Become the Richest Woman After Divorce ( Stacy And Sophia ) novel Chapter 47

Summary for Chapter 47: Become the Richest Woman After Divorce ( Stacy And Sophia )

Chapter Summary: Chapter 47 – Become the Richest Woman After Divorce ( Stacy And Sophia ) by Internet

In Chapter 47, a key moment in the Internet novel Become the Richest Woman After Divorce ( Stacy And Sophia ), Internet delivers powerful storytelling, emotional shifts, and critical plot development. This chapter deepens the reader’s connection to the characters and sets the stage for upcoming revelations.

Chapter 47: Shouldn’t There Be Hatred? 

Pierce gave him a cold, indifferent glance, his tone devoid of warmth: 

“Sophia’s baby was lost due to Emelia’s hit, shouldn’t she hate?” 

In one sentence, Nolan was completely dumbfounded. 

He stood there stiffly, as if struck by a thunderbolt: 

“How could it be…” 

He had never heard Emelia mention it. 

Pierce averted his gaze, his throat hitched slightly, his tone chilling a few degrees: 

“I still stand by what I said, mind your own business less.” 

He stood up, adjusting his suit buttons, his eyes and brows indifferent to the extreme, and added a sentence: 

Also, be nicer to Sophia in the future, or don’t blame me for turning against you. 

His tone was restrained and distant. Ever since Nolan was rude to Sophia at the bar last time, he had deliberately started to distance himself from Nolan. 

Nolan sat there, stunned, watching Pierce leave. 

He had never shown such a professional attitude before, and Nolan noticed it, feeling somewhat flustered inside. 

*** 

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Chapter 47: Shouldn’t There Be Hatred? 

In the evening. 

The sun set in the west. 

Sandra dragged Sophia out for a drink, the bar was noisy and bustling. 

In the relatively secluded booth, Sophia’s mood had greatly improved after a few drinks. 

Seemed to have thrown everything behind the mind. 

She was wearing a seductive long dress, revealing her fair and lustrous shoulders, accentuating her slender waist, so dazzling that one couldn’t take their eyes off her. 

Sandra went to dance on the dance floor, while Sophia was drinking one glass of alcohol after another. 

She absentmindedly swirled the liquid in her wine glass, her gaze somewhat distant. 

She was deliberately indulging in her fatigue and stress. 

Suddenly, someone sat down beside her. She turned her head slowly, blinked, and in her moist eyes, there was a hint of clear confusion. 

“Mr. Woodward.” 

Derick’s face was stern and handsome, there was no one in the entire bar who looked better than him. 

He chuckled, looking at her with great interest: 

“Call me Derick, Sophia.” 

“Derick.” 

Sophia, having drunk too much, had little judgment, her mouth 

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moving faster than her brain. 

Derick looked at her, raised an eyebrow, and reached out to pull her 

up: 

“Shall we go for a dance?” 

Before Sophia could react, she was already pulled into the middle of the dance floor. 

A new song began, suitable for tango. 

With one hand, he gently encircled her waist, which was small enough to be held in one hand. Subconsciously, she began to dance to the music. 

Just this once, she wanted to dance her heart out, forgetting all the unhappiness. 

Derick excitedly kept up with her pace. 

Sophia had a slender, swan–like neck, graceful and delicate. When she drank too much, she was like a little sprite, her features vivid and refined. Her movements were soft and light. 

As the melody changed, she twirled around with the lightest of steps, her skirt flaring and fluttering with her movements, as if a glow was enveloping the two of them. 

The man was so handsome and dashing, the woman soft and delicate, radiant and exquisite. They unconsciously attracted the attention of others. 

This scene was stunningly beautiful. 

For a moment, everyone around stopped to admire their graceful dance. 

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She felt as if she had returned to her carefree self from three years ago. 

Back then, I was joyfully exuberant, I hadn’t lost anything! 

Very quickly. 

The song ended. 

Sophia stopped in her tracks, drunk, she felt dizzy for a moment, her legs gave way, and she fell into Derick’s arms. 

Derick caught her, gave a helpless laugh, and led her to the booth. 

Sophia’s eyes were hazy, feeling only fatigue. Her rosy lips glistened, she was thirsty. 

