Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 691

Draven's face was stone cold. "Feel free to ask Garrett whether he thinks he can take the children from me."

The words landed like a physical weight. Garrett studied the man and arrived at an uncomfortable conclusion—Draven was genuinely unhinged.

Insults bounced off him without leaving a mark. There was no satisfaction in it, only a deepening sense of futility. A man with no weak points wasn't an opponent; he was a wall.

Garrett had genuinely given up. He glanced over at Troy, wondering if Troy still had anything left to push with.

He probably didn't.

Troy's face had gone a shade past pale. He knew. Still, he pulled out his phone and sent a message, then shoved it back into his pocket and let his hand fall to his side, knuckles white.

"Draven." Troy's voice was quiet in a deliberate way. "We both know everything you've done has been about getting Ayla back. So tell me, if I put her under house arrest on my property right now, do you honestly think you could reach her?"

Something shifted in Draven's eyes. The stillness cracked, just slightly, and what showed through was unmistakably dangerous.

Since learning that Ayla despised being watched, he'd pulled his surveillance team. He'd been waiting for her to return from her business trip before telling her everything about the children. He had assumed Troy wanted her affection enough to avoid crossing lines she wouldn't forgive.

House arrest hadn't entered the calculation.

Draven's fury climbed dangerously. He snapped, "What did you do to her?"

The words landed like ice water. Draven had actually lost his temper.

Garrett felt a reluctant surge of respect for Troy. He'd thought Draven was untouchable, and yet Troy had found the crack. These two brothers were something else entirely.

Troy's smile was thin and ugly. "Ayla married me. She'll always be mine. You're nothing but a bastard who was never supposed to exist, and you will never take her from me."

Draven drew his gun and shot Troy in the leg.

He'd held himself in check too long. Once the control broke, he stopped caring about consequences.

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