Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 680

Troy's mind was a tangle of chaos, his focus slipping with every passing moment. He pressed his fingers hard against his brow, desperate to regain control, to force some clarity into his thoughts.

Things weren't over. Not yet. There was still a chance, however slim, that he could recover the children before everything was lost.

But first, he had to keep Ayla calm. Her trust had to be preserved, at least for now.

"Go through all the videos we've recorded before," Troy ordered, his voice clipped and cold. "See if there's anything we haven't already sent Ayla. Give her one of those."

Isabella hesitated, anxiety plain in her eyes. "She'll figure it out," she said quietly.

Newborns change every day, and Ayla paid close attention to every detail. Isabella, a mother herself, knew Ayla would spot even the smallest inconsistency.

Troy's expression darkened further, his gaze turning glacial. "Then what do you suggest? Should I just tell Ayla the kids are gone?"

Isabella paled, fear tightening her features. She didn't dare say another word. "I'll do it. I'll try to find a video that looks different."

Troy gave no reply, but the air around him seemed to grow heavier, the tension suffocating.

His silence was a storm cloud, thick and threatening.

Now that he knew where the children were, Troy couldn't stay in Trensea a moment longer. He had to get to Zheron as soon as possible.

He grabbed his phone and dialed. The call was answered quickly, the other man's voice full of surprise. "Troy, what a surprise! Did you get the gift I sent for the kids?"

The speaker was Garrett Flint, Troy's old friend, now living in Zheron.

The Flints were nearly as wealthy as the Storms, and though their political clout was a little less than Kayla, they still ranked among the city's elite.

In Trensea, Troy could wield power as he wished. But in Zheron, things were different. Still, Troy's status meant his network there was nothing to dismiss.

"I'm coming to Zheron. I need your help," Troy said, his voice low and urgent.

Garrett, the Flints' third son, was a kindred spirit. "Your business is my business, Troy. Of course I'll help."

Troy hung up the phone just as Isabella hurried back in, clutching her own phone.

He frowned. "What now?"

"Mr. Winston, I just received a video of the babies!" Isabella said, her voice trembling.

Troy's face changed instantly. "Give me the phone."

Isabella handed it over at once, adding, "It came from an anonymous sender. I've already asked our techs to trace it, but there's nothing—no way to track it."

Troy's eyes narrowed as he stared at the phone screen.

The babies would wake up early. In the video, Floyd and Esme were drinking their milk. They wore clothes from the same brand they always wore, and their crib was identical to the one in Blue Villa.

There was nothing in the video to suggest anything was wrong.

If he sent this video to Ayla, she'd be completely reassured—at least for now.

Draven! Don't let me find you. If I do, I'll destroy you!

Ayla's tone grew cold. "Do you need anything else?"

Troy pressed on, his voice almost pleading. "I can't wait to see you again!"

Ayla cut him off. "I'm hanging up."

Troy's voice grew desperate. "Don't you miss me at all, Ayla?"

Ayla's answer was unyielding. "I told you, I'm never coming back. These words don't mean anything."

Pain twisted Troy's face. "Ayla, your heart is so cold."

Ayla said nothing more. She hung up the phone.

Troy stared at the call screen long after the line went dead. Not long after, he gave an order to have Ayla watched. He even said, with chilling calm, that she might need to be detained at a moment's notice.

He knew Ayla would hate him for it. But he felt trapped. He had to prepare for the worst, because losing both Ayla and the babies would be more than he could bear.

Isabella, watching from the side, felt a cold shudder run through her.

Troy could beg Ayla for a trace of affection one moment, then turn around and coldly plot how to control her the next.

Maybe, Isabella thought, Troy's pursuit of Ayla had always been limited by his patience. If she refused him long enough, maybe he would have ended up like this anyway—determined to keep her imprisoned in the palm of his hand.