No More Picking Up His Pieces Chapter 10

No More Picking Up His Pieces Chapter 10: She Doesn’t Even Want the Name

Maxwell’s voice came through the door, low and heavy. “Arabella. Open the door.”

He wasn’t asking. He sounded like he was barely holding his temper in check.

Brooke was still by the laptop, her face pale. “Arabella.”

Arabella stared at the door for two seconds, then set down her phone and stood. “Stay where you are.”

“S-should I call the police?”

Arabella shook her head. “No.”

She walked to the door and asked, “Maxwell, are you here to have an actual conversation, or are you here to lose it?”

Silence hung outside for a second before Maxwell answered coldly, “Open the door.”

To Arabella, that was answer enough. He hadn’t come with even one decent word, and she opened the door anyway.

As soon as the door cracked open, Maxwell braced one hand against it and forced his way inside. The night wind swept in with him, along with the cold clinging to his coat.

His expression was grim, his eyes dark with barely restrained anger. His phone was still in his hand, the demand letter glowing on the screen.

Brooke took one look at him and shrank back into the corner, barely daring to breathe.

The moment Maxwell stepped inside, he asked, “Who told you to send that demand letter?”

Arabella shut the door behind him, her expression calm. “I did.”

Maxwell fixed his eyes on her, his voice dangerously low. “Arabella, do you really have to push this until there’s no way back?”

She laughed. “No way back? Maxwell, wasn’t this already beyond saving the moment you lent out the bridal jewelry set?”

His expression darkened. “I told you, it isn’t what you think.”

“And you also told me she only borrowed it for one night.” Arabella cut him off and looked up at him. “What is it tonight? Got a new excuse?”

Maxwell’s chest heaved, but her words left him with nothing to say. He slapped his phone down on the table. “A demand letter. IP infringement claims. Attribution rights.”

He locked his eyes on Arabella, each word clipped. “Are you really going to take on Kingston Group?”

Arabella glanced at the phone, her expression unchanged. “Didn’t Kingston Group come after me first?”

“Arabella.”

“Don’t use that tone with me.” Her voice cooled. “Every time you say my name like that, it sounds like you’re warning me to behave.”

Maxwell’s brows drew together.

Brooke sat in the corner with her head lowered, not daring to look up. For the first time, the workshop felt less like a studio than an interrogation room.

Maxwell took one step forward, his presence bearing down on the room. “Do you know what this letter will do to Kingston Jewelry tomorrow?”

Arabella nodded. “I do.”

“And you still sent it?”

“So what?” Arabella met his eyes. “Will Kingston Group collapse? Will the Kingston family fall apart? Will you, Maxwell Kingston, lose everything over it?”

She paused. “No. At worst, it’ll make you look bad. But making other people look bad is what your family does best, isn’t it?”

Maxwell stared at her, his jaw working. Several seconds later, he seemed to swallow back his anger. His voice dropped. “Withdraw the letter.”

Arabella did not answer.

He continued, “I’ll give you the restoration credit for the bridal jewelry set. I’ll personally revise Kingston Group’s statement tomorrow. If you want a public clarification, I’ll give you that too.”

Arabella listened, then suddenly laughed.

“See?” She turned toward Brooke, clearly saying it for her benefit. “He still doesn’t get it.”

Brooke froze, then immediately lowered her head and did her best to disappear.

Only then did Arabella turn back to Maxwell. “Maxwell, you still don’t understand. I didn’t send that letter so you would offer me something. I sent it because I’m done taking anything from you.”

His eyes darkened. “Taking what?”

Arabella looked at him, suddenly very calm. “Your compensation. The Kingston family’s so-called generosity. Whatever Kingston Group thinks it can toss my way.”

Maxwell’s expression cooled by the second. “Do you really have to take it this far?”

“Yes.” Arabella nodded. “Because if I don’t make it this clear, you’ll still think I’m just throwing a tantrum.”

The words landed, and the room went quiet. For a moment, Maxwell looked as if she had hit a nerve.

But a man like him did not lower his head when something hurt. He only dug in harder.

“You’re not throwing a tantrum?” He gave a cold laugh. “Arabella, you left home, posted online, contacted the media, and sent a demand letter. If that isn’t a tantrum, what is it?”

Arabella looked at him, and the last trace of emotion in her eyes settled into calm. “I’m leaving you.”

Maxwell’s expression changed.

Arabella acted as if she had not seen it. She turned, walked to the table, opened a drawer, and took out a document.

The paper was thin, but its corners had been pressed neatly flat.

