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Chapter 1 Borrowed for One Night
At 9:20 p.m., Arabella Wayne took off her magnifier and rubbed her tired eyes.
A vintage sterling silver cuff lay open on the workbench. Its surface was badly worn, and the faint pattern etched into it was almost impossible to make out.
She brushed away the debris and was about to call it a night when her phone buzzed.
Her workshop assistant, Brooke Moore, had sent her a screenshot, then followed it up with a message.
Brooke: [Arabella, don't freak out yet.]
Arabella stared at the message, her brow tightening before she tapped open the image. It showed a brightly lit charity gala, complete with a grand staircase, a red carpet, and press cameras flashing.
Maxwell Kingston stood at the center of the photo in a black tuxedo, straight-backed and composed.
Beside him stood a woman in an emerald designer gown. Her hair was swept up, showing off the elegant line of her neck, and her camera-ready smile was perfectly practiced.
The moment Arabella saw what was on the screen, her finger froze.
The bridal diamond tiara on the woman's head, the filigree drop earrings at her ears, and the ruby choker at her throat were all unmistakably familiar.
Arabella knew every piece so well that she didn't need to zoom in or take a second look.
The third diamond at the back of the tiara had a setting Arabella had repaired by hand.
One of the rubies had once had a hairline crack, but Maxwell's grandmother, Alma Kingston, hadn't wanted it replaced, so Arabella had painstakingly remounted it instead.
The longer Arabella stared at the photo, the more her expression cooled.
Meanwhile, Brooke's messages kept coming.
[The group chats are blowing up.]
[They're saying that woman is Mr. Kingston's new girlfriend.]
[Some people are saying the bridal jewelry set was reserved for the future Mrs. Kingston.]
[Arabella, are you okay?]
Arabella didn't reply. She zoomed in until she saw Maxwell's hand lifted behind the woman, as if he were shielding her while guiding her forward.
The image pulled Arabella back to the Kingston family dinner last year.
Alma had opened the rosewood jewelry casket, patted Arabella's hand, and said, "Restore this set for me first. When you and Maxwell finally have a proper wedding, I'll put it on you myself."
Arabella had only smiled and let the subject drop, while Maxwell sat right beside them, hearing every word without saying a thing.
The restoration had taken three full months, and Arabella hadn't cut a single corner, not even on the last loose stone, because it was the Kingston family's antique bridal jewelry set.
For the first time in their three years of marriage, every hour Arabella spent restoring that set had made her feel a little more like Mrs. Kingston in truth, not just in name.
Now, that same set sat on another woman's head.
Arabella's phone rang. It wasn't Maxwell, but the landline from the Kingston mansion. She stared at the number for a moment before answering.
Freddy Bally, the Kingston family's butler, was on the other end, his voice as steady as ever. "Mrs. Kingston, Mrs. Alma Kingston would like you to come home."
Arabella gave a quiet laugh. "At this hour?"
Freddy paused, then lowered his voice. "You've probably seen what's going on online. Mrs. Alma Kingston wants you to come home and help smooth things over."
Arabella's expression went flat. She leaned against the workbench, though her tone stayed light. "Smooth what over?"
"That she lent out the bridal set at the last minute, and Mr. Maxwell Kingston only showed up at the gala as an escort. That's all.
"Mrs. Kingston, please come home. The family needs you there. Otherwise, this will only get harder to explain." Freddy spoke quickly, as if he had rehearsed every word.
Arabella almost laughed. "Where's Maxwell?"
Freddy went quiet for a second before replying, "He hasn't come back yet."
Arabella understood then. Maxwell didn't have to come back or explain himself. She was the one the Kingston family expected to come home and clean up the mess.
Arabella ended the call, grabbed her car keys, and headed for the door.
Even as she was walking, Brooke's messages kept coming.
[Arabella, where are you going?]
[Don't handle this on your own.]
Arabella finally replied: [Back to the Kingston mansion.]
After a moment, she sent one more message. [I want to see what part they expect me to play this time.]
*****
The Kingston mansion was lit up from end to end, every window bright against the night.
Arabella had barely stepped out of her car when voices drifted from the living room. She pushed open the front door, and every head in the room turned toward her at once.
Alma sat in the center of the living room, looking tense. Beside her, Maxwell's mother, Margaret Kingston, wore a tight frown, while the gala photo still glowed on the tablet on the coffee table.
Arabella stopped in the doorway without changing her shoes. The first thing she saw was the rosewood jewelry casket by the sofa, open and half-empty. Her chest tightened at the sight.
Margaret spoke first, her voice still gentle. "You're back."
Arabella didn't answer. Her attention stayed on the jewelry box. "Where's the set?"
Margaret's smile stiffened. "Arabella, now isn't the time. Things online are already a mess."
Arabella finally turned to her. "I asked where it is."
Alma cleared her throat. "I had it sent out for cleaning."
Arabella gave a small nod and walked in slowly. She stopped beside the casket, looked down for a few seconds, then lifted the burgundy velvet lining.
A long blonde hair was caught beneath one corner. It wasn't hers. Her hair wasn't that long.
The room went silent.
Margaret stiffened. "What do you think you're doing?"
Arabella held up the strand of hair and looked straight at her. "I restored this set."
"Of course we know that," Margaret cut in at once. "That's exactly why we asked you to come back and talk this through.
"The story is already everywhere, and no one knows this bridal set better than you do. You're the best person to explain it."
"The best person?" Arabella almost laughed. "You mean I'm supposed to play the gracious Mrs. Kingston, act reasonable, and help cover for all of you. Is that it?"
Margaret choked on her response.
Alma's face hardened as well. "Arabella, get a hold of yourself first. I'm the one who approved lending out the bridal set."
Arabella turned to her. "You approved it?"
"There was a business contact at the gala, someone Maxwell owed a favor to." Alma's tone stayed calm, but every word carried weight. "Her mother needed something eye-catching for the event, so I lent her the set for one night. What's the problem?"
Arabella's mouth curved faintly at that.
When Arabella was restoring the set, Alma had sat beside her, running her fingers over the stones and telling her how generations of Kingston women had worn them.
Back then, Alma had warned her to handle every piece with care. But now, the set had ended up on another woman, and all that care had been dismissed with a casual "just for one night."
