Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 700

Their employer was a man of considerable power and unknown depth. The staff had seen enough to know that much.

The two guests carried themselves like people of standing. But probably not Storm-level standing.

When the young woman turned on Draven and dressed him down in front of everyone, the staff froze where they stood.

She looked younger than him by several years. Youth didn't carry weight in these circles. So where did she find the nerve to speak to Draven like that? To call him a lunatic to his face in his own home?

Was she not afraid of him at all?

The staff stood rigid. The words hadn't been directed at them, but hearing them felt like being caught in the blast anyway. Not one of them dared move.

Then came the part none of them could make sense of. Draven didn't react. He didn't even pause. He simply agreed, and did what she said. Herman hadn't been able to move him, yet this woman had managed it in 30 seconds.

"You're right," Draven said quietly. "I'll get the wound treated. Herman will look after you and take you to the children."

After Draven left, Herman followed his instructions and saw to Ayla, leading them to the guest residence.

Herman watched Draven walk away with the doctors and let out a long breath. Thank god he'd listened to her. When Draven dug in, there was no moving him.

He turned his attention to Ayla. She must have been worried about Draven, at least a little. That was the only explanation for why she'd said anything at all.

But she didn't look worried. She looked cold. And she was standing close to Max, moving with him, the two of them clearly together.

Herman found that genuinely hard to accept. If that was real, what was Draven supposed to do now? Wait in the background? Play some humiliating supporting role?

Knowing Draven's state of mind these past months, Herman thought he might actually be willing to. The man wasn't going to give up on Ayla. That much was obvious.

Herman had coffee prepared and waiting, but Ayla didn't want coffee. She wanted the children. He took her straight to the nursery.

She had spent days asking Troy for video footage and noticed nothing wrong. Now she understood why. The nursery here was set up almost identically to the one at Blue Villa in Trensea. Every detail matched.

"Mr. Howell." Her voice dropped. "Don't be vague with me. I said I'm taking them. That's not a question."

Herman didn't confirm or deny it. "That's not my decision to make. You'd need to speak with Draven."

Ayla laughed, short and humorless. "They're my children. Since when does Draven get a say in what happens to them?" She paused. "You've been with him through all of this. Did you ever try to talk him out of any of it?"

Herman wanted to say yes. The honest answer was that it hadn't made a difference.

Ayla pressed her hands together in her lap. "When Floyd and Esme flew back from Moblosia, the pressure change made them cry the entire flight. They broke out in a rash. Then your people took them to Zheron, and they cried the whole way there too."

Her voice stayed even but the edge in it was unmistakable. "Babies are sensitive to everything—a new environment, a different smell on the person holding them. Even when everything is perfectly arranged, they suffer. And I promise you, these past few days have not been quiet."

She looked at him directly. "They're not Draven's children. They're not yours. Maybe that makes it easy for you not to think about. But it doesn't make it easy for me."

Herman had nothing to say to that. The first few days had been exactly as she described. The babies had cried almost without stopping.