Her Divorce, His Downfall (Sophia and Damian) novel Chapter 166

Chapter 166 A Calculated Retreat

“Dad, my career and my marriage are two separate things.” Damian let out a low laugh, his voice lazy and unbothered.

He looked around at his so–called family, every single one of them wielding morality like a weapon, preaching under the guise of concern. All those supposedly well–meaning faces made his blood run cold.

Every last one of them was pressuring him to step aside and hand his wife over to Julian. At the end of the day, it was nothing but a performance. Everyone playing the role of caring relative.

They all wanted him to stop making a fuss, didn’t they?

Fine. Then he’d give them a real show.

The obsession and anguish in Damian’s eyes receded almost instantly, replaced by something bone–chillingly cold.

He raised his eyes slowly, swept the room, and spoke with naked defiance. “So every single one of you is against it? You all think Isabelle isn’t good enough for the Hall family? Not good enough for me? Is that it?”

Nobody said a word. 1/7

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Damian paused. His knuckles grazed the blood–soaked gauze

on his palm. Then his gaze flicked to Sophia, slid sideways to Julian’s thunderous face, and a cold, mocking laugh spilled from his lips.

“Alright then. Since you won’t let me marry Isabelle, how about you let my dear aunt marry me instead?”

He watched the room go slack–jawed and couldn’t hold back a low, unhinged laugh. The thrill of retribution flickered behind his eyes.

Fascinating. A single offhand remark was all it took to throw everyone into a tailspin.

He’d said it on purpose. It was a calculated retreat to advance.

This was only the first step in his plan. The real “surprises” were still coming.

And when they did, he was sure his beloved family would be absolutely delighted for him.

The room plunged into a deathly silence. People exchanged panicked, uneasy glances.

This was far harder to stomach than the engagement to Isabelle.

Sally, Bradley’s wife, went white as a sheet. Her eyes bew wide36

with shock, and her rebuke came out sharp and biting.

“Damian, have you completely lost it? She’s Julian’s fiancée! She’s your aunt!

“You have the nerve to suggest something that inappropriate? You want to throw the entire family hierarchy into chaos? Do the Hall family rules mean nothing to you?”

“Family rules? Ha.” Damian’s lips curled into a sneer. “Then go ahead and beat me to death again. I don’t care.”

“You…!”

Tonight was supposed to be a celebration. Eleanor’s most beloved grandson had barely survived and just come home from the hospital.

The whole family had been terrified for him during his stay. Eleanor herself had prayed at the church every single day, begging every deity she could think of to bring Damian back.

And now, barely through the door, he was daring them to beat him to death again. That one casual sentence turned her entire month of anguished worry into a cruel joke.

Eleanor trembled from head to toe. Her finger jabbed toward Damian, her chest heaving violently. Her eyes rolled back, and she looked seconds from passing out.

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Kevin rushed to her side, rubbing her back and soothing her in a gentle voice.

“Madam Hall, please, you mustn’t let this upset you. Your health comes first. Perhaps Damian has his reasons. Hear him out.”

Eleanor managed to catch her breath, but she was too furious to speak. She just shook her head in bitter silence.

Julian’s face was dark as a storm. The pressure rolling off him dropped like a hammer. His grip on Sophia’s hand unconsciously tightened, his eyes churning with rage.

He knew Damian was doing this deliberately, just like he’d deliberately kissed Sophia in front of him. Probing and provoking. Tit for tat.

An eye for an eye. That was the Hall family instinct, written into their blood. Every debt was collected with interest.

He lifted his gaze to Damian and hurled the words at him like a blade. “Damian, you’re out of line. Do I even exist in your eyes?”

Sophia’s hand ached from how hard he was gripping it. She could tell Julian was truly enraged this time,

Watching Damian square off against the entire family triggered a memory–the first time she’d whipped him.

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Back then, he’d shielded Isabelle the exact same way, willing to be condemned by every member of the family just to protect her, absorbing all the criticism and hostility.

A bitter mockery crept into Sophia’s chest, chased by a faint, sour ache. Once again, it was all for Isabelle. For Isabelle, he’d fight the entire clan.

He’d break the family code. He’d spit on his own uncle’s dignity. That was the power of being someone’s true love, their untouchable first love. Always the favorite.

She mocked herself silently. Back then, she’d been so blind. She’d actually believed the devotion Damian showed when he took a bullet for her was something special, something meant only for her. She’d been naive enough to think he married her because he loved her.

Now the truth was staring her in the face. She was his lawful wife, “killed” at the hands of his precious true love, and he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Instead, he was announcing his engagement to the very woman responsible, making a spectacle of it for the whole family to see.

A man’s capacity for cold–blooded cruelty was something carved straight into the bone.

The night they’d reunited, he’d knelt before her, begging her to

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forgive him, swearing he knew he was wrong. For a split second, she’d almost believed he’d grown a conscience.

And barely a month later, he was announcing his engagement to Isabelle. His so–called remorse was nothing but a joke.

Thank God she hadn’t believed him. Thank God she hadn’t gone soft.

Sophia lowered her gaze. Her fingers curled into tight fists as she buried the mockery and self–deprecation deep inside. Behind her eyes, a thick, seething hatred burned.

She told herself there would be another chance to catch him and Isabelle slipping up.

For now, all she had to do was stay steady and keep up the disguise.

Damian faced the room full of hostile stares and laughed harder, wilder. But beneath the bravado, his eyes held a calm that no one could see.

This was exactly the reaction he wanted. By making an even more outrageous demand, he was selling the image of a man so obsessed with Isabelle he’d lost all sense of propriety and restraint.

That was the cover. The misdirection. It kept everyone s

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attention on Isabelle and away from what really drove him— Sophia.

Once Isabelle was tied to him, the old guard would see he had a fiancée and stop connecting him to Sophia altogether.

Damian dialed the madness down a notch. His tone was still provocative, but now it carried a layer of disdain.

“I’m out of line? What exactly do I need to do to satisfy all of you? You won’t let me pick who I want. I pick someone else, and you still say no. So which is it?

“Either let me get engaged to Isabelle, or let my dear aunt marry me. Pick one. Ball’s in your court.”