Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 10

**TITLE: Unwritten Feelings Drift by Austen**

**Chapter 10: A Dog My Family Keeps**

The moment Ayla heard the word “pregnant,” a weight settled heavily on her chest, constricting her breath.

The miscarriage had carved a deep, painful wound in the fabric of her loveless marriage, which had dragged on for three long years. She hadn’t even confided in Halle, clinging to the hope that the fewer people who knew, the lighter the burden would feel.

But then Bria, with her merciless attitude, tore that scar wide open without so much as a warning. Ayla felt her fingers tremble at her side, a physical manifestation of the turmoil churning within her.

Bria, ever the provocateur, smirked with a confidence that grated on Ayla’s nerves. “I know you better than anyone, Ayla. If you were really pregnant, you’d be shouting it from the rooftops. That baby would be your golden ticket to secure your place in this family. There’s no way you could keep it a secret for even a second.”

In the past, Bria had taken pleasure in mocking Ayla’s inability to conceive, taunting her with a cruelty that cut deeper than any knife.

Ayla had endured it, not because she was weak, but because the truth was that she had longed for a child too.

But not this time. With a steely resolve, she shot back, “If you already know, why bother asking? Just move aside.”

Bria’s laughter rang out, sharp and mocking. “Is that what set you off? If you knew that Troy just threw Skyla a lavish birthday party, you’d probably drop dead right here.”

Bria had grown up in the lap of luxury, spoiled by Troy’s attention, and she had never wanted to share that spotlight with another woman.

If she had to choose someone for him, it would be Skyla, who was everything Ayla was not.

Skyla hailed from a powerful lineage, a professional powerhouse—intelligent, stunning, wealthy, and gifted. She lit up every room she entered, radiating a magnetic charm that drew people in.

Her hobbies seemed endless—she raced cars, scaled mountains, skied down slopes, and surfed the ocean waves. There was seemingly nothing she couldn’t conquer.

Bria admired that kind of free-spirited existence, and Skyla’s brilliance captivated the older generation, while her audacious pursuits made her a role model for their peers.

Three years ago, Skyla had left the country to chase her dreams, and to Bria, only a woman as extraordinary as Skyla deserved Troy’s affection.

And Ayla? She could whip up a meal, sure—but that skill was no more impressive than that of a housemaid.

How could Ayla ever hope to compete with someone like Skyla?

At least Troy seemed to agree. Throughout their three years of marriage, Bria had never once witnessed her brother throwing Ayla a birthday celebration.

But for Skyla? He had gone all out—crafting decorations, selecting personal gifts, and inviting all the elite of Trensea to the event. Troy had poured his heart and soul into every detail.

Bria hadn’t received a handmade gift from him since she turned eighteen.

In that moment of clarity, Ayla recognized Bria’s sole purpose for being there: to humiliate her. Engaging in conversation was futile.

With a frosty glare, she attempted to slip past Bria, but Bria’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist tightly.

“Let go. This spoiled heiress really doesn’t know when to stop,” Ayla snapped, her patience wearing thin.

Bria hadn’t anticipated Ayla standing her ground. Dropping her facade, she sneered, “You’re here to slip some money to your brother, aren’t you?”

Ayla’s pupils widened in shock at the accusation.

Bria’s grin widened as if she had just pulled off a successful prank. “I saw you earlier. When I asked why you were at the hospital, I was just messing with you. Don’t be mad, Ayla.”

It was clear now—Bria was there to torment her.

When Ayla’s gaze turned icy, Bria frowned, her voice dripping with disdain. “You dare glare at me when you’re living off my family’s generosity?”

Ayla’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “That was my money?”

Bria laughed, disbelief etched across her features. “Please. You’re broke. Everything you eat, drink, or wear comes from us. Where would you even get money? From your little secretary job? That’s hilarious.”

Then she curled her lips into a disdainful smile. “If you’re sneaking Troy’s money to your family, I could overlook it. Everyone has needy relatives. Asking for pocket change now and then is no big deal. My family can afford it. But don’t let it happen again. Next time, I’ll tell Troy.”

Ayla frowned, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

Bria knew that threatening to tell Troy was her trump card; it had worked wonders in the past.

Her expression was a clear challenge, waiting for Ayla to beg for mercy as she had done countless times before.

But Ayla refused to give in. With a sharp twist, she broke free from Bria’s grip, her voice steady and unwavering. “You’ve got it all wrong. I have nothing to do with Troy anymore.”

Bria snorted derisively. “Haha! Everyone knows you’re like glue he can’t scrape off. I don’t believe for a second that you’ll leave him.”

Ayla felt an unexpected calm wash over her at those words.

She had divorced Troy. What his family thought of her was no longer her concern.

Engaging in arguments with them, trying to prove her worth, would only sap her energy and trap her in a cycle of pointless disputes.

No amount of words could alter the judgments they had already formed in their hearts.

There was no point in trying to explain herself.

Her earlier surge of anger had been fueled by the pain of her miscarriage.

Now, steadier and more resolute, she looked at Bria and said in a quiet, even tone, “Think whatever you want.”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Bria to stare at her retreating figure, incredulity etched on her face.

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