Her Divorce, His Downfall (Sophia and Damian) novel Chapter 39

Chapter 39

The night was pitch-black. The backyard sat silent, like the air itself had frozen solid.

Connor scanned the area, alert. Seeing nothing suspicious, he nodded at his bodyguard.

The bodyguard pulled out his tools and got to work.

Click. The door opened.

They slipped inside quietly, with Dorothy leading them to the confinement room.

The bodyguard expertly picked the lock.

Another soft click, and the door to the confinement room

swung open.

As the door opened, a wave of musty, metallic air hit them.

The sight before them was almost suffocating.

Sophia was curled up against the wall, her facele as8:55

death Blood had crusted at the corners of her mouth

< Chapter 39

-a cat.

Both Dorothy and Connor recognized it immediately.

Snowball, the pet Elaine had given Sophia when she was

little.

Connor’s heart clenched. He quickly stepped forward and handed Snowball to Dorothy.

When he reached out to lift Sophia, he could feel scorching heat radiating through her thin clothes.

She was burning up with fever!

“Sophia!” Connor called her name, his voice thick with

pain.

But she didn’t respond at all.

He quickly shrugged off his suit jacket, carefully wrapped it around her body, and scooped her up in his arms.

She felt light as a feather in his embrace, but her body’s heat seemed to burn through his skin-and straight into his heart.

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The group slipped out silently and piled into the car Connor had waiting.

The engine roared to life. The black Bentley shot forward like an arrow, racing toward Mercy Grace Hospital.

****** 冬冬

The VIP examination room was blazing with light.

Connor had the nurse give Sophia fever reducers and emergency fluids.

Only when the numbers on the monitor dropped did his rigid tension ease-slightly.

He reviewed every test result himself.

Thank God-no broken bones, no internal damage. But it wasn’t good:

Severe dehydration. Electrolyte imbalance. High fever. Bruises blooming across her arms and legs.

The cuts on her face from broken glass-two days untreated, already festering.

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The gash on her forehead from last time hadn’t even fully healed.

And now there were new wounds…

Connor’s eyes landed on the red marks still visible on her neck. His knuckles went white gripping the test results.

After a long moment, he took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

He dipped a cotton swab in ointment and began-gentle, meticulous-treating every wound on her face, arms, legs.

Dorothy stood nearby, tears streaming down her face.

What did Ms. Sophia Anderson ever do to deserve this? Mr. Michael Anderson, Mr. Hall… treating her like this.

“If Mrs. Elaine Anderson were still alive, she’d never let her daughter suffer like this.”

Then Connor adjusted the IV drip himself, watching Sophia’s breathing slow and steady. Her brow was still furrowed.

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He turned to Dorothy. His voice dropped low. heavy.

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you were worried sick. Say you convinced one of the old Anderson servants to sneak you in. That you got her out and brought her to the hospital. Don’t mention my name. Ever.”

Dorothy froze. Then understanding dawned.

Sophia was Damian’s wife. Connor was her sister’s fiancé.

If anyone connected the dots… it’d become gossip. Twisted into something ugly. Another weapon aimed at Sophia.

“I understand, Mr. Wilson.” Dorothy nodded firmly. “I’ll remember this kindness on Ms. Sophia Anderson’s

behalf.”

Connor waved his hand wearily, eyes still fixed on that pale, exhausted face in the hospital bed.

“The top-floor VIP suite’s ready. Completely private and quiet.

. “I’ve already told the hospital to lock down all

information. Only you and the assigned medical staff

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have access. No visitors, no interruptions. Take care of:55 her here. Ring the bell if you need anything.”

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“Mr. Wilson, please take care of yourself too. You need rest.” Dorothy looked at him gratefully.

Dorothy still fussed over him like she had back in France -like he was family.

Connor’s lips curved slightly, something easing in his chest.

“I will. Thanks, Dorothy.”

After a few more instructions, he left the room.

Dorothy pulled up a chair and took Sophia’s cold hand in hers, emotions swirling.

Tonight, she’d finally gotten Sophia out. She hadn’t failed Elaine’s dying wish.

The room fell quiet except for the beeping monitors and Sophia’s incoherent murmurs.

Dorothy touched her forehead-the fever had broken.

. Relief flooded through her. She rested her head on the

bed and drifted off beside Sophia.

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******

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+2 Bullet

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Damian stayed at the hospital with Isabelle for two days and nights.

It wasn’t until the nurse came to change her dressing for the third time tonight that something finally clicked-like a delayed needle prick.

Sophia was still locked in the confinement room. He’d ordered them not to let her out without his say-so.

He frowned and pulled out his phone, dialing her

number.

After what felt like an eternity of ringing, it went to

voicemail.

“This shit again.” He cursed under his breath, irritation flashing across his face. “Always either turned off

or ignoring me. Sophia, do you even see me as your husband?”

Shoving down the anger rising in his chest, Damian called Michael instead.

After some brief pleasantries, Michael dropped a

bombshell.

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A chill shot through him, mixed with fury. Without another word, he bolted from the hospital.

He drove like hell back to the Anderson Manor.

In the main hall, Michael and Rhea sat stiffly, faces tense.

Frank stood with his head bowed, cold sweat beading at his temples.

Under Damian’s sharp interrogation, he kept stammering, “I don’t know… didn’t see… no idea…”

Useless. Completely useless.

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