Arabella's POV

I had barely stepped out of the car when Nathaniel came rushing through the front doors of the estate.

The panic on his face was so unguarded that even the careful mask he hurriedly assembled could not conceal it completely. His gaze darted first to the car parked outside, then to me, and although visible relief softened his features, I could still see the alarm lingering beneath it.

“Arabella,” he called as he strode toward me. “Where have you been? I was worried.”

Worried.

The word almost made me laugh.

The bitterness of it sat heavy on my tongue. Perhaps another woman might have been moved by his concern, but after everything I now knew, his worry felt hollow, another performance polished by years of practice.

I forced a gentle smile.

“I went out to prepare something for next week.”

Nathaniel slowed.

“For next week?”

I tilted my head and watched him carefully.

“For our anniversary.”

For the briefest second, his expression emptied.

“Our anniversary?”

“Yes,” I said softly. “Our wedding anniversary.”

I held his gaze just long enough to make sure he understood exactly what I meant.

“Did you forget?”

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair.

“No, of course not,” he said quickly, giving a strained laugh. “How could I forget something that important? I’ve just been overwhelmed with work lately. You know how things have been.”

Liar.

I lowered my gaze and nodded as though satisfied.

“Well, I wanted to surprise you, so I won’t spoil it. You’ll see soon enough.”

His smile returned, though it lacked ease.

“I’m looking forward to it. You should have called me. I would’ve gone with you.”

“It’s alright,” I said quietly. “You’ve been busy. I didn’t want to burden you.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

Guilt.

Or perhaps discomfort.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my cheek, but the gesture felt lifeless. His touch, once capable of grounding me, now felt colder than marble.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“So am I,” I lied.

I walked past him and entered the house.

Behind me, I heard the quiet breath he released.

Relief.

He believed I had seen nothing.

He believed his secrets remained buried.

If only he knew.

I climbed the stairs and entered our bedroom.

The moment I crossed the threshold, nausea rose in my throat.

This room had once felt sacred to me. It held memories of whispered promises, quiet laughter, and nights when I still believed love could survive anything.

Now every memory felt contaminated.

Every surface felt stained by betrayal.

The door opened behind me.

I turned, expecting Nathaniel.

Instead, Genevieve stood there.

She leaned against the doorway with infuriating ease, her lips curved into a smug smile while amusement gleamed in her eyes. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who believed victory had already been secured and had come only to savor the humiliation of the woman she defeated.

“You saw us, didn’t you?” she asked.

I kept my face blank.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Genevieve laughed softly and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

“Oh, Arabella,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t insult me by pretending. I saw you standing there.”

I said nothing.

She moved closer, studying me with deliberate cruelty.

“You should’ve stayed longer,” she continued. “You might have learned something useful.”

I gave a careless shrug.

“If that’s all, you should leave. Nathaniel is probably waiting downstairs, and I’d like to rest.”

Her expression shifted.

That was not the reaction she expected.

For a brief moment, uncertainty cracked her confidence before she recovered.

“Very well,” she said lightly. “I suppose I should return and continue where we left off. Feel free to watch next time.”

She turned and left.

The moment the door closed, I took out my phone and sent a secure message to Matteo.

Phase one is complete. Be ready.

His response came almost instantly.

A single silver heart appeared on the screen.

Despite myself, a cold smile touched my lips.

Over the next two days, Nathaniel rarely left my side.

He hovered constantly, watching me with quiet vigilance, as though some instinct warned him that something had shifted between us even if he could not identify what. His suspicion made every step of my preparation more difficult, and by the second day, even my patience had begun to fray.

If instinct would not draw him away, jealousy would.

Using an encrypted number, I sent Genevieve a carefully crafted message.

It was cruel by design.

Nathaniel seems tired of you. He barely leaves my side now. Keep lying to yourself if you want, but he’s still mine.

I knew exactly what that message would provoke.

Genevieve’s pride would never allow her to believe she was losing control.

Before long, Nathaniel’s phone began lighting up repeatedly.

Calls.

Messages.

Repeated attempts from Genevieve.

At first, to my annoyance, he ignored every one of them.

But eventually, just as I began to worry the bait had failed, he excused himself and stepped outside to answer.

When he returned several minutes later, his expression had turned solemn.

“My love,” he said gently, “something urgent has come up overseas. I need to leave tonight.”

I lowered my eyes and feigned disappointment.

“For how long?”

“Three days.”

I let silence hang between us before answering.

