No More Picking Up His Pieces Chapter 02

No More Picking Up His Pieces Chapter 02 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.