The morning light spilled across the marble floor like spilled gold.
Arabella stood in front of the mirror, brushing concealer under her eyes. The sleepless nights were catching up with her. Her skin was paler. Her eyes, duller. But she forced the brush across her cheekbones anyway, painting on the version of herself Sebastian used to admire...the flawless, composed wife who knew her place.
When he walked into the room behind her, freshly shaved and dressed in one of his crisp charcoal suits, she didn't flinch.
"Good morning," she said.
He grunted something that could have been a greeting.
She turned, arms crossed loosely. "Sebastian, we need to talk."
He didn't stop buttoning his cuff. "I'm already late."
"You're always late. For me."
That made him pause.
Arabella's heart pounded. Don't stop now. Say it. Say everything.
She stepped forward. "I know about Juliette. I know she's not your assistant. I know what she is to you."
Finally, his head turned.
"And yet, you're still here," he said coolly.
The words knocked the air out of her chest.
She blinked, stunned. "So… you're not even going to deny it?"
"Would you believe me if I did?"
"I might," she whispered. "If you looked me in the eye."
He walked past her.
"That's it?" she said, voice cracking. "You don't even care how this is killing me?"
"You married me, Arabella. Not the other way around."
Her jaw trembled.
He stopped at the door, not turning. "If you're so miserable, you can leave."
He said it like it was a dare. A test.
Her hand gripped the edge of the vanity. "Maybe I will."
He left.
Later That Afternoon
Arabella was packing.
One bag. Just essentials. Passport, wallet, and the few jewelry pieces that weren't locked in his vault.
She was finally doing it.
Chloe had sent her the number of a divorce attorney. She had booked a hotel room under a fake name.
Her heart raced as she pulled a sweater from the closet...Sebastian's sweater. She paused, ran her fingers along the sleeve. She remembered the first time she wore it. On their honeymoon in Santorini. He had wrapped it around her after she got cold watching the stars.
"Keep it," he'd said. "You make it look better than I ever could."
Tears welled in her eyes.
No. Don't break now.
She zipped the suitcase shut.
Then her phone pinged.
Sebastian:Don't go anywhere. I need to talk to you. Alone. Now.
She froze.
Was it… remorse?
Was he finally about to apologize?
She stared at the door. Her suitcase sat beside it like a declaration.
Twenty Minutes Later
He walked in without knocking.
She stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around herself, suitcase in plain sight.
"I'm leaving," she said first. Voice steady.
His gaze flicked to the suitcase. Then back to her.
"I just came from the hospital," he said flatly.
Arabella blinked. "What?"
"Juliette collapsed at brunch. They think it might be a miscarriage."
Her blood went cold. "She's… pregnant?"
Sebastian ran a hand over his face. "I didn't want to tell you like this."
Arabella's vision blurred.
Pregnant?
He got her pregnant?
She stumbled back a step.
"She's lying," she whispered. "She's doing this to trap you."
He didn't deny it.
Instead, he said, "I need to be there for her."
A deep, bitter laugh escaped Arabella's lips. "So, what are you doing here?"
Sebastian met her gaze for the first time in days.
"Because I need you to keep it quiet. The press can't know. Not yet. You understand the damage it could do to my image."
There it was.
Not guilt.
Not love.
Self-preservation.
Arabella nodded numbly. "I'll stay quiet."
He moved closer, as if to thank her, but she stepped back.
"I'm not staying for you," she snapped. "I'm staying for me. I want to leave when I'm ready, not because you permitted me."
He hesitated. For the first time, something shifted in his expression.
Fear?
Respect?
No...Control.
"I'll send someone for the suitcase," he said coldly, then left without another word.
That Night
Arabella sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the engagement ring on her finger.
She slid it off.
Held it up to the light.
It was beautiful. Flawless. Worth a fortune.
And completely meaningless.
Just as she was about to toss it into the drawer… the door opened.
Her heart raced. He came back. He changed his mind. He...
It was the housekeeper.
Not him.
Arabella smiled bitterly.
Of course, it wasn't him.