Her Divorce, His Downfall (Sophia and Damian) novel Chapter 62

Chapter 62

On the other end of the line, Mason gripped his phone with white knuckles, standing frozen for a long moment before finally releasing a heavy sigh.

In the parking garage, Damian crushed his cigarette into the ashtray and started the engine. The Rolls-Royce’s low rumble echoed briefly before disappearing into the night.

*****

Mercy Grace Hospital, VIP Top Floor

Sophia leaned against her hospital bed’s headboard, the phone’s glow casting pale light across her pale face. The explosive news report that had dominated headlines just hours ago had vanished without a trace, replaced by some celebrity’s scandal.

Her finger swiped across the screen. Every piece of content directly targeting Isabelle had been scrubbed clean with surgical precision, though the shift in public opinion was still detectable. At least the one-sided torrent of hate comments had temporarily died down.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips.

Of course. When it came to Isabelle, Damian would never stand By and do nothing. She just hadn’t expected him to move this4:16

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fast.

Isabelle had endured public criticism for what-two hours? And Damian had already swept it all away with ruthless efficiency.

And her? She’d been thrown to the wolves for days, enduring a vicious online mob that had even attracted a knife-wielding lunatic to her door. Yet Damian hadn’t felt an ounce of guilt.

The memory of his cold indifference sent coldness spreading through her eyes. Her heart felt frozen solid.

A commotion erupted outside her door-a woman’s shrill voice, dripping with entitlement. “Let me in! I need to see how my sister is doing!”

Isabelle.

The bodyguard’s voice remained firm. “I’m sorry, but the boss’s orders are clear. No visitors are to disturb her rest.”

“I’m her own sister! How am I a visitor?”

Isabelle’s voice pitched higher as she deliberately banged on the door. “Sophia! Are you okay? Please open the door!”

The argument grew louder with no signs of stopping. Sophia closed her eyes, swallowing the wave of disgust rising in her thugat. Finally, she threw back her covers and walked to the 4:16

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door.

Click. She pulled it open.

The hallway light illuminated the small crowd gathered outside. Isabelle stood with her arms crossed, wearing a smug, satisfied smile. The bodyguards’ eyes darted between the two Andersons, noting their similar features with knowing looks-they’d clearly seen the online rumors too.

To avoid any misunderstandings, Sophia stepped aside. “Come

in.”

The moment the door closed, Isabelle’s smile vanished, replaced by undisguised triumph.

“My dear sister,” she said, strolling to the center of the room with mock sweetness, “did you really think getting some recording would be enough to bring me down?

“Look how quickly things changed. One word from Damian, and that show was pulled. Every negative comment about me online -gone, just like that.”

She stepped closer, deliberately lowering her voice. “Want to know whose idea it was to release that video of you hitting someone? To turn the entire internet against you?”

Watching the color drain from Sophia’s face, Isabelle continued 6

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with satisfaction. “It was mine. I just casually mentioned it, and Damian agreed without a second thought.”

She laughed softly, twisting the knife deeper. “Sophia, what good did it do you to be born into wealth and privilege? You couldn’t keep your childhood sweetheart, and after three years of marriage, your husband’s heart was never yours.

“You’re just like your short-lived mother-destined never to find happiness. You’re cursed. You deserve every bit of this.”

Sophia stood motionless, her fingernails digging deep into her palms, though she felt no pain. Her beloved mother—the person she’d cherished most-had been insulted again and again.

She was certain now that her mother’s death years ago hadn’t been as simple as “illness.” She’d planned to investigate those old events, but recent chaos had disrupted her plans.

Someday, she vowed silently, I’ll make them pay double for every insult they’ve heaped on my mother.

After a moment of silence, Sophia took a deep breath, composed herself, and responded with unnaturally calm coldness. “Is that so? Instead of worrying about my happiness, maybe you should worry about yourself. We’ll see if the police come knocking on your door tomorrow.”

Isabelle’s expression froze instantly, her pupils contracting. 14:16

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