Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 681

Troy had never truly tried to change. Even when he recognized his own faults, he made no effort to rein in his temper. How could he possibly hope to win Ayla back like this?

Isabella knew the truth deep down. It was never going to happen.

Still, she kept that knowledge to herself.

...

Ayla pressed a gentle kiss to her phone screen, grinning at the image of her baby sweetly drinking milk. She gathered her things and headed for the lab.

Before leaving, she paused at Max's door and knocked.

Max had only just let her know he was leaving, so he was probably still packing up.

Ayla just wanted to say goodbye.

Her relationship with Max was easy to navigate, almost effortless. Most of the time, they were just friends, though technically, they were still a couple. It wasn't anything serious, but there was a relaxed closeness between them. She could reach out when she needed to, never worrying about being a burden.

If she was feeling low, she could call Max to join her for a meal, a drink, or just to talk. That was the emotional comfort Max provided—exactly what Ayla wanted from him, nothing more.

Max liked her and wasn't afraid to show it, but he never pushed for more than she could give. He truly enjoyed her company, and the dynamic worked for them both.

After half a minute, Max opened the door, just wide enough for Ayla to see his upper body.

He wore a loose bathrobe, hair still damp, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Sorry, I was in the shower. Want to come in and sit for a bit?"

Behind the door, out of Ayla's sight, a bodyguard pressed a gun to Max's side—first to his forehead, now at his waist.

But Max wasn't fazed. He smiled even wider, teasing, "Want to admire my physique? If you're tempted, come on in."

With his wet hair, half-open robe, and water still dripping from his skin, Max's natural allure was impossible to miss. If anyone else tried this, it would have seemed ridiculous, but with Max, Ayla had to admit, the sight was genuinely pleasing.

She had work to do, and Max would be leaving Silvoria soon anyway.

"Maybe next time," Ayla replied. "I just came to say goodbye. I need to meet up with my team."

Ayla was always efficient with work, never letting anything slow her down.

Max nodded, still smiling. "I'll come find you when I'm done. Oh, and don't forget to miss me."

Max's smile faltered. The inability to read Draven's mood made him feel exposed and powerless. Conversation with Draven was never fun, and Max decided to drop it altogether.

He had prepared for this and wasn't about to let himself be caught off guard. For now, he had no choice but to accept defeat and go find James, whom he disliked.

Still, he wondered—would Ayla, so young and vibrant, ever truly fall for someone like Draven? Someone carrying the weight of age and darkness, even if they were the same age as Max?

Max had charm and an easy personality, never self-destructive, so he figured he still had a real shot.

With the bodyguard watching every move, Max followed his assistant Mervin to pack his things.

Herman watched Draven closely.

From where he stood, he could only see the sharp angle of Draven's jaw, the coldness in his profile. Draven looked like a statue carved from ice.

It was a troubling sight, but Herman sensed that Draven had finally let himself feel—at least a little.

Still, there was a more pressing issue. Draven's hand was still bleeding, the wounds left untreated. Herman fetched the first-aid kit from the suite and returned. "Let's get that wound bandaged," he said quietly.