Before Arabella could speak, footsteps sounded at the door. Maxwell had returned, and the air in the room shifted the moment he stepped in.
Margaret stood at once, as if she had finally found someone to lean on. "You're finally back. The mess online isâ"
Maxwell lifted a hand, cutting Margaret off before turning to Arabella.
Arabella was already looking at him.
Before Maxwell walked in, Arabella had imagined every possibility. Maybe he would call. Maybe he would come home and explain first. Maybe he would at least tell her the bridal set hadn't been his idea.
But the first thing he noticed was the strand of hair in her hand. His brow tightened. "Why are you holding that?"
Arabella looked at him, then suddenly smiled. "That's the first thing you say to me after coming back?"
Maxwell studied her face, his expression darkening. "Arabella."
"Don't call me that." Arabella dropped the strand of hair back into the empty casket. "Tell me first why that bridal set ended up on another woman's head."
Maxwell took off his coat and handed it to a nearby maid, his voice even. "She only borrowed it for one night."
The living room went still, and Arabella looked at him for several seconds without saying a word.
Arabella thought, 'He said it so lightly, as if the set I spent three months restoring were just a dress someone could borrow from a boutique.'
Arabella gave a small nod, as if it had finally clicked. "So that's what it was to you. Do you know I've never even worn that bridal set?"
Maxwell's brow drew together. "What are you getting at?"
"What am I getting at?" Arabella took a step forward. "Alma told me that set was meant for me, and you put it on another woman.
"You walked the red carpet with her and let the press photograph you together. Then I come back here, and all I get is that it was some harmless favor."
Her eyes slowly reddened. "Maxwell, what am I to you?"
Maxwell's face darkened. "You're making this into something bigger than it is."
Arabella let out a short laugh. "Bigger than it is?"
She grabbed the half-empty casket and set it down hard on the coffee table in front of him. "Take a good look and say that again.
"You hand it to another woman for the night, and to you, that means nothing. Is that what you're saying?"
Maxwell stared at her. His throat moved, but his voice stayed hard. "It's just jewelry."
"Just jewelry?" Arabella's eyes finally filled with tears. "Yes, jewelry doesn't feel anything. But I do. My dignity does. And so does this marriage."
Margaret shot to her feet. "Arabella, watch your tone."
Arabella turned sharply to her. "Then what tone should I use?" Her eyes were red as she faced Margaret. "Should I thank you instead?
"Thank you for remembering to call me back after all this, just so you could teach me how to save the Kingston family's image?"
Alma's face changed too. "Arabella, that's enough."
"No, it isn't." Arabella turned back to Maxwell, each word clear and sharp. "Who is that woman?"
Maxwell's mouth tightened. He didn't answer.
Arabella pressed, "You won't even tell me?"
Maxwell's answer was flat. "You don't need to know."
Arabella went completely still. Even now, he didn't think she deserved a straight answer.
She slowly straightened. In that moment, something in her seemed to go quiet.
The anger that had been burning in her all night vanished all at once, leaving behind only a cold, hollow silence.
Arabella looked at Maxwell and nodded. "Fine. Then I don't need to know."
Maxwell frowned. "Arabella."
She ignored him and headed upstairs.
Margaret jolted in surprise. "Where are you going?"
Arabella didn't stop. "To pack my things."
Maxwell's expression shifted. He caught up to her in a few strides and grabbed her wrist. "What are you doing now?"
Arabella lowered her eyes to his hand on her wrist.
That was Maxwell all over. He kept his distance whenever it suited him, but the moment she tried to leave, his first instinct was never to explain. It was to stop her.
The thought almost made her laugh. The next second, she shook off his hand. "Don't touch me."
Maxwell clearly hadn't expected her to shake him off with that much force. His hand hit the stair railing, and his expression hardened.
Arabella stood on the step and looked down at him. Her eyes were still red, but her voice was steady. "Maxwell, you let another woman wear that bridal set today and made a fool of me in front of everyone.
"Don't expect me to keep covering for you the way I used to."
With that, she turned and went upstairs.
Maxwell stayed where he was, watching Arabella disappear upstairs as his expression darkened by degrees.
Behind him, Margaret grew anxious. "Why are you still standing there? Go after her."
Alma set her cup down with a heavy thud. "Let her have her tantrum."
But Maxwell didn't move. He only stared at the door Arabella had slammed shut upstairs, his fingers slowly curling into a fist.
For the first time, it hit him that Arabella might not be throwing a tantrum this time.
Chapter 2 Don't Expect Me Back
After Arabella went upstairs, she locked the bedroom door behind her.
The lock clicked softly. It wasn't loud, but the living room downstairs fell silent at once.
Maxwell stood where he was, his expression dark enough to chill the room.
Margaret reacted first. She hurried to the foot of the stairs and called up in a strained voice, "Arabella, open the door. We can talk this through."
Upstairs, there was no response.
Alma sat on the sofa with a grim expression, a pearl bracelet resting at her wrist. "Let her throw her fit. With that temper of hers, she won't stop until she learns the hard way."
Margaret grew more anxious. "Mom, this isn't the time. Everyone downstairs is watching, and it's still trending. If she makes another scene now..."
"So what if she does?" Alma lifted her eyes. "Do you really think she's going anywhere?"
Maxwell stood at the foot of the stairs. At Alma's words, his brows drew together.
A second later, suitcase wheels rolled across the floor upstairs, followed by the sharp scrape of a drawer being yanked open.
Maxwell's expression changed, and he headed upstairs at once.
Margaret called after him, "Maxwell, calm her down first. Don't let her walk out at a time like this."
Maxwell didn't look back. He reached the bedroom door and knocked twice. "Open the door."
There was no answer, so he knocked again, his voice dropping lower. "Arabella."
When silence followed, Maxwell looked down at the doorknob, waited two seconds, and turned it.
The door opened. The lock hadn't fully caught, as if Arabella had never truly meant to keep him out.
He stepped inside and found the bedroom in complete disarray.
The closet doors stood open. Clothes were strewn across the bed, and every drawer of the vanity had been pulled out.
Arabella was crouched on the floor, rummaging through the hidden compartment in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. She didn't even look up as she asked, "Why are you in here?"
