Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 679

Ayla sensed that something was wrong, a shadow of unease she couldn't shake. She dialed Troy's number without hesitating.

He picked up almost instantly.

"I miss the babies," Ayla said, her voice gentle but direct. "Can you send me a video of them today?"

Troy's reply was rough and weary, his voice hoarse as if he'd spent the night awake or was burning with a fever.

"Alright, I'll send it to you," he muttered.

He paused, sounding drained. "Just give me a minute. I'm a little wiped out right now."

Ayla pressed, "Where's the nanny? She can send it, if you're busy."

It should have been a harmless question, but it landed like a slap. Troy snapped, "Why can't I take the videos myself? I want to be a good dad—take care of them, send you the videos. Why do you have to question everything I do?"

Ayla's patience wore thin. "Troy, what is wrong with you? How did I provoke you this time?"

Troy let out a long, frustrated breath. "Just wait for my video. Don't ask anyone else."

He hung up, and his expression darkened as he stared at the person kneeling before him—the one who had been giving a report.

Ayla's call had interrupted, but Troy had already heard what he needed to hear.

He couldn't process it.

When the report was finally over, Troy sat frozen for several seconds, his face a mask of shock. Then, rage twisted his features, and his eyes filled with a cold, killing light. His jaw clenched so hard it sent a jolt of pain through his skull.

"Zheron?" he spat. "Draven!"

His voice was so frigid, it made the air in the room go still. Even his subordinates shrank back, terrified by the fury simmering in his tone.

Troy hadn't slept a wink, but at least now he had a lead—he'd traced the trail back to Zheron.

If it was Zheron, it had to involve Draven.

Troy's instincts screamed the answer before the facts confirmed it.

If he were in Draven's shoes, he would have done the exact same thing. But the reality was, he wasn't Draven.

Their positions were nothing alike.

The truth was brutal: Draven had taken his children.

Months of silence hadn't meant Draven didn't care. It meant he was biding his time for this blow.

Draven—how dare you do this to me?

Troy's mind spun with fury. He swore to himself that he would find his children, no matter what it took. When he finally tracked down the arrogant bastard, he'd make sure Draven paid for it—a lesson he'd never forget.

He never imagined it would be Draven who would challenge him like this.

"Go to Zheron. Find them for me!" he barked.

Ayla had less than five days left on her trip. If Troy could find Draven and get the kids back before she returned, nothing would change.

But if Ayla found out her children were with Draven, she'd run straight back into his arms.

Just the thought made Troy's blood run cold.

To lose both his wife and children to Draven would be the ultimate disgrace.

Isabella, nearly crushed by the tension, finally dared to speak. "Mr. Winston, what should I do about Ayla's request for the video?"

Troy's heart twisted painfully at the thought of Ayla. If the worst happened—if Ayla found out the truth and went looking for Draven—he'd rather keep her close, never letting her go.

That way, Draven would never get what he wanted.

Why had it come to this?

Troy had tried to change, tried to be a better man. He never wanted things to go this far.

But Draven had pushed him right to the edge, and now, Troy was scared of what he was capable of.

Isabella hadn't slept all night, her nerves stretched to the breaking point. She had to ask again, her voice trembling. "M... Mr. Winston, what about the video Ayla asked for?"