Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 64

Ayla carried herself like she was rare and unreachable, 

It felt forced. It felt fake. 

It grated on Skyla’s nerves until she could barely stand the sight of her. 

The man beside Ayla made it worse. He stood tall. He looked like warmth shaped into a person. He had the kind of face that made strangers stop walking. He looked too perfect to be standing next to Ayla of all people. 

Skyla had bribed Laura with a bargain-bin skincare set that she herself would never touch. Laura spilled every detail. Ayla was basically Troy’s full-time helper. She cooked. She cleaned. She handled his errands. She slept in the same house yet barely shared a bed with him. Maybe a few times a year at most. 

Ayla had no real abilities. She had no smooth words or social charm. 

Skyla could not imagine how someone that polished and impressive would ever cross paths with her. 

Maybe it was work. Maybe he said hello once and forgot her name right after. 

Skyla rolled her eyes and looked away. 

Rolf never liked Ayla anyway. 

The last time they met, she barely glanced his way. That left a bad taste in his mouth. 

And now she was copying Skyla’s style. It looked cheap. It looked needy. Rolf hated it. He ignored her completely. 

Max, though, narrowed his gaze the moment he saw her. 

He knew Ayla far better than Rolf. He had watched her and Troy fight. He watched them make up. He watched their feelings twist around each other for years. 

And tonight, something felt different. 

The old Ayla loved Troy with her whole heart. She tried to hide it. She did not succeed. Her eyes always gave her away. Whenever she looked at him, something bright lived there. 

That light was gone, 

She looked at Troy the same way she looked at Will. Or Brooke. Or strangers walking by. No warmth. No glow. Nothing. 

Max felt a sudden jolt of hope. His heart slammed hard against his chest. It pounded so fast he felt dizzy. He kept his face calm, but he reached for a champagne flute and took slow sips to steady himself. 

It did not help. 

His heartbeat only raced faster. 

Troy arrived with the Bennett family’s heir at his side. People flocked to them instantly. 

Every single person stole a glance at Skyla and asked the same thing. “So… she is going to marry you?” 

“Are you two making it official soon?” 

Troy and Skyla stayed silent. They did not confirm. They did not deny. They let rumors do the work. And the matching rings on their hands gave everyone their answer anyway. 

People praised Troy’s taste nonstop. They said Skyla was smart, capable, and interesting. They said she was a tech expert with a doctorate and a personality that made her unforgettable. Not a trophy. Not a pretty wall piece. A whole partner. 

Will checked his phone. “Mr. Storm’s car is already at the entrance.” 

Ayla finished her sparkling water and set the glass aside. She stopped eating. Her stomach felt half full. She was done. 

Her face was even colder. 

Brooke’s breath hitched. 

Great. He managed to irritate the woman Draven protected at the summit. He could not afford that. He could not afford any of this. 

He tried to smile. He failed. Then the main doors swung wide, and the hall burst into excited noise. 

“Storm Group’s CEO is here!” 

Heads turned. Conversations stopped. Even Troy’s eyes snapped toward the entrance. 

The CEO of Storm Group had always been a mystery. 

Helena, heiress of the Saffrons and the person in charge of the charity dinner appeared. 

This House of Myur, an old villa, was the Saffrons’ private estate. 

The Saffrons were the head of Trensea’s old money. Only they had the influence to invite the famous and powerful to this dinner. 

Helena Saffron appeared first. She was thirty-five, tall and poised, dressed in deep bamboo green. She carried herself like she owned every square inch of the mansion. And she did. 

Two assistants followed behind her. Then came three silhouettes behind them. 

Draven. Herman. James. The heirs of Zheron. 

Draven walked at the front. He was the star tonight. He crossed the threshold, and the room changed. His features were sharp, powerful, almost unreal. He stood close to six-foot-three, lean and strong, with an aura that felt like steel disguised as silk. He did not smile. He did not soften. He never needed to. The moment he stepped in, the hall went silent. The entire space seemed to hold its breath.