Mr Melendez Your Wife Wants Divorce Long Ago novel Chapter 133

**Her Spark Ignites Tonight**
By J.S. Caldwell

**Chapter 133**

With a confident smile, Jayceon turned to Arabella, his voice carrying a note of pride as he introduced her to Mrs. Dawson. “Arabella, meet Mrs. Dawson, a remarkable individual and one of the top graduates from medical school. I believe you both will find plenty to discuss.”

Arabella offered a polite smile, her heart racing with curiosity. The atmosphere around them felt charged, as if both women were instinctively aware of the unspoken connection they shared.

As Jayceon departed with Mr. Dawson, Arabella sought a quieter nook where she could engage Mrs. Dawson in conversation. The soft murmur of the gathering faded into the background, allowing her to focus solely on the woman before her.

Suddenly, a strikingly young woman approached, her attire bold and revealing, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she directed a provocative glance at Mrs. Dawson. “I’ve heard that Mrs. Dawson has an impressive knowledge of jewelry. Could you possibly help me appraise the worth of this exquisite necklace I’m wearing?”

Mrs. Dawson, holding her wine glass with an air of elegance, regarded the young woman with a mix of amusement and contempt. “To you, it may seem like a treasure, but in my eyes, it holds about as much value as a bottle of wine my husband might casually uncork, or the cash he’d toss at a prostitute on a whim.”

The young woman’s face paled, shock washing over her like a cold wave.

In a swift movement, Mrs. Dawson stepped closer, her high heels clicking against the floor with authority. Before the young woman could react, Mrs. Dawson yanked the necklace from her neck, a bold act that left everyone around them gasping in disbelief.

As the woman instinctively reached out to reclaim her jewelry, Mrs. Dawson coolly handed the necklace to a passing waitress, her expression a mixture of triumph and disdain.

“Since you know my husband gifted that to you, perhaps you should have hidden it more carefully,” Mrs. Dawson quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Fury ignited in the young woman’s eyes as she spat back, “Sophia Collins, don’t get too cocky! Your husband will leave you sooner or later!”

In a swift, calculated motion, Mrs. Dawson tilted her glass, pouring the rich red wine over the woman’s head. “You’re merely one of my husband’s cast-offs. I could dispose of you whenever I see fit. You’re not even worthy of challenging me,” she stated, her tone icy.

Drenched in wine and humiliation, the young woman turned on her heel and fled the scene, her pride shattered.

Arabella, unable to contain her curiosity, turned to Mrs. Dawson and asked, “Aren’t you angry at all?”

Mrs. Dawson took a napkin from a nearby waiter, dabbing her hands with a grace that belied the chaos. She met Arabella’s gaze, a flicker of something softer in her eyes. “I used to be angry, but I’ve learned that such emotions can be easily spoiled. Whoever takes feelings seriously ends up losing.”

They stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Arabella’s lips curled into a smirk, her thoughts racing. She was born into a family that epitomized High Society; her lineage and dignity were ingrained in her very essence.

A noble birthright meant she would never stoop to the level of a mistress, nor would she allow an unhappy marriage to define her. Yet, the Palmer family’s downfall left her with no allies, no foundation to lean on. Jayceon could manipulate her at will, a puppet on strings.

Just then, Samuel appeared, his presence a sudden storm. He shot Jayceon a fierce glare, his protective instincts flaring, and swiftly pulled Arabella away from him.

Jayceon, unfazed, blocked their path with a calm demeanor. “When did you return to the country?” he asked, feigning indifference.

Samuel shot him a disdainful glance, his anger bubbling beneath the surface. “If you hadn’t called my father, would I have been sent abroad and locked away for so long? You heartless bastard. I have no time for you.”

Arabella looked at Samuel with gratitude, relief flooding her as she realized he had been kept away by his father’s orders.

Samuel forcefully swatted Jayceon’s hand from Arabella’s waist. “Keep your filthy hands off her. I need to speak with Arabella,” he declared, his voice firm and protective.

In that moment, Arabella felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps she wasn’t as alone as she had thought.