Maxwell's gaze fell on the pile beside her, and his expression darkened even further.
Her passport, ID, several bank cards, an old hard drive, and a black leather design notebook were spread out on the floor. They were the things that mattered to her most.
This wasn't a moment of anger or a dramatic gesture. She was truly preparing to leave.
Maxwell stood in the doorway. His throat worked once. "Why are you taking those?"
Arabella finally looked up at him. "You can't tell?"
"Arabella."
"Stop saying my name." She lowered her head and shoved the design notebook into her bag, moving fast. "I heard you the first time."
Maxwell crossed the room in a few strides, crouched beside her, and pressed a hand over her bag. "Put those back."
Arabella looked up at him. Her eyes were still red, but the hurt in them had turned to ice. "You still think you can tell me what to do?"
A sharp smile tugged at her lips. "Maxwell, do you get some kind of satisfaction from ordering me around?"
His jaw tightened. "I don't have the patience to argue with you right now."
"I do." Arabella tightened her grip on the bag and tried to pull it back. "You had plenty of patience for everything else tonight, didn't you?
"Lending out the bridal jewelry set, walking the red carpet and pushing the whole thing off the trending lists. So why are you standing here acting like I'm the one testing your patience?"
Maxwell's hand tightened over the bag. "I told you. We deal with the mess online first."
"And I told you," Arabella said, meeting his eyes, "I'm not dealing with it for you."
They stayed locked in place for several seconds before Maxwell was the first to let go. He straightened, his voice low and cold. "Are you really going to take this that far tonight?"
Arabella pulled the bag into her arms and rose to her feet. "So now I'm the one taking it too far?"
She tilted her head, her tone light but edged with sarcasm. "So that's what this is now? I'm taking it too far? Let me guess. I'm irrational, immature, or just making trouble for you."
Maxwell said nothing.
Arabella nodded as if she had expected no other response. "Of course. That's all the Kingston family has ever had to say about me."
With that, she turned to the vanity and pulled open the bottom drawer.
Maxwell stayed where he was until he saw her take out a brass key, old and worn bright at the head.
His brow twitched. "Why are you taking that?"
Arabella turned the key once between her fingers, her faint smile almost disappearing. "So you do remember."
Something in his expression changed. It was the key to the workshop Arabella had owned before they got married.
On their wedding day, she had tossed it to him and said she wouldn't need it anymore. She had asked him to keep it for her.
At some point, she had quietly taken it back and placed it in the vanity drawer herself, and he had never even noticed.
Now that she was taking it with her again, the meaning couldn't have been clearer.
Maxwell's voice went hoarse. "You're going back to the workshop?"
"Is that a problem?" she shot back.
"That place hasn't been opened in two years."
"I'd still rather stay there than spend another night in this house." Arabella's reply came too quickly, too lightly, with a sharp edge beneath it.
Maxwell's face sank completely. "Arabella."
"Am I wrong?" She looked up at him. "If I stay here any longer, you'll be handing out the last things this family is supposed to protect and still expect me to smile like nothing happened."
Maxwell's expression turned dangerously dark. "That's ridiculous."
"Ridiculous?" Arabella closed her hand around the key and headed for the door. "Fine. Let's see which one of us is being ridiculous."
She walked out of the bedroom, and Maxwell followed.
Downstairs, Margaret looked up and saw the bag in Arabella's hand. Her face changed at once. "What are you doing?"
Arabella ignored her and went straight to the living room. The rosewood jewelry casket was still on the coffee table, and she opened it again without hesitation.
Margaret tensed. "Arabella."
Arabella had already lifted the burgundy velvet lining and was searching underneath with quick, purposeful movements.
Maxwell had just come downstairs. The moment he saw what she was doing, something shifted in his eyes. "Don't touch that."
Arabella heard him, but she didn't stop. A second later, her hand froze. Beneath the burgundy velvet was an empty slot, not large, but impossible to miss.
Arabella stared at it as every trace of emotion slowly drained from her face.
Margaret stepped forward and tried to close the casket. "That's enough. What exactly are you trying to prove?"
Arabella looked up, her voice soft and cold. "What was in here?"
Margaret's expression stiffened. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" Arabella let out a quiet laugh. "Then why are you so nervous?"
Maxwell stepped forward and reached for the casket.
Arabella pressed it down with one hand and looked up at him. "So you knew something was missing too?"
Maxwell's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Arabella stared at the empty slot, and the memory hit her all at once.
The missing piece was the bridal hair pin. According to an old Kingston family custom, the piece hidden beneath the lowest layer of the bridal jewelry set was neither the main pin nor the hair fork.
It was a filigree bridal hair pin made to anchor the tiara, its delicate circular clasp echoing a wedding band and symbolizing commitment.
Back then, Alma had made a point of telling Arabella that this was the one piece that was never loaned out. Only the woman who had truly become a member of the Kingston family was allowed to wear it on her wedding day.
Arabella slowly lifted her head, and her eyes reddened little by little. "She wore that too?"
Margaret's composure finally cracked. "Arabella, stop this. It's just an old piece of jewelry."
"Just an old piece of jewelry?" Arabella laughed until her eyes were wet. "So I was never allowed to wear it because it was some precious family heirloom.
"But the moment some outsider puts it on, it's suddenly nothing more than an old trinket. Is that how this works?"
Margaret was left too stunned to speak.
Alma set her cup down with a sharp clink, her voice dropping. "Enough. Tonight is already messy enough. Do you have to drag the entire Kingston family into chaos?"
Arabella turned to her, eyes red. "Am I the one doing that?"
Alma stared at her as Arabella pointed at the casket, every word sharp and clear. "Did I put the Kingston family's bridal jewelry set on another woman's head?
"Did I make the entire internet watch the Kingston family turn into a joke? And after all that, you're still expecting me to stand here and act like none of this happened?"
The living room was so quiet that even the maids seemed to be holding their breath.
Standing off to the side, Maxwell watched Arabella with a grim expression. He had rarely seen her like this.
There were no tears and no hysterics. The hurt had cut so deep that every word she spoke came out calm and painfully clear.
Arabella looked at him and softly called his name. "Maxwell."
His throat worked once. "Put the casket down first."
Arabella seemed not to hear him. She only kept her eyes on him. "You said she only borrowed it for one night. Then tell me why the bridal hair pin is missing too."
