The Billionaire Who Stole My Heart

Chapter 879

As Soren peered at the documents spread before him, his face drained of color, and the fire in his lungs for a good curse seemed to fizzle out.

“Don’t worry, we’re family here,” Isaac said, his voice smooth as whiskey but with an edge sharp as a knife blade. “You can sell your shares to me or keep them. Either way, I won’t shortchange you when it comes to the annual dividends.”

It was a velvet glove cloaking an iron fist as Isaac suggested, “Soren, you’re getting on in years. It’s time you stepped back, spent your days playing with the grandchildren and enjoying your golden years.”

Dazed, Soren drifted away from the confrontation.

Isaac, methodical as a chess master, neutralized the peripheral family members and placed his own pawns in power.

Marcel, upon learning his months of hard graft had evaporated into thin air, was so furious it was a miracle he didn’t have a stroke on the spot.

And to add insult to injury, Leda had been whisked away by the cops, her fate unknown.

Manuel, seething at being cuckolded by Leda, refused to lift a finger to help.

Marcel’s influence waned, his voice barely a whisper in family matters.

When Zella sought out the Andersons, echoing Marcel’s plea, they flatly refused to get involved. They even advised her to divorce Marcel.

Divorce? Zella wouldn’t hear of it. She had a blazing row with the Andersons and cut all

ties with them.

Marcel still resided at Salter Manor, his mind spinning, yet failing to secure Leda’s release. Watching Marcel’s spirit wither, Zella’s heart softened.

fruits and some health supplements

à detached air that hinted at expectation. “Are you here to plead for Leda’s case?” she asked, her voice

struck mute.

Leda was implicated in the situation, and

had a sudden change of heart. “I just wanted

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how you were,” she said

through the facade. “Regardless, won’t be the one to

her mistake and faced with Brittany’s frailty, Zella found herself at

company all afternoon until sleep claimed her once again. Then, Zella

out of the ward,

secluded alley. Lost within it’s labyrinth, she circled until the realization of being lost dawned on her. As dusk turned to twilight, she phoned Marcel, admitting she was

ended abruptly with a

Marcel was in a foul mood. Desiring to figure a way out on her own, she found herself growing increasingly lightheaded with each step, until ultimately,

the rooftops, casting a misty glow, enveloping the alley in a chilling, intangible embrace.

feared the

alley, devoid of light, sent

faint echo of footsteps stirred the silence.

her fists

shadows stretched long and ominous, and Zella’s lips

panic, the sound of

“Zella.”

It was Marcel.