“Our anniversary is in four days.”

Guilt flashed across his face.

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I promise I’ll be back before then. I wouldn’t miss it.”

He kissed my forehead.

Inside, triumph surged through me.

Three days.

I had expected only a few hours.

Instead, he had given me exactly what I needed.

Perfect.

The next three days passed in relentless preparation.

Every document was finalized.

Every legal arrangement confirmed.

Every step of the plan secured.

Ironically, Genevieve made everything easier.

Whenever doubt threatened to weaken my resolve, she sent fresh photos and videos of herself with Nathaniel, convinced each new image would deepen my suffering.

Instead, each one hardened my resolve.

I saved every file.

Soon, she would regret sending any of them.

At last, our anniversary arrived.

It was also the day Nathaniel was due to return.

I stood alone in the grand foyer while my thoughts raced faster than my heartbeat. Slowly, I picked up my phone and sent Nathaniel one final message.

Happy anniversary. I left your gift in the grand hall.

Then I placed the signed divorce papers on the table.

Beside them, I arranged the evidence of his betrayal: the files from his study, the videos I had recorded, and the photos Genevieve had so eagerly handed me herself.

After that, I blocked both Nathaniel and Genevieve.

No calls.

No messages.

No access.

The final thread between us had been cut.

I drew a steady breath and picked up my suitcase.

When I stepped outside, Matteo White was already waiting.

A knowing smile curved his mouth.

“Ready?”

He extended his hand.

I took it without hesitation.

A private jet waited beyond the estate, its sleek silver body gleaming beneath the fading light.

I stared at it briefly but lacked the energy to comment.

As the crew prepared for departure, I turned toward Matteo.

He met my gaze.

I gave a small nod.

His smile deepened.

Then he opened his phone and executed the final step.

Within seconds, the evidence was sent to media outlets, board members of Ashford Holdings, major investors, and every influential name in high society.

By morning, the truth would be everywhere.

Nathaniel Ashford’ empire would begin burning before sunrise.

Matteo’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

“Now,” he said, watching the jet engines come alive, “the real game begins.”

Guilt began creeping into Nathaniel’s mind the moment Arabella’s message appeared on his phone.

Only then did he realize, with uncomfortable clarity, that he had completely forgotten the anniversary celebration she had spent weeks preparing. What unsettled him even more was the embarrassing truth that he had not even arranged a gift for her. It was a failure so careless, so undeniably personal, that even he found it difficult to dismiss.

Before the thought could take root, Genevieve leaned toward him and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, effectively drawing his attention away from the glowing screen resting beside the bed. When she pulled back, she studied him with quiet curiosity, her fingers tracing idle circles across his chest.

“What’s occupying your thoughts so completely?” she asked, her voice soft and intimate.

Nathaniel exhaled and forced the tension from his shoulders. He refused to let guilt ruin the fragile comfort he had found in Genevieve’s presence.

“Nothing important,” he said, setting his phone aside before pulling her closer.

They were still at the private lodge in the north and were scheduled to leave within the next few hours, which meant he still had enough time to return before the anniversary dinner. He could buy Arabella something expensive on the way home, apologize for the delay, and smooth everything over as he always had.

Arabella had forgiven him before.

She had endured missed dinners, forgotten promises, canceled trips, and countless disappointments. She had always forgiven him.

He had no reason to believe this time would be different.

That familiar certainty calmed him enough to relax, but the peace lasted less than an hour.

The first vibration from his phone was easy to ignore.

The second drew a glance.

By the fifth and sixth notification, irritation gave way to unease.

Calls began flooding in from people within his private network—board members, senior executives, legal advisors, investors, and family associates. Message after message appeared so rapidly that the screen barely stopped flashing.

Confusion turned into apprehension.

Then Graham’s name appeared.

Nathaniel answered immediately.

“Yes?”

Even he noticed the tension in his own voice.

Graham skipped any greeting.

“Turn on the news right now.”

Nathaniel frowned.

“Why?”

“Because you need to see what everyone else is seeing.”

Something in Graham’s tone made Nathaniel rise at once. A tightness formed in his chest as he walked into the sitting room and switched on the wall display.

The screen lit up.

The color drained from his face.

A high-resolution image filled the display.

It showed him and Genevieve at the lodge, locked in an unmistakably intimate kiss, his hand around her waist, her body pressed against his.

Below the image, a headline blazed across every major channel.

