No More Picking Up His Pieces Chapter 01

No More Picking Up His Pieces Chapter 01 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 is—”

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.