Maxwell went silent, and that silence was worse than any answer.
After holding it in all night, Arabella finally felt the last of her restraint snap. She shut the jewelry casket with a sharp click. The sound wasn't loud, but it still made Maxwell flinch.
Arabella looked at him and forced a faint smile. "I get it."
She pushed the casket toward him. "I don't want this set anymore."
Margaret froze. "What did you just say?"
Arabella didn't look at her. "And I don't want to be Mrs. Kingston anymore."
The moment she said it, the entire living room fell silent.
Alma's hand clenched around the pearl bracelet at her wrist. The string snapped, and pearls scattered across the floor.
Margaret's face drained of color. "Arabella, have you lost your mind? Do you even realize what you're saying?"
"I do," Arabella cut in. "I've never been clearer than I am tonight."
She picked up her bag and reached for her suitcase.
Maxwell finally moved. He crossed the room in a few strides and grabbed her wrist, his voice low and hoarse. "Take that back."
Arabella lowered her eyes to his hand. All at once, the anger inside her seemed to drain away, leaving behind something close to bitter amusement. "Now you're scared?"
Maxwell stared at her, his eyes burning with restrained emotion. "Arabella."
"Don't say my name like that," she said softly. "Every time you do, all I can think about is how easily you said she only borrowed it."
His expression faltered as Arabella looked at him and slowly slipped her wrist from his grasp.
"Maxwell," she said, "you'd better stop me tonight. Because if you don't, don't expect me to ever come back."
With that, she pulled her suitcase toward the door without looking back.
Chapter 3 Don't Beg Her Back
By the time Arabella dragged her suitcase through the gates of the Kingston mansion, the wind in the courtyard had begun to pick up.
It was late, but the lights at the entrance still blazed against the night.
Arabella carried her bag in one hand and pulled her suitcase with the other, walking so fast it was as if slowing down for even a second might cost her the resolve to keep going.
Footsteps followed almost at once, quick and heavy. She knew who it was without turning around.
Maxwell caught up and grabbed the suitcase handle. "Arabella."
Her grip tightened. "Let go."
Maxwell had rushed after her, and his breathing had not quite settled, but he still kept his voice low. "How long are you planning to keep this up tonight?"
She turned to him and let out a sudden laugh. "You chased me all the way out here just to say that?"
He held her gaze, his expression grim. "Come back inside with me."
"Back inside?" Arabella tilted her head. "So your family can decide how to use me to clean up this mess?"
A muscle jumped in Maxwell's jaw. "Do you have to put it like that?"
"Yes." She nodded. "You all made it ugly first. I don't owe you a nicer version."
Maxwell's face went livid, but his hand stayed locked around the suitcase handle.
Arabella looked down at his grip, then let go without warning. Before he could react, she stepped closer, closing the distance between them.
She was close enough for him to catch the faint trace of sandalwood still lingering in her hair.
Arabella looked up at him, her voice light and cool. "Maxwell, are you really that afraid I'll leave tonight?"
His throat worked once. "I'm scared you'll do something crazy."
Arabella gave a short laugh. "Fine. Then watch."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she lifted her foot and kicked the suitcase hard.
The suitcase shot forward and slammed into the courtyard gate with a bang, startling the staff on night duty near the entrance.
Maxwell's voice turned sharp. "Arabella."
Her eyes were still red, but her smile was almost bright. "There. That's crazy."
She turned toward the gate, but Maxwell strode after her and yanked her back.
Arabella's shoulder jerked, and she crashed into his chest. She instinctively tried to push him away, but Maxwell tightened his arms around her, holding her firmly in place.
"Have you had enough?" His voice was low, the anger in it unmistakable. Pressed close against her, his chest rose and fell against hers.
Arabella went still in his arms for a split second. Then her anger surged even hotter. "Let me go."
She raised a hand and clawed at him, her nails scraping down the side of his neck and leaving three vivid red marks.
Maxwell drew in a sharp breath but didn't loosen his hold. "Do that again."
Arabella looked up at him, so angry that tears burned in her eyes. "What, are you going to throw me over your shoulder and drag me back inside?"
Maxwell said nothing, and that silence was answer enough.
Arabella let out a disbelieving laugh. "You actually would."
Maxwell held her gaze, barely keeping his frustration in check. "I'm not letting you walk away like this tonight."
"And what gives you the right?"
"You're not thinking clearly."
Arabella nodded slowly and looked at him. "Right. I'm not thinking clearly. You're the clearheaded one here.
"Clearheaded enough to lend out the bridal jewelry set, to let your family tell me to keep my mouth shut, and now to stand here blocking my way."
Arabella stopped there, her gaze dropping to his collar as if something had caught her eye. The scratches on his neck had already started to show, red and stark against his skin.
She stared at the marks for two seconds before the corner of her mouth lifted slightly. "You look better like this than you did in the living room."
Maxwell's brows drew together. "What are you getting at now?"
She lifted a hand and lightly touched the red marks on his neck. "At least you look alive."
Maxwell's breath caught, and the hand around her arm went rigid.
For a moment, the anger in Arabella's chest twisted into something bitter and sharp.
She used to tease him like this, standing close on purpose, speaking near his ear on purpose, just to watch him fight to keep control.
But that was before, and the thought wiped the smile from her face. She raised both hands and shoved him away.
Maxwell hadn't braced himself this time, so he stumbled back half a step. Meanwhile, Arabella seized the chance and grabbed her suitcase again.
He was about to stop her when his phone rang. The night was too quiet, and the ringtone cut through it sharply. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted.
Arabella saw the name too. Daisy.
She stared at it, and the fight seemed to drain out of her all at once. When she looked up again, she was suddenly, unnervingly calm.
Maxwell didn't answer. The call ended, then came in again almost immediately. Still Daisy.
The corner of Arabella's mouth lifted slightly. "Answer it."
He looked at her. "Come back inside with me first."
She nodded, her voice very soft. "Answer it first. Then I'll know who you really came out here for tonight."
Something shifted in his eyes, but before he could speak, the phone rang for the third time. Daisy's name lit up again, and the silence between them tightened.
Arabella looked at him, her eyes reddening again. "Go ahead. Don't keep her waiting."
