw. Their breath tangled together in an instant.

The next second, a searing warmth covered her lips.

Her breath was stolen in a heartbeat. Sophia’s eyes widened in shock. All she could see were Julian’s trembling lashes, impossibly close.

It wasn’t like Damian’s rough, aggressive way of taking what he wanted. Julian’s kiss was like Julian himself–gentle and

refined.

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11:34

His kiss for Sophia was tender and lingering.

Julian pulled her onto his lap, his cool lips pressing against hers again and again, kissing her deeply and deliberately, swallowing every ounce of her surprise and shock between his lips.

The hand cupping the back of her head held her steady. His other arm wrapped tight around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, as if he wanted to meld her into his very bones.

Even as he kissed her, his gaze drifted to the shadow beneath the tree, dripping with provocation.

Sophia’s entire body went rigid, as if someone had frozen her in place. Her hand instinctively clutched at his collar.

She never would have imagined that Julian’s idea of messing with Damian meant this.

She hadn’t even spotted that jerk anywhere. But her brain had already short–circuited, and thinking was no longer an option.

She forgot to struggle. She forgot to hesitate. She even forgot to breathe. The only thing she registered was the sensation on her lips, growing sharper and more vivid with every passing second.

Everything else seemed to dissolve. All that remained was the crisp cedarwood scent on Julian and the tenderness that poured Bøen him.

11:34

Damian stood frozen beneath the tree. The moment he watched Julian lean in and kiss Sophia right in front of him, every drop of blood in his body turned to ice.

His bloodshot gaze locked onto the bench, onto those two intertwined figures clinging to each other.

He had sharp ears. Even from this distance, he’d caught every word. Julian’s “wanna mess with my nephew Damian” and “make your scumbag ex–husband suffer,” and Sophia’s quiet “yeah.”

Every single syllable was a blade dipped in poison, driving straight into his heart. The pain was so severe he had to grip the tree trunk to keep from collapsing.

His other hand clenched into a fist at his side. His nails dug into his palm, harder and harder, clawing at the flesh with a force he couldn’t control.

Soon enough, a sharp sting erupted across his palm. Blood beaded along his fingertips and dripped to the ground, one drop, then two, blooming into vivid red against the dark earth.

The blood kept coming, soaking his palm, carrying a piercing agony with it. But he didn’t even feel it. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the devastation tearing through his chest.

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11:34

His wife had just kissed his uncle right before his eyes. How was he supposed to live with that?

A desperate voice echoed inside him. He refused to believe that his wife had moved on, just like that. How could she? How could she do this to him?

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