Her Divorce, His Downfall (Sophia and Damian) novel Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Garrett Fitzgerald didn’t hesitate. He swept Sophia into his arms and rushed toward the surgical wing.

Back in the hospital room, Damian watched their retreating figures, his dark eyes churning with questions and panic he couldn’t quiet.

He didn’t notice Isabelle beside him, her hands clenched into fists so tight her nails nearly broke the skin of her palms.

This morning, she’d faked stomach pain and called Damian over. Her plan had been simple: monopolize his attention while planting seeds of doubt about Sophia.

Instead, Damian had told her that Sophia had been found-in the same hospital, no less.

The revelation had hit her like a tsunami, threatening to drown her completely.

What made it unbearable was the way Damian’s voice had changed when he mentioned Sophia’s name-exhausted, irritated, and beneath it all, a tenderness he didn’t even seem

aware of.

The fresh cut on his lip told the whole story. Last night, they’d been intimate.

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Isabelle couldn’t understand it.

What was she missing? She had a great body, a beautiful face -maybe not as striking as Sophia, but she was gorgeous. Men should want her.

Yet Connor kept his distance, wouldn’t even touch her. And Damian gave her everything she wanted but never looked at her with actual desire.

Three years ago, at Connor’s birthday party, she’d schemed perfectly. She’d dyed her hair the same raven black as Sophia’s, slipped into Sophia’s favorite white dress, and when Connor was drunk and disoriented, she’d thrown herself at him.

The next morning, when Connor woke from his hangover to find her disheveled and red-eyed beside him, his expression of thunderstruck horror was burned into Isabelle’s memory

forever.

She’d sobbed that it was her first time, threatened suicide, demanded he take responsibility.

Connor had rubbed his throbbing temples for what felt like an eternity before finally nodding in heavy resignation.

From that day forward, she’d claimed the title of the future Mrs. Wilson.

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But beyond the engagement, Connor never crossed another line. Every year, he found new excuses to postpone their wedding.

His polite distance was more maddening than outright disgust would have been.

Damian’s devotion to her was legendary throughout New York City-always at her beck and call, granting her every wish. To outsiders, Isabelle lived a charmed life.

Only she knew the jealousy that festered beneath his “kindness.”

When they were together and she’d casually mention Sophia, he’d drift into childhood memories. He’d describe how he used to tease six-year-old Sophia just to get her attention, making her cry until she ran to his uncle for comfort.

And his uncle-that godlike, aloof man-would abandon his usual cold demeanor to scoop the little girl onto his lap, soothing her with gentle words, even teaching her calligraphy with his hands guiding hers.

He’d tell stories about Sophia’s time studying in France, how he’d deliberately stolen kisses that made her cry, leading to fights with her protective Connor…

In every story, his voice carried an unconscious tenderness, a lingering affection he didn’t even recognize.

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Those memories always starred Sophia.

Isabelle could only sit and listen, never daring to show her irritation.

But each story drove her closer to madness with jealousy.

Why? Why did Sophia get to be born into such privilege— protected by her prestigious maternal family, cherished by Connor since childhood, comforted by the legendary Julian Hall, and pursued by someone as powerful as Damian?

Meanwhile, Isabelle-no matter how hard she tried, how much she pleased others—could never escape the shame of being an illegitimate daughter.

She hated it. She refused to accept it.

That’s why she had to hold onto Damian with everything she had.

He was the city’s youngest, most powerful business leader, the crown prince of the Hall family empire. Only by climbing to his level could she finally crush Sophia beneath her feet and repay every humiliation tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, Isabelle buried her resentment and replaced it with vulnerability. She pressed a hand to her chest

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and swayed slightly.

“Damian…” Her voice came out weak and trembling, as if she were still in shock. “My heart-it’s racing so fast. I can barely breathe. I think… I think I’m having a panic attack. Could you take me to see a doctor? I’m so scared…”

Her tearful voice snapped Damian back to the present. He looked down to see Isabelle pale and clutching her chest, the picture of fragile distress-as if her earlier heroics had drained all her strength, leaving only fear behind.

Damian closed his eyes, suppressing the inexplicable irritation rising in his chest, and nodded reluctantly.

“Let’s go.” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, but his actions were decisive.

He took Isabelle’s arm and led her away from this place that left him so unsettled, heading toward the cardiology department.

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