Maxwell swallowed. His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before he finally answered.
Arabella couldn't make out what he was saying. She only saw him turn away, his voice dropping, his tone unexpectedly gentle.
At that moment, the last bit of fight drained out of her.
Only moments ago, Maxwell had been trying to stop her from leaving. Now he was answering that woman's call right in front of her.
He kept telling her things weren't as bad as she thought, but every time it mattered, he chose someone else.
Arabella had seen enough. She picked up her suitcase and turned away.
Maxwell heard the suitcase wheels rolling and spun around. "Arabella."
She didn't look back. She pulled the car door open and got in.
Maxwell caught up in two strides, his phone still in one hand as he braced the other against the door. "Get out."
Arabella looked at him, exhaustion settling over her in a heavy wave. For the first time, she didn't argue or snap back. She only asked, "Maxwell, do you really think I can't tell who you're choosing?"
Maxwell's breath caught.
She didn't wait for an answer before pulling the door shut.
The door slammed into place, forcing Maxwell to jerk his hand away. His expression went cold.
As the car pulled away, Arabella looked in the rearview mirror and saw Maxwell standing there, phone in hand, the call still connected.
*****
Half an hour later, the car stopped at the entrance to an old street. Arabella's workshop occupied the second floor of a building.
The storefront below looked worn down. Its sign was dark, and beyond the glass door, the interior was pitch-black.
Arabella dragged her suitcase upstairs and stopped at the door, rummaging through her bag for the key.
It took her a while to find the brass one, but the moment she slid it into the lock, the door gave way. It hadn't been locked after all.
She froze for a beat, then pushed the door open and stepped inside, flicking on the lights.
The place was cleaner than she had expected. Someone had mopped the floor, wiped down the tables, and even folded the dust cover on the workbench neatly.
Brooke rushed out from the back room, her hair a mess and a puffer jacket thrown over her pajamas. Her eyes widened when she saw Arabella's suitcase. "Arabella, you really came?"
Arabella set the suitcase down, her voice a little hoarse. "You cleaned all this?"
Brooke nodded right away, then quickly shook her head. "I did half of it. Blake came by this afternoon and handled the rest. I was afraid you wouldn't show up tonight."
As she spoke, Brooke seemed to remember something, and the color drained from her face. "Oh no. I forgot to tell you first."
Arabella glanced at her. "Tell me what?"
Brooke swallowed and carefully handed her phone over. "Kingston Group has already started putting out their version of the story."
Her voice dropped lower. "Tomorrow morning, they're going to release the same statement across the board, saying the bridal jewelry set wasn't loaned out privately. They're calling it a treasure loan exhibition for Kingston Jewelry."
Arabella froze as she stared at the screen.
Brooke added carefully, "They're also claiming all restoration and design rights belong to Kingston Group."
The room sank into silence.
Arabella stayed where she was for a long moment before finally reaching out and taking the phone. She read the lines on the screen twice, then suddenly laughed. "That's smart."
Brooke felt a chill run through her. "Arabella, don't smile like that. You're freaking me out."
Arabella looked up, her eyes almost too bright. "What are you scared of?"
She set the phone down and slowly rolled up her sleeves. "If they want to call it Kingston's work, then tomorrow, I'll make sure they have nothing left to exhibit."
Chapter 4 Her Name
The workshop was quiet. As the lights came on, the familiar smell of metal, wood, and old velvet washed over Arabella, making her eyes sting before she could stop it.
She hadn't been back in two years.
The display case facing the street was still there. To the right stood the restoration bench, and by the window was the row of old wooden shelves she had picked out herself.
Even the green ceramic vase in the corner, the one she had always hated and kept meaning to replace, hadn't changed.
Brooke stood aside, watching her carefully. "Arabella?"
Arabella pushed her suitcase beside the table and came back to herself. "Go on."
Brooke quickly handed her phone over. "Kingston Group just got its story straight. They're saying the bridal jewelry set wasn't lent out privately. It was a last-minute treasure loan exhibition under Kingston Jewelry."
Arabella looked down at the screen. The press release was slick and carefully worded: Kingston Group's cultural heritage project had made its debut at the charity gala.
According to the statement, the antique bridal jewelry set was making its first public appearance after being restored by Kingston Jewelry.
The woman wearing it was described as a business partner's family member, while Maxwell had merely accompanied her to the event.
Arabella's gaze stopped on the line where Kingston took credit for the restoration, and she laughed out loud.
A chill ran down Brooke's back. She knew that laugh too well.
If Arabella cried or cursed, there was still room to fix things. But when she laughed like this, it usually meant the problem was about to get much bigger.
"Arabella," Brooke asked carefully, "what are we going to do?"
Arabella set the phone down and slowly rolled up her sleeves. "They want to take credit for my work, right?"
She walked to the restoration bench, pulled open the bottom drawer, took out a brown paper bag, and slapped it onto the table. "Then let them try. If they actually pull it off, I'll admit I lost."
Brooke froze. "What's that?"
Arabella didn't look up as she pulled the contents from the bag one by one.
There were photos from before the restoration, enlarged shots of cracked diamond settings, welding records for broken filigree points, and sketches for remounting the cracked ruby.
There was also the restoration log Arabella had written herself. Page after page was filled with her sharp, angular handwriting, the strokes almost carved into the paper.
Brooke's eyes lit up the longer she looked. "You kept all this?"
Arabella gave a cold laugh. "I restore things. I don't work for free. I keep records of who touched what, what got changed, and who might try to steal the credit later."
As she spoke, Arabella opened the metal cabinet beside her and pulled a hard drive from the very back. "The supervision video is here too.
"Opening the case, taking the pieces apart, remounting the stones, putting the finished set back together. It's all on here."
Brooke drew in a sharp breath. "Then Kingston Group is screwed this time, right?"
Arabella looked up at her. "That depends on whether they know when to stop."
The moment she said that, the sharp, uneven click of high heels hurried down the hall outside the workshop.
Brooke turned first, and her expression tightened when she saw the woman at the door.
It was Samantha Reed, the project director of Kingston Jewelry.
Samantha stepped inside, still catching her breath, and forced out a smile. "Ms. Wayne, I'm sorry to come by so late."
