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.
After much contemplation, she bought fruits and some health supplements and went to the hospital.
Upon seeing Zella, Brittany nodded with à detached air that hinted at expectation. “Are you here to plead for Leda’s case?” she
asked, her voice light as a feather yet heavy with implication.

Zella was struck mute.
She knew Leda was implicated in the situation, and Brittany, the victim, was unlikely to offer clemency.
Setting down her peace offerings, Zella had a sudden change of heart. “I just wanted to see how you were,” she said instead.
Brittany saw through the facade. “Regardless, won’t be the one to free Leda.”
Realizing her mistake and faced with Brittany’s frailty, Zella found herself at a loss for words.
She stayed in the hospital, keeping Brittany company all afternoon until sleep claimed her once again. Then, Zella rose to leave.
Stepping out of the ward, she felt adrift.
With Leda still in police custody, the Andersons unhelpful, and Marcel powerless, Zella found herself wandering the streets
aimlessly, eventually stumbling into a 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 lost.
The call ended abruptly with a sharp click.
Zella knew 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, her energy drained, forcing her to lean against the wall for support.
The moon crested the rooftops, casting a misty glow, enveloping the alley in a chilling, intangible embrace.
Zella feared the dark.
The alley, devoid of light, sent tremors through her body.
Then, the faint echo of footsteps stirred the silence.
Instinctively, her fists clenched.
Under the moonlight, shadows stretched long and ominous, and Zella’s lips turned pale with fright.
On the brink of panic, the sound of
“Zella.”

It was Marcel. heels rolling over cobblestones filled the air.
Zella rushed toward the sound, and upon seeing him, she wrapped her arms around Marcel in a desperate embrace, her whole
body trembling.
“Marcel, I love you so much!” she exclaimed. “Thank goodness you’re here.
Marcel tensed slightly. He wasn’t fond of intimate contact, but for some reason, he always made an exception for Zella. He
hadn’t been concerned about Zella’s misadventure, yet here he was, drawn inexplicably to her presence.
He gently pushed Zella away, his expression cold. “Zella, cut the clingy act.”
But Zella was beyond caring about his icy demeanor; she planted a fervent kiss on him, pressing herself against him.
“Marcel, I’ll never leave you,” she whispered.
Marcel was typically reserved, even in moments of passion.
He let Zella kiss him, looking into her eyes, which sparkled with a fierce luminosity under the moonlight.
More dazzling than a sky full of stars.