Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 29

**TITLE: Unwritten Feelings Drift by Austen**

**Chapter 29: A Damsel in Distress**

Ayla’s effortless rapport with Draven did not escape the notice of those around them.

To the rest of the world, Draven was a striking figure—handsome, powerful, and seemingly out of reach.

Everyone yearned to draw closer to him, but since that was a formidable task, the next best option was to connect through those who orbited his presence.

The atmosphere at the table crackled with laughter, snippets of idle chatter, and the clinking of glasses as drinks circulated among the guests.

Before long, a voice rang out, cutting through the din. “Hello, I’m Brooke Goodman, GM of Vortex Tech. May I ask your name?”

With a confident flourish, he filled Ayla’s glass halfway with whiskey, the amber liquid swirling enticingly.

A wave of panic surged within her, tightening her chest. Just the night before, she had taken antibiotics, and the thought of mixing them with alcohol sent a jolt of fear through her. She could already envision the consequences—a night spent in misery, her body rebelling against her.

Yet, at an event like this, it would be utterly inappropriate for someone of her lowly status as a mere secretary to refuse such a gesture.

Clenching her fist, she steeled herself, determined to raise the glass to her lips and pretend to sip.

But before she could execute her plan, a long, pale hand reached out, claiming the glass before she could touch it.

Draven’s strong fingers encircled the glass, lifting it with an effortless grace. He raised it toward Brooke, his gaze unwavering. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he downed the entire contents in one swift motion.

Instead of returning the empty glass to Ayla, he set it down in front of himself, a subtle yet powerful statement.

Draven’s intense gaze locked onto Brooke’s, a silent warning that spoke volumes.

“Don’t press her to drink,” it seemed to say.

Ayla found herself frozen, her mind racing in disbelief.

Why is he standing up for me?

Brooke mirrored her shock. Initially, he had been elated that Draven had acknowledged him with the toast, but as their eyes connected, he felt a chill run down his spine.

Regaining his composure, he lifted his own glass and drained it in a single gulp, forcing a smile. “A toast to Mr. Storm.”

With that, he retreated to his seat, leaving the air thick with intrigue.

Every movement Draven made commanded attention, and after he had shielded Ayla, the murmurs around the table faded into silence. No one dared to approach her again.

Yet, whispers began to circulate—curiosity ignited among the guests. Who was this woman, and what was her connection to Draven?

Feeling a surge of gratitude for his intervention, Ayla resolved to set the record straight.

Leaning toward the person beside her, she engaged in light conversation, deftly steering the narrative. Within moments, it was common knowledge that she was merely a temporary fill-in secretary, stepping in for Draven’s regular assistant who had been called away on urgent business.

Just like that, the rumors dissipated like smoke in the wind.

But even if Ayla had chosen to remain silent, she knew that no one would dare to gossip once they stepped outside these walls. Only a fool would risk offending someone like Draven, who stood at the pinnacle of power.

Among the crowd, Herman was the most astonished.

As the vice president of Storm Group and one of Draven’s closest allies, he had never witnessed Draven intervene for something as trivial as this—let alone protect a secretary with such fervor.

Herman narrowed his eyes, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice. “What’s gotten into you?”

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