Arabella didn't even lift her head, still sorting through her papers. "Then don't."
Samantha's smile stiffened. She had known Arabella wouldn't be easy to deal with, but she hadn't expected to be shut down before she could even begin.
Samantha steadied herself and continued, "Ms. Wayne, Mr. Kingston wants to get the public reaction under control first. As for the restoration credit and project ownership, we can sit down tomorrow and talk it through."
Arabella finally looked up. "Talk it through?"
"Yes." Samantha seized the chance at once. "This has already blown up, and everyone is watching. It would be difficult for Kingston Group toâ"
"Difficult to what?" Arabella cut her off. "Say I did the restoration, or admit the bridal jewelry set was privately lent to another woman?"
Samantha's face went pale. "Ms. Wayne, spinning this now won't do anyone any good."
Arabella stared at her, then suddenly smiled. "There it is again. Do all of you love that line? Won't do anyone any good."
She braced one hand on the restoration bench and stood, then walked toward Samantha step by step. Earlier, her eyes had been red from holding back tears. Now they were startlingly bright.
Arabella went on, "Tell me, then. When that woman stood in the spotlight last night wearing the bridal jewelry set, how exactly was that good for me?
"When the Kingstons called me back and told me to play along with their cleanup, was that supposed to be good for me too?
"And when Maxwell said she had only borrowed it for one night, was I supposed to thank him for that?"
Samantha opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Arabella nodded. "So none of this was for my sake. Then don't stand here lecturing me about what's best for everyone."
The workshop went dead quiet.
Samantha had come in ready to throw her weight around as project director, but Arabella had shut her down in three sentences.
Samantha gritted her teeth and changed tactics. "Ms. Wayne, you've been tied to the Kingston Group for years. You know how this works.
"If you put out a statement saying the bridal jewelry set was only on loan for the project, the story dies down. It protects your reputation too."
Arabella stared at her as the expression on her face slowly hardened. "Protects my reputation?"
Without warning, she grabbed a pair of fine tweezers from the restoration bench and slapped them down beside Samantha's hand.
The sound wasn't loud, but Samantha still flinched.
Arabella leaned in, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous calm. "Go back and tell Kingston Group this. They can lend out the bridal jewelry set. They can make fools of themselves all they want.
"But they don't get to use my name."
Samantha's face went completely white. She seemed about to say something, but her phone rang just then.
Arabella caught Maxwell's name on the screen at a glance.
Samantha looked like she had found a lifeline and answered quickly, "Mr. Kingston, I'm already at the workshop, but Ms. Wayneâ"
Before she could continue, Maxwell's low, heavy voice came through the phone. "Put her on."
His voice carried clearly through the quiet workshop. Samantha stiffened, then quickly handed the phone to Arabella.
Arabella took it and turned toward the window. "Say it."
After a moment of silence, Maxwell spoke again, his voice low and tight. "What are you doing?"
Arabella looked at her slightly disheveled reflection in the glass and smiled. "You're asking me that now, Mr. Kingston?"
"I'm asking what you're doing."
"Protecting myself," Arabella said. "And demanding an explanation."
"Arabella." Maxwell's voice went flat. "Don't make this bigger than it has to be."
Arabella almost laughed. "Maxwell, is that really all you have to say?"
His breathing grew heavier on the other end of the line.
Arabella leaned against the window and looked down at the empty street below, her voice steady. "You lent the bridal jewelry set to someone else, and I was supposed to stay quiet.
"Your family tried to erase my credit, and I was supposed to stay quiet.
"Now Kingston Group is using my restoration work to clean up your mess, and you still want me to stay quiet. Your family's reputation matters, but mine doesn't?"
He fell silent for a moment before he said, "Whatever you want, I'll make it up to you later."
Arabella laughed the second she heard it.
Listening from the side, Brooke felt her scalp prickle. She knew that was exactly the kind of line that would set Arabella off.
Sure enough, Arabella asked right after, "Make it up to me with what? Money? A project? Or are you going to give me back the respect Mrs. Kingston was supposed to have?"
Her eyes slowly reddened, but her voice only grew softer. "Maxwell, I don't even want that bridal jewelry set anymore. What could you possibly give me now?"
The silence on the other end told Arabella she had cornered him. Maxwell was exactly that kind of man: he could compensate her for anything, but he would never apologize.
Arabella closed her eyes for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was cold. "If you're that desperate to make this go away, come handle it yourself. Don't send someone else to me."
With that, she hung up.
Samantha stood nearby, her expression frozen. "Ms. Wayne, Mr. Kingston was only..."
Arabella tossed the phone back to her. "Get out."
Samantha's face flushed, then went pale. After all her years at Kingston Group, no one had ever thrown her out so bluntly.
But looking at Arabella now, she truly didn't dare stay. In the end, she could only leave her with one last warning. "Ms. Wayne, you'd better think this through. If you take this too far, it won't end well for you."
Arabella heard her but didn't even turn around. "Too far?"
She picked up the hard drive from the restoration bench and turned it over in her hand. "If Kingston Group isn't afraid of taking things that far, then tell them to go ahead and post that statement tomorrow."
After Samantha left, the workshop finally went quiet again.
Brooke hurried over and lowered her voice. "Arabella, are we really going up against Kingston Group?"
Arabella kept organizing the restoration log and original drafts, laying them out one by one. "We're not the ones picking a fight. They're the ones trying to take what isn't theirs."
As she spoke, she pulled an old folder from the back of the drawer. Inside was the restoration authorization form Alma had filled out by hand.
At the bottom, Alma had added one extra note: [This bridal jewelry set is an old Kingston family wedding piece and is not for public display.]
Brooke's eyes lit up. "Arabella, if we release this, Kingston Group's whole treasure loan exhibition claim will become a joke."
Arabella pinched the paper between her fingers. 'A joke,' she thought. 'I've seen enough of those since last night. Now it's the Kingston family's turn.'
She was about to speak when a car braked hard outside. A moment later, quick, heavy footsteps came up the stairs.
Brooke looked up, her expression changing at once. "Arabella..."
Arabella had already recognized those footsteps. Maxwell had come after her.
A second later, the workshop door was pushed open from outside.
Maxwell stood in the doorway in his black coat, still cold from the night air. The wind had ruffled his hair, and his expression was grim.