Maxwell stared at it, his brow tightening. A terrible feeling gripped him at once. “What is that?”

Arabella did not answer. She walked back and pressed the document against his chest. “You keep acting like this is just some tantrum. Read it for yourself.”

He lowered his eyes. The moment he saw the heading on the first page, his face sank completely.

It was a draft divorce agreement.

Brooke froze where she stood. She had known Arabella wasn’t bluffing tonight, but she had not expected her to already have the agreement ready.

Maxwell’s fingers tightened around the pages. “When did you have this drawn up?”

“Just now,” Arabella said. “Charlotte drafted a version while she was working on the letter.”

Maxwell stared at her. “She drafted this too?”

“Yes.” Arabella nodded. “A demand letter and a divorce agreement go pretty well together. Saves time.”

That sentence finally pushed Maxwell past his limit. His eyes snapped up, and his voice dropped into something sharp. “Arabella, do you have to keep coming at me like this?”

Arabella gave a faint laugh. “Coming at you? Maxwell, so now you know how it feels?”

His chest rose and fell heavily. He lowered his eyes and flipped to the first page, only to stop abruptly at the second clause.

The clause was written clearly: Upon divorce, Party B voluntarily waives all rights and privileges associated with her status as Party A’s wife and shall no longer attend public events as Mrs. Kingston or as a representative of the Kingston family.

His face changed completely. He stared at that line for a long time without moving.

Arabella watched his reaction and suddenly felt tired. “Do you understand now?”

Maxwell lifted his head, his expression unreadable beneath the strain. “What do you mean by this?”

“Exactly what it says,” Arabella said. “Divorce. Give up the title. Cut myself clean. I don’t even want to be Mrs. Kingston anymore.”

Maxwell’s breathing stopped for a beat.

That was what finally hit him. Not the bridal jewelry set, not the trending list, not even the demand letter. This one line made him understand what she was really giving up.

Arabella was not fighting him out of pride. She was not trying to force him to back down or making a scene just to embarrass him.

She was done with all of it: the Kingston family, the title Mrs. Kingston, and him.

Maxwell looked at her, his voice lower than before. “Arabella. Have you thought this through?”

Arabella nodded. “More clearly than you have.”

He stared at her, anger and panic finally breaking through at once. His whole body went tense. “I don’t agree.”

Arabella smiled. “Again with that. Maxwell, do you think nothing counts unless you approve it?”

He suddenly stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. “I said I don’t agree.”

His grip hurt enough to make Arabella frown, but she did not struggle. She looked up at him, her eyes calm. “What exactly don’t you agree with?”

“The divorce, or the fact that I don’t want to be Mrs. Kingston anymore?”

Maxwell froze under her question.

Arabella nodded, as if she finally understood. “So you do know. What you can’t let go of was never me. It’s what Mrs. Kingston represented.”

The agreement crumpled sharply in Maxwell’s hand.

He stared at Arabella, something in his expression finally giving way. “Is that really how you see me?”

Arabella heard that and suddenly felt there was no point in arguing anymore. “Maxwell. Since you got here tonight, you haven’t once asked whether I’m tired, hurt, or scared.

“You only asked why I sent the demand letter, when I had the agreement drafted, and why I had to take it this far.”

She drew a quiet breath. “What else am I supposed to think?”

Maxwell’s fingers tightened inch by inch, as if he wanted to say something, but the words still stuck in his throat.

Those two seconds of silence hurt more than anything he could have said wrong.

Arabella looked at him and suddenly felt drained. She pulled her hand free and pointed toward the door. “Get out.”

Maxwell did not move.

Arabella’s voice went cold. “I said get out.”

Maxwell stared at her. “Arabella.”

“Don’t make me call the police.”

The moment those words left her mouth, Maxwell’s expression shut down. He stared at her for several seconds, then gave a humorless smile. “Fine. I’ll leave.”

Arabella said nothing.

He set the crumpled agreement on the table, then turned and took two steps toward the door before stopping. Without looking back, he said, “I won’t sign it.

“And don’t think leaving the Kingston family and Kingston Group means you can actually cut me out of your life.”

A faint smile finally reached Arabella’s eyes. “Try me.”

He stood there for two seconds, then opened the door and left.

The moment the door closed, Brooke finally dared to take a full breath. She was still unsteady. “Arabella, he looked terrifying just now.”

Arabella stood there without moving for a long time. After a while, she walked to the table and slowly smoothed out the divorce agreement Maxwell had crumpled.

Then she looked down at the first line and said softly, “Terrifying?”

She smiled faintly. “I haven’t even started.”