SCANDAL: BILLIONAIRE Nathaniel Ashford EXPOSED IN AFFAIR WITH WIFE’S SISTER

Nathaniel stared at the screen, unable to process what he was seeing.

For several long seconds, his mind refused the reality before him. Some desperate part of him searched for an explanation that did not exist.

The truth offered no escape.

Behind him, Genevieve entered the room and followed his gaze to the screen.

The change in her expression was immediate.

All warmth vanished from her face.

Panic took its place.

“Matteo will see this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Nathaniel… Matteo will know.”

The sound of her voice jolted Nathaniel back into motion.

He tightened his grip on the phone and reopened the call with Graham.

“Shut it down,” he said, the command emerging harsher than intended. “I don’t care what it costs. Pull every article, every video, every post before Arabella sees any of this.”

Silence answered him.

That silence frightened him more than refusal would have.

When Graham finally spoke, his voice was grim.

“I already tried. It spread across every major media outlet within minutes. Social media has it. Business channels have it. Investors have it. There’s no containing this anymore.”

Something cold settled inside Nathaniel.

He ended the call and immediately opened Arabella’s contact.

He called once.

No answer.

Again.

Straight to voicemail.

Again.

Blocked.

The realization came slowly, but when it landed, it hit with devastating force.

Arabella had blocked him.

Not ignored him.

Blocked him.

She had deliberately cut off every path he had to reach her.

Genevieve clutched his arm, panic rising.

“What are we supposed to do? Matteo isn’t answering me either. He blocked every call.”

Nathaniel barely heard her.

For the first time, the scandal stopped feeling corporate.

Until now, his greatest concern had been reputation, shareholders, and damage control.

Now another truth crashed into him.

Arabella knew.

And she had left.

That realization shook him far more than the scandal itself.

Something unfamiliar rose through the panic.

Fear.

Not fear of losing power.

Not fear of losing money.

Fear of losing Arabella.

He pulled away from Genevieve without a word and headed for his car, ignoring her calls behind him.

As the vehicle sped through the night, his thoughts spiraled.

He had always assumed Arabella would remain exactly where she had always been.

Waiting.

Forgiving.

Loving him with unwavering devotion.

He had treated that devotion like a certainty.

Like something permanent.

Like something that existed for his convenience.

Now that certainty felt dangerously naive.

As city lights blurred past the windows, memories surfaced with painful clarity.

Arabella’s quiet smile.

The way she always noticed when he skipped meals.

The softness in her voice when she called him Dom.

The unwavering loyalty in her eyes.

He had taken all of it for granted.

A painful tightness spread through his chest as a question surfaced, unwelcome and relentless.

Had he loved Arabella far more deeply than he had ever admitted?

He rejected the thought almost instantly.

But it returned.

Again.

And again.

By the time he reached the estate, desperation had replaced denial.

He barely waited for the car to stop before throwing the door open and rushing inside.

“Arabella!”

His voice echoed through the house.

No answer came.

The silence felt wrong.

It was not merely quiet.

It was empty.

The house still looked the same, yet something essential was missing.

Her presence.

Arabella had always carried warmth into every room, subtle but undeniable.

Without her, the estate felt hollow.

His gaze fell on the grand hall table.

An envelope rested there.

Before he even reached it, dread began coiling through him with suffocating intensity.

His hands shook as he picked it up.

He recognized her handwriting instantly.

He tore it open.

The documents slid into his hands.

Divorce papers.

Signed.

His breath caught.

At the bottom of the first page, written in Arabella’s elegant handwriting, were five words.

Happy Anniversary, Nathaniel.

Beside the papers sat several flash drives.

His hands trembled as he inserted the first one into the media console.

Videos filled the screen.

Him and Genevieve at the lodge.

Their embraces.

Their kisses.

Their whispered promises.

Their betrayal.

Each file revealed another piece of the truth preserved with merciless precision.

There was nowhere left to hide.

No lie left to tell.

No excuse left to make.

The full weight of what he had done crashed over him all at once.

His knees gave out.

He collapsed to the floor.

For the first time in years, Nathaniel Ashford felt completely powerless.

He whispered her name, but the sound barely resembled speech.

“Arabella…”

Only silence answered him.

Every empty room seemed to repeat the same devastating truth.

She was gone.

And this time, she was not coming back.

For the first time in his life, Nathaniel understood what it meant to lose something truly irreplaceable.

Unfortunately for him, that realization had come only after he had already destroyed it.