His eyes swept over the restoration diagrams, the authorization form, the hard drive, and the photos spread across the table before settling on Arabella.
She stood under the light with her sleeves rolled to her elbows, a faint trace of gold dust still clinging to her fingertips.
Maxwell looked at her for a long moment without saying anything.
In the end, Arabella spoke first. She looked at him with a faint, humorless smile. "Good. You're here."
She picked up the restoration authorization form and slapped it down in front of him. "Maxwell, tell me the truth.
"Did the Kingstons lend this bridal jewelry set to another woman, or were you planning to use my work and cut me out completely?"
Chapter 5 Not His to Erase
The workshop was silent. Maxwell stood in the doorway, the cold from outside still clinging to his coat.
After slapping the restoration authorization form down in front of him, Arabella fell silent.
Maxwell looked down at the form. Alma's signature was on it, along with a line stating that the bridal jewelry set had never been meant for public display. The more he read, the darker his expression became.
Arabella watched him for a moment, then smiled. "Go on. Isn't taking control what you do best, Mr. Kingston?"
Maxwell looked up at her, his voice low and tight. "Put these away for now."
Arabella looked as if she'd heard a joke. "Put them away?"
"Yes." He stepped closer, his gaze moving over the restoration logs, photos, hard drive, and authorization form on the table. "This isn't the time to put all of this on display."
"Then when is?" Arabella folded her arms and looked at him. "After Kingston Group pushes that treasure loan exhibition story until everyone treats it as fact?"
Maxwell's brows drew tight. "Arabella."
"Don't." Arabella cut him off, her tone still light. "The way you say my name now only reminds me how easily you said it had been borrowed."
Maxwell's jaw tightened, the irritation in his eyes barely held in check.
Brooke stood off to the side, barely daring to breathe. For the first time, Arabella and Maxwell didn't look like a couple to her. They looked like opponents locked in a standoff.
Maxwell stared at Arabella for several seconds before he finally flattened his voice. "I'll have Kingston Group revise the statement."
Arabella didn't even blink. "Revise it how?"
"We'll add your restoration credit."
Arabella let out a laugh at the word. "Add it back now? Maxwell, do you really think you can fix everything after the damage is already done?"
His expression darkened. "Arabella, I'm trying to solve the problem."
"No." Arabella met his eyes. "You're trying to keep the damage under control."
She took a step forward and tapped the hard drive. "The Kingston family used my work to save face. Now you want to slip my name back in and pretend that fixes it.
"So if that woman is all over the internet tomorrow wearing my wedding band, are you going to give me a replacement and expect me to smile?"
Maxwell stared at her, his eyes turning colder. "Do you have to talk like this?"
Arabella nodded. "If I don't, will you listen?"
Maxwell fell silent for a moment, forcing down the anger that had been building all night.
Arabella had pushed him again and again, at the Kingston mansion, at the gate, downstairs, and over the phone. Now, here in her own workshop, every word hit harder.
He stared at her for two seconds, then suddenly raised a hand and pressed the authorization form back onto the table. "What exactly do you want?"
That was the question Arabella had been waiting for.
A faint smile touched her lips. "What I want is simple. First, Kingston Group withdraws that treasure loan exhibition line immediately.
"Second, whoever wore the bridal jewelry set tonight needs to come forward and explain herself. Third..."
Arabella lifted her eyes to Maxwell. Her voice softened slightly, but it cut even deeper. "Maxwell, I want an apology from you. In person."
The room went still. Brooke didn't even dare blink.
Maxwell looked at Arabella as if she had said something absurd. "Apologize?"
"Yes." Arabella nodded. "Is the word new to you?"
Maxwell suddenly let out a cold laugh, faint enough to be quiet but sharp enough to chill the room. "Arabella, aren't you giving yourself a little too much credit?"
Brooke's heart sank. The words had barely left Maxwell's mouth before she knew he had made things worse.
Arabella's expression froze for only a second. Then she nodded, actually smiling. "Too much credit?"
She turned back to the restoration bench, picked up her phone, and unlocked it.
Maxwell's eyes darkened. "What are you doing?"
"Letting you see exactly what my name is worth." As soon as she said it, she tapped a contact and made the call.
The call was answered quickly. A mature woman's tired voice came through. "Ms. Wayne?"
Maxwell's face changed at once. It was Laura Hayes, the chief planner for that night's charity gala.
Arabella leaned against the restoration bench, her voice softening until she almost sounded like someone else. "Ms. Hayes, I hope I'm not catching you too late."
Laura laughed lightly. "Now you remember me? You skipped the gala tonight and still handed me a trending headache."
Arabella smiled too. "That's exactly why I'm calling."
Maxwell crossed the distance in two strides and reached for her phone.
Arabella was quicker. She turned sideways to avoid his hand, her eyes locked on him as she kept speaking into the phone. "The Kingston bridal jewelry set tonight was not part of any Kingston Jewelry cultural loan.
"If anyone uses that line tomorrow, please help clarify it on your end so I don't have to issue a statement myself."
Laura was clearly stunned. "It wasn't a loan exhibition?"
"No," Arabella said evenly. "It was lent out privately. I handled the restoration, and I have the authorization form and the supervision video."
The moment she said that, Maxwell's expression went completely dark.
Laura knew exactly how these circles worked and understood the problem the second she heard it. Her voice dropped at once. "Ms. Wayne, are you planning to take on Kingston Group?"
Arabella looked up at Maxwell, the corner of her mouth curving faintly. "I'm not the one who started this. Someone else decided my name was fair game."
Maxwell stared at her, barely holding back the anger in his eyes. The moment Arabella hung up, he grabbed her wrist. "Are you finished?"
Arabella glanced down at his hand, then actually smiled. "That's the third time you've asked me that tonight. Maxwell, do you know how to do anything besides grab my wrist?"
His temple pulsed. "Are you really taking this outside the family?"
"Your family took the bridal jewelry set outside first."
"I'm talking about the industry."
"Even better." Arabella lifted her eyes to him. "Isn't reputation what the Kingston family cares about most?"
Her eyes were still red, but her expression was sharp and alive.
Maxwell stared at her, his breathing suddenly heavier. For the first time that night, he realized Arabella wasn't lashing out blindly. She knew exactly where to strike, and every move hit him and the Kingston family where it hurt.
