Sweet Flash Marriage with the Restrained Tycoon (Isabelle and Damien) novel Chapter 307

Chapter 307 Emotional Confrontation

“Talk?” This was the second time she had asked him today.

Damian truly did not want to talk. Talking meant an ending. He would rather kneel in the study, take another beating–anything but follow her upstairs for this “talk“.

He stayed silent, his head bowed, face shadowed.

Beside him, Theodore grabbed a fork from the table and flung it at his back.

Damian let out a low, pained grunt, stumbling forward a step.

Louis shot a glance at Theodore.

Old fox.

Thankfully it was just a fork–a heavier object would have reopened the barely–closed wounds.

The fork didn’t cause serious injury, but the scabs on his back, still fresh, threatened to split.

He clenched his jaw. That stifled sound gave him away to Isabelle, who stood watching.

Theodore had achieved his desired effect.

Isabelle ignored the display. She turned and walked back upstairs.

Louis gave him a sharp nudge with his foot. “Not going? Should I drag you up?”

Damian gritted his teeth and slowly followed her.

Back in the room, he gently closed the door. The atmosphere grew thick, almost stifling.

Isabelle sat on the sofa, her eyes fixed on Damian lingering by the door, unwilling to approach.

She wanted to speak, but swallowed the words. Clutching a cushion, her hands gripped it until the fabric wrinkled.

Damian steadied himself, then walked toward her.

He didn’t sit. Instead, he knelt before her, hands resting on his knees.

His head was bowed low, like a chastened child.

Isabelle looked at the crown of his head. His thick, slightly coarse hair carried the faint, familiar scent of his shampoo–everything felt intimately known, yet painfully distant.

“Damian…”

Isabelle spoke his name softly, but a thread of sorrow laced her voice–easy to miss if one wasn’t listening closely.

“Isabelle.” Damian cut her off quickly, fear tightening his chest.

He reached out, his hands trembling slightly as he took her cold, slender fingers.

sabette didn’t pull away. She let him hold her hands, silently repeating a mantra to herself–stay in control, stay in control…

She didn’t want a scene

“Damian…”

“Let’s not get a divorce.” Damiam lifted his gaze to look at the woman he loved.

He didn’t want to hear whatever Isabelle was preparing to say

“Let’s not get divorced.” He repeated it.

Suddenly, Isabelle couldn’t hold back any longer. The tears welling in her eyes overflowed.

She was supposed to reserve some love for herself. Instead, she had poured it all into this man–with little in return.

No, she had received something. A child.

“Do you really have to go through with this?” Damian couldn’t accept it. “I don’t want you to teave, Isabelle. Please don’t go…”

His eyes were bloodshot. He hadn’t slept properly in days. The physical and mental strain felt like it might crush him completely.

“It hurts too much. Right now, I can barely stand to look at you,” Isabelle said, finally yanking her hands free with force.

Damian stared at his now–empty hands. Helpless, his choked voice grew quieter.

“Anything but divorce. I’ll agree to whatever you want.”

“I’m tired. You should go now.”

She didn’t give him an answer.

Damian remained kneeling.

“Leave.” Isabelle’s tone was flat and final.

“Just promise me we won’t divor-”

“Slap!”

Isabelle finally snapped and struck him across the face!

That slap was for his betrayal–and for her own foolishness in misjudging him.

“You don’t get to set conditions with me!”

Somehow, after the impact, Damian swayed to the side. A low, strained groan escaped him, growing heavier as his hands clenched, into tight, white–knuckled fists.