Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 683

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Ayla spent the entire day secluded in the lab. Her presence radiated a chill so fierce that her assistants scarcely dared to breathe in her presence. They moved with silent caution, gauging her mood before making a single move.

In her work, Ayla was the embodiment of rigor and efficiency. She tackled problems head-on, her expertise and professionalism offering those around her a sense of unwavering security.

When Ayla spoke, her authority was absolute—she commanded the room with the gravitas of a university professor, and the newest team members instinctively shrank under her gaze.

But Harper had worked with Ayla long enough, both in the lab and outside of it, to feel comfortable expressing concern.

"Ms. Keaton, is something wrong?" she ventured, her worry genuine as she noted Ayla's fatigue.

Ayla barely looked up, her voice subdued. "I'm fine. Just tired, that's all."

Without Max by her side, Ayla couldn't invite him for a meal or rely on his playful banter to lift her spirits.

She called Halle instead, but it was clear her friend was already drowning in stress from a major project at work. Ayla swallowed her own troubles, unwilling to add to her friend's burden.

Instead, she found solace in watching videos of her babies eating and sleeping.

She messaged Troy for the latest clip.

Troy always received updates every hour, so he had no trouble forwarding Ayla new footage.

She watched as her babies slept, the sight slowly calming her restless heart.

Their innocence was a balm; nothing could be more precious.

That night, Ayla joined her colleagues for dinner—a rare moment to relax. Even then, the conversation inevitably drifted toward the cutting edge of global AI technology. Ayla dove in enthusiastically, using work talk to distract herself from heavier thoughts.

Not far away, Draven watched Ayla in silence.

Herman, still worried about Draven's state of mind, was on the phone arranging a consultation with a psychologist.

When he hung up, he followed Draven's gaze and saw who he was watching.

Their vantage point was well hidden; Ayla had no idea they were there.

Herman shifted his phone in his hand and made a suggestion. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

Draven shook his head. "If she sees me now, she won't even be able to eat. I'll wait until she's finished."

Just then, trouble found Ayla.

A drunken man approached her, trying to flirt. Ayla called for her bodyguard, who quickly sent the man packing. But the encounter soured her mood, and she set down her utensils with a cold face, leaving the restaurant with her team.

Humiliated, the drunk raged to his friends. He swore that women like Ayla only played hard to get, and boasted that with a bit of cash, he could have any woman he wanted. He even pulled out his phone, showing off a photo and claiming the woman in his bed last night looked just like Ayla.

Herman knew the fool's luck had run out.

He was right.

In the parking lot, Draven's bodyguards pinned the drunk to the ground like a pig to slaughter.

One of them kicked the man's knee, forcing him to kneel before Draven.

Fear sobered the man up quickly. He had no idea who Draven was, but the freezing aura surrounding him was enough to terrify anyone.

Draven towered above him, dressed in all black, his presence dangerous and absolute. The man felt as if a knife were pressed to his throat.

Draven looked up, and at once, a bodyguard handed him a black umbrella.