The accuracy of her attack only made him more irritated, as if she were dragging him off balance one word at a time.
Maxwell's grip tightened slightly, and his voice turned hoarse. "Give me the phone."
Arabella lifted the phone right in front of his eyes and gave it a small shake. "Go ahead. Take it from me."
Maxwell stared at her. There was a spark of defiance in her eyes, just like before she married him.
Back then, she had stood in the Kingston restoration room with a chipped vintage locket in her hand and looked at him the same way.
At the time, he had thought Arabella looked gentle, but there was nothing weak about her.
After three years of marriage, he had almost forgotten she had always been this way. Those edges had never disappeared. She had only kept them hidden.
Maxwell's jaw tightened, but in the end, he let go.
Arabella looked at him and suddenly felt there was no point in arguing anymore.
He was always like this. The uglier things got, the more he shut down. He wouldn't explain, wouldn't admit he was wrong, and wouldn't let anyone else have the last word.
The smile on Arabella's face faded a little. "What, you can't take it anymore?"
Maxwell looked at her, his voice very low. "Arabella, if you really drag this out into the open, it won't do you any good either."
"Who says it won't?" she asked. "At least I'll feel better."
Maxwell stared at her, his voice turning cold. "Do you think I've let you go this far because I can't do anything to you?"
Brooke went rigid the second she heard that. Maxwell had just said the worst possible thing.
Arabella's eyes went cold at once.
"Do anything to me?" She slowly nodded. "Maxwell, there it is. You finally said the quiet part out loud. Isn't that what you've thought all along?
"When I speak up, you shut me down. When I leave, you stop me. Now that I'm exposing the Kingston family, you're ready to come after me."
Maxwell frowned. "That's not what I meant."
"It is," Arabella cut him off, her voice quiet but steady. "Maxwell, from the beginning, you were never trying to solve the problem. You were trying to solve me."
Maxwell's expression shifted at that.
Arabella stared at him. The emotion in her reddened eyes slowly drained away until only cold calm remained.
She suddenly didn't want to waste another word on him. She turned and dialed a second number.
This time, Maxwell stepped forward for real and reached for the phone.
Arabella lifted the phone out of his reach, grabbed a steel ruler from the bench with her other hand, and held it between them. "Don't touch my phone."
Maxwell stopped short.
The steel ruler wasn't sharp, but Arabella's grip was steady. She wasn't bluffing.
Watching from the sidelines, Brooke felt her heart nearly jump out of her chest.
Arabella didn't look at him. She spoke directly into the phone. "Mr. Parker, it's Arabella Wayne."
The person on the other end was Ryan Parker, the editor-in-chief of the jewelry industry magazine Lumen Arcana.
Maxwell's face darkened even further. He finally understood that Arabella wasn't bluffing. She really meant to drag this into the jewelry industry.
Ryan laughed almost immediately. "Ms. Wayne? I was just about to contact you. The bridal jewelry set Kingston Group showed tonightâ"
"It wasn't a loan exhibition," Arabella cut in. "If Kingston Group doesn't withdraw that line before tomorrow morning, I'll send you the restoration drafts and authorization record. You can start thinking about the headline."
She paused, then raised her eyes to Maxwell and spoke each word clearly. "Something like: Who Really Borrowed the Kingston Bridal Jewelry Set?"
Ryan fell silent for a moment as the significance of her words sank in. Then he let out a soft breath, excitement unmistakable in his voice. "Ms. Wayne, you're handing me a major story."
Arabella's voice stayed calm. "Kingston Group handed it over first."
After she hung up, the workshop went completely quiet.
Maxwell stared at her, something dangerous settling in his eyes. "Arabella."
Arabella looked at him and suddenly felt tired. "What else do you want to say?"
Maxwell's lips moved. In the end, he still said the one thing he shouldn't have. "Don't regret this."
Arabella froze for a moment. Then, for the first time, she let out a real laugh. "Regret what?"
She looked at him, a faint mockery finally surfacing in her eyes. "Regret restoring that bridal jewelry set too beautifully three months ago? Or regret marrying you three years ago?"
Maxwell's face stiffened at once.
Arabella stared at him and slowly placed the steel ruler back on the restoration bench. Her voice softened. "Maxwell, your biggest problem tonight isn't lending out the bridal jewelry set. It isn't even trying to erase my credit.
"It's that even now, you still think I'll regret fighting back."
She turned, walked to the door, and pulled it open. "Get out."
Maxwell didn't move.
Arabella gave a small nod. "Fine."
She reached for the breaker switch on the wall. "If you won't leave, I'll turn off the lights and call the police. I can tell them the CEO of Kingston Group broke into my workshop in the middle of the night."
Maxwell stared at her, the anger in his eyes finally breaking through. A few seconds later, his mouth twisted as if she had actually made him laugh. "Arabella, you've really got nerve."
Arabella nodded. "So do you."
He looked at her for two seconds before finally turning toward the door.
When he reached the doorway, he stopped without looking back. "Close that door on me tonight, and don't come begging later."
Arabella had heard that tone too many times before. Cold, proud, always above her, as if she would be the one to come back first.
She didn't so much as lift an eyelid. "Don't worry. You can learn how to beg first."
Maxwell walked out, and the door shut behind him with a thud.
Brooke held her breath until Maxwell was gone, then finally dared to let it out. "Arabella."
Arabella didn't answer. She stood by the door with one hand still on the knob, unmoving for a long time.
Brooke carefully moved closer, but before she could say anything, her phone buzzed. It was a Twitter notification from an account she had alerts on.
Brooke looked down, and her expression changed at once. "Arabella. That woman... she posted something."
Arabella slowly turned her head. "What did she post?"
Brooke handed her the phone, her throat tight.
On the screen was a new photo. Backstage at the gala, the woman was lowering her head as she adjusted the bridal diamond tiara. The warm lighting made the photo look like a movie still.
The caption was only one sentence: [Thank you, Mr. Kingston, and thank you to the Kingston family for letting me be part of something so special.]
Arabella stared at the line, her eyes narrowing. A few seconds later, she suddenly laughed. "Great. I hadn't even gone looking for her, and she came to me first."
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