All Chapters of Turning Heads After Divorce: Chapter 491 - Chapter 500

After Zayne drove off, Anna quickly pulled out her phone. When she saw the string of zeros on the transfer, she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Working with Ms. Speight really does pay off," she thought. … Zayne had long noticed Marisol's unsettled mood all day. When the chance came, he asked, "Is something troubling you, Ms. Speight?" "Yeah. Something completely absurd," she answered inwardly. Saying it aloud would only make her sound like a fool. She couldn't figure out why one delusional remark from Elizabeth in her unsteady state of mind would rattle her so deeply. There was no reason for it. She wasn't that timid. That night, Marisol finally drifted into a fitful sleep, only to be swallowed by nightmares. First, she dreamt of the banquet in Lumero, where Lucian had shielded her from a bullet. She watched him collapse onto the rose-strewn floor, bleeding out until his breath faded away. Then, the dream twisted. From a grave in the cemetery, a hand broke through. Luc

After a long silence, Marisol finally composed herself. The urge for confrontation had drained away, leaving only a cool indifference. "Once the Kyro situation is resolved, will you finally leave me alone?" "Yes," Zayne replied. "How much longer will that take?" "Overseas is his territory. But the moment he sets foot in Cerulea, the advantage shifts to ours. For now, he hasn't shown any intention of crossing the border." "How long must I wait, then?" she asked."It won't be long. He will come, and that day isn't far," Zayne responded. His tone carried a quiet certainty. With the greatest threat within Cerulea already gone, even a man as cautious as Kyro would eventually lower his guard. He could likely wait a year before he struck again. He wouldn't have the patience to wait longer. Once he crossed the border, the roles of hunter and prey would blur. Marisol let out a cold laugh. "You're not asking me to wait another year, are you?" "No." Fine. She could endure a lit

In the narrow, winding alley, Marisol came to an abrupt halt. She turned to stare in surprise at Nick, whose smile remained unreadable. What did she think of Zayne? Setting aside the question itself, the two men barely knew each other, and Nick had never shown this sort of curiosity before. It felt oddly out of place. "Why are you asking about him so suddenly?" she questioned. Her brow furrowed. "I just want to be certain. If you truly can't stand him, I can find a way to remove him and give you some peace," Nick explained. "Find a way? What way?" she pressed. Nick smiled, but he offered no further explanation.There were methods, of course. However, he didn't intend to share them with Marisol. Any move against Zayne would mean crossing the Mullers. After all, he was their loyal employee. Yet even a good dog could turn savage without a master's hand. Nick had tolerated it thus far because he was well aware of the history between the Mullers and the McConnells overseas.

The food was divine, and Marisol could hardly stop herself from eating. Noticing her delight, Nick's smile widened. Slipping on a glove, he leisurely began peeling shrimp for her. His voice was low and warm. "Try some of the other dishes too. They're just as good." "Mmm." Marisol popped a candied yam into her mouth, then hurried to stop him. "I can do it myself. You should eat too." "Alright."Nick didn't persist. He set a few pieces of peeled shrimp on her plate, removed the gloves, and started on his own meal. He knew Marisol well. He understood the boundaries of closeness she could accept, and he never pushed too hard. He would edge forward just enough before drawing back at the right moment, letting her grow accustomed to his nearness and presence. He had to melt away her defenses, little by little. What he wanted was a partnership built on mutual respect and a bond that lasted a lifetime. That required patience, which was something he had in abundance. If he had on

But soon, Sienna abruptly broke the silence. "Didn't I invite you to our house before? My foolish son has been thinking about you constantly." Invite was hardly the word. After their encounter at the banquet, Sienna had somehow gotten hold of Marisol's number. She'd called incessantly, flooded her with messages, and demanded she visit the Perrin residence. Yet, there hadn't been the faintest trace of courtesy in her words. It was less an invitation than a command. Knowing the woman meant no good, and put off by her aggressive approach, Marisol had refused each time. When the harassment continued, she blocked the number altogether. Hence, while she hadn't met Sienna often, she had a fairly clear read on her. Truth be told, people like Sienna weren't new to Marisol. She had crossed paths with enough of them to grow numb. Being forced into another so-called treat or invitation hardly rattled her anymore. Getting angry would've been a waste of energy. Though she bristled at Sie