Mr Melendez Your Wife Wants Divorce Long Ago novel Chapter 297

**Her Spark Ignites Tonight**
**By J.S. Caldwell**
**Chapter 297**

As Arabella’s eyes inadvertently landed on Blaire, a wave of dread washed over her. It felt as if her heart had dropped into the pit of her stomach, heavy and foreboding.

With determination fueling her steps, Arabella advanced toward Blaire, seizing him by the collar and forcefully pinning him against the wall. The impact echoed in the dimly lit corridor, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in her mind.

Casting a furtive glance back at Steve, she lowered her voice, barely above a whisper, and demanded, “Did you hit Jayceon with your car?”

Blaire, seemingly unfazed, let out a nonchalant hum of agreement. “Who told him to snitch on me to my grandpa, and then refuse to divorce you~” he retorted, a hint of defiance in his tone.

Arabella quickly clamped a hand over Blaire’s mouth, shooting him a sharp, warning look that conveyed her urgency. “Blaire, your brakes failed, right?” she pressed, hoping he would understand the gravity of the situation.

He shook his head vehemently, a smirk creeping onto his face. “My car just passed inspection. There’s nothing wrong with it,” he declared, his tone almost mocking as he dismissed her concerns.

Anxiety coiled tightly in Arabella’s chest as she glanced back at Steve once more, a bead of sweat trickling down her brow. She was desperate to communicate her thoughts without drawing attention. “I get it; you must be having an episode. You’re here for a check-up with me. Just go register quickly, and I’ll see you before I leave,” she urged, her eyes pleading with him to comply.

Blaire puffed out his chest, brimming with misplaced confidence. “Arabella, I’m not sick. I’m eating well, sleeping well, and my spirits couldn’t be better. I just wanted to get even,” he proclaimed, his bravado ringing hollow in the tense atmosphere.

Arabella shot another anxious glance at Steve, her heart racing, before she grabbed Blaire’s arm and began to make her exit. It didn’t matter that Blaire was the youngest son of a powerful European tycoon; in Zelmere, the consequences of his actions loomed large. After hitting Jayceon, there would be no escaping the repercussions, no matter how influential his family was.

Steve watched helplessly as Arabella and Blaire disappeared into the elevator, his heart heavy with concern.

An hour passed, and Jayceon was finally transferred to a VIP room, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling the air. He lay on the hospital bed, dressed in a blue and white gown, an IV snaking into his arm. His expression was dark, clouded with frustration as he turned his gaze toward Steve. “Where is she?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Steve, feeling the weight of Jayceon’s gaze, remained silent, unsure of how to respond. His boss had tasked him with finding Arabella, but she hadn’t even bothered to check on him; she had simply walked away with Blaire.

The silence stretched, and Steve wrestled with the words that refused to leave his lips. He couldn’t bring himself to voice the truth.

Jayceon’s patience wore thin. “I’m asking you a question. Are you mute?” he pressed, his tone sharp.

Steve hesitated, the tension palpable. “Mr. Melendez, your wife, she…” he began, but faltered under the intensity of Jayceon’s stare.

Jayceon’s frown deepened, a flicker of anger igniting within him. “What did she say?” he demanded, his voice rising slightly.

Steve shook his head, his heart racing. “She didn’t say anything,” he replied, then quickly added, “She said some things.”

The early morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on Arabella as she prepared herself for the day. She had intentionally applied light makeup, enhancing her features without overshadowing her natural beauty. Clad in a vibrant field-blue two-piece set that hugged her curves and ended just above her knees, she slipped on white sneakers that added a casual flair. Her hair was pulled back into a neat high ponytail, giving her a youthful and fresh appearance.

At precisely eight in the morning, Arabella arrived at Jayceon’s hospital room, a bouquet of fresh flowers cradled in her arms. As she stepped inside, her heart raced at the sight of Jayceon lying on the bed, his eyes locking onto her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. His thin lips were pressed into a tight line, a clear sign of his displeasure.

Today, her outfit suited her perfectly, and the delicate makeup she wore accentuated her beauty, making her appear even more radiant. The design of her attire showcased her figure beautifully, while the high ponytail contributed to her stylish, age-defying look. The blