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Married to my Downfall

he tightens his grip on her wrist, his cold, lustful eyes bore into her soul, reminding her of the vows they once exchanged. "You are mine and mine alone," he whispers, his voice dripping with dark possessiveness. But Diara is no longer the broken woman he left behind. She meets his gaze with a defiant grin, her voice steady as she declares, "I have signed the divorce papers, there’s nothing between us." But Kellan, ever the predator, smirks at her defiance, licking his lips in a way that makes her skin crawl. "I have not yet signed the divorce papers," he sneers, "It’s null and void." His words send a wave of disgust through her, but she refuses to back down. She has suffered enough—endured the heartbreak of losing countless children, the relentless torment of the Crownstar family, and the pain of loving a man who only brought her misery. Diara thought she had escaped his clutches, but now he has returned, more dangerous and determined than ever to claim her as his own. He may have broken her once, but this time, Diara is prepared to fight back. She knows that Kellan is a monster, a man who thrives on control and manipulation, and she is ready to do whatever it takes to free herself from his grasp once and for all. As the battle between them intensifies, Diara must confront the demons of her past and the dark reality of her present. In a world where love is twisted into something unrecognizable, she must find the strength to reclaim her life and protect herself from the man who once vowed to cherish her—but who now seeks to destroy her.

SilverSkyla · สมัยใหม่
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33 Chs

Chapter 8

The morning sun streamed through the large windows of the well-furnished office, casting long, golden rays across the polished wooden floor. 

The room was immaculate, a reflection of the man who occupied it, but today, its usual calm was overshadowed by a palpable tension. Behind a broad, mahogany desk sat a man, his sharp eyes scanning the files spread before him. 

His brow was furrowed, deep lines etched into his forehead as he reviewed the reports with increasing frustration.

The man was tall, his frame slightly muscular, hinting at a strength beneath the tailored grey suit that clung to his broad shoulders. 

His dark hair was meticulously brushed to the side, each strand in perfect order, lending him an air of authority and sophistication. 

Normally, his features were delicate and sweet, but today, a persistent frown marred his handsome face, giving him an edge that matched the gravity of the situation.

As he flipped through yet another disappointing report, the office door creaked open, and a young man stepped inside, his expression anxious. 

The man didn't look up immediately, his focus still on the documents before him. 

"Sir," the young man began hesitantly, his voice tinged with nervousness. He could sense the storm brewing beneath his superior's calm exterior.

 "The stocks are falling drastically, and it seems our team assigned to it isn't performing. The situation is getting worse."

At these words, the man at the desk finally looked up, his dark eyes narrowing. His face darkened with anger, the frustration he had been trying to keep at bay now bubbling to the surface. 

This issue had been plaguing him for some time, and the incompetence of those he had trusted to handle it was only adding fuel to the fire.

 He needed a professional, someone who knew what they were doing, but all he had found so far were fools—useless, bumbling fools who seemed incapable of grasping the seriousness of the situation.

His hand moved to his temples, massaging them in an attempt to ease the growing headache. The room felt stifling, the once comforting sunlight now an irritant to his already frazzled nerves. 

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he sent the young man away, unable to deal with more bad news at that moment.

He stood up abruptly, the chair behind him scraping against the floor as he did. Turning his back to the office, he faced the large windows, looking out over the city below. 

The view was stunning, the bustling metropolis bathed in the glow of the morning sun, but he found no comfort in it.

 Instead, he felt a growing sense of isolation, as if the world outside was moving on without him, leaving him trapped in this room with nothing but his frustrations.

The sunlight glinted off the glass, casting a reflection of his own face back at him. The frown that had taken up permanent residence on his features was still there, deepening the lines on his otherwise youthful face. 

His thoughts raced, searching for a solution, for a way out of this mess, but each idea seemed more futile than the last.

Lost in a maze of his own thoughts. The weight of his responsibilities bore down on him, and no matter how hard he tried to find a way out, every solution seemed to slip through his fingers like sand.

The door behind him opened, and the sound of footsteps approached, but Kellan didn't turn around. He wasn't in the mood for company, especially not now.

"Kellan," a familiar voice called out, light and playful, as if trying to lift the gloom that had settled in the room. 

Kellan recognized the voice immediately—Maxton, his long-time friend and confidant. 

Maxton had a way of breezing into a room, his presence almost always accompanied by a sense of ease and lightheartedness.

"Cheer up, bro," Maxton continued, his tone teasing, as he walked further into the room. But Kellan remained unresponsive, his thoughts too tangled to be easily swayed by Maxton's usual antics.

Seeing Kellan's distant demeanor, Maxton's smile faltered slightly, but only for a moment. He wasn't one to give up so easily. "Worry no more," he said confidently, walking over to stand directly in front of Kellan, blocking his view of the city. 

"Don't ignore me. Have you forgotten what I'm capable of?" Maxton's tone was now a mix of seriousness and mischief, a reminder that he was not to be dismissed so easily. "Now wipe that frown away from that handsome face of yours."

Kellan finally looked at him, his frown deepening. But before he could say anything, Maxton turned away, heading over to the small bar in the corner of the office. 

He poured himself a drink, the sound of liquid splashing into the glass filling the room, before he settled into the chair opposite Kellan's desk. He took a slow sip, savoring the taste, before placing the glass down with a soft clink.

"Spill," Maxton said, leaning back in the chair with an air of casual confidence. He was in no rush, knowing Kellan would come around eventually.

Kellan sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, before reluctantly sitting down at his desk.

 He was about to brush off Maxton's insistence when his friend spoke again, his voice dropping to a more serious tone.

"Well, I have a solution," Maxton began, his eyes watching Kellan closely, gauging his reaction. "I've found a genius lady who's well-versed in the trade stock field, but…" he paused, letting the suspense hang in the air for a moment, "right now, she's currently working as a cloth designer in a local shop."

Kellan blinked, staring at Maxton as if he had just grown a second head. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, skepticism lacing his voice. 

"How could you bring me a cloth designer, and now you're telling me that she knows about stocks? Does that make any sense to you?"

Maxton didn't flinch. Instead, he smiled, a knowing smile that always seemed to have an edge of mystery to it.

 "Don't always judge a book by its cover, Kellan," he said calmly. "I always tell you that. Now, have I ever failed you?"

Kellan wanted to argue, to point out the absurdity of the situation, but something in Maxton's unwavering confidence made him pause. 

Maxton had a knack for finding solutions in the most unexpected places, and though his methods often seemed unorthodox, they had never let Kellan down before.

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