Derick gazed deeply into her eyes, gently brushing away the stray hair by her ear with a tender motion, and softly asked in her ear: 

“Sophia, were you very upset?” 

She let herself drown her sorrows in alcohol, even unaware of rejecting his invitation. 

He could feel that she was very upset inside. 

Suddenly, he felt a bit sorry for this Sophia. 

Sophia wanted to push Derick away, not wanting to be so close to him, but she couldn’t muster the strength in her hands, only managing to grumble in dissatisfaction. 

The surrounding noise was loud and raucous, Derick didn’t hear what she said, so he leaned forward, closer to her ear. 

“What did you say?” 

The next second. 

Chapter 47: Shouldn’t There Be Hatred? 

Sophia bit his car fiercely, like a little rabbit angrily gnawing in frustration. 

Derick stiffened slightly, just feeling the pain, when Sophia let go. 

Her eyes were misty and flickering slightly, she muttered in an angry 

tone: 

“Damn it, Pierce, bite you to death!” 

Derick paused, a hint of complexity flashing in his eyes. 

Did she mistake someone? 

He pursed his lips, “Sophia, can I take care of you?” 

He looked at her delicate and lustrous profile, subconsciously wanting to lean in closer. 

But the next second. 

Suddenly, a great force struck from behind. 

Derick was yanked from behind and a punch landed on his right cheek. 

His eyes, deep and intense, lifted to meet the oncoming Pierce, and in an instant, he let out a soft laugh. 

Pierce’s profound eyes were as deep as ice, shrouded in an undeniable chill. A surging anger brewed in the depths of his gaze. 

However, he was leisurely arranging his own sleeves. 

“Mr. Woodward, I warned you, stay away from her?” 

In words, there was an undeniable danger. 

He glanced down at the drunkenly dazed Sophia, his heart tightening 

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instantly. 

The feeling of someone coveting your private property was not good. 

Just now, he saw the dance video Chad had filmed for him. The entanglement and tacit understanding in their movements, the soft waistlines, and the romantic atmosphere instantly ignited a raging fire in his chest. 

Why was it him? 

Pierce’s eyes were cold, his face revealing no emotion. Yet, there was something subtly intimidating about his every move. 

Derick wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, stood up with a heavy aura, and met Pierce’s gaze. Neither of them backed down. 

“Mr. Clement, who Ms. Cruise chose to be with after her divorce was her own business. What right did you have to meddle?” 

He took a step forward, his gentle and clear eyes losing their warmth, becoming cold and gloomy: 

“Your mess with Ms. Wilson was already beyond repair, were you hoping Sophia would help you save some face?” 

He looked at Pierce with a seemingly amused yet not quite amused expression. 

Watching the shadow under his eyelashes grow increasingly heavy. 

Heard what Derick said. 

By this time, Sophia had gradually come to her senses. She rubbed her forehead and frowned at the scene before her. 

Pierce’s words were biting, each one pronounced with severity: 

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“It’s none of your business, Derick.” 

Pierce wouldn’t explain to an insignificant person. 

But in Sophia’s eyes, this was taken for granted. 

She leaned on the sofa to stand up, her head still a bit dizzy. She glanced around and saw Sandra not far away, watching the drama unfold. 

She helplessly pursed her lips, beckoned, and Sandra slowly walked 

over. 

When Derick saw her wake up, his stern eyes instantly softened: 

“You drank too quickly just now, is your head still spinning?” 

Sophia leaned on the corner of the table, shaking her head. 

Pierce reached out and grabbed her wrist, his tone icy: 

“I took you home.” 

Derick’s gaze hardened, just about to say something, when Sophia shook off his hand. 

It seemed as if boundaries were hastily drawn. 

She looked at Sandra with a faint gaze: 

“Let’s go.” 

Sandra nodded with a smile, having previously carried her bag on her 

arm. 

She glanced at Pierce teasingly, unable to resist speaking: 

“Don’t bother Mr. Clement anymore, you should go back and take care 

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of that little green tea. Don’t end up wanting to jump off a building or slit your wrists again. It’s annoying when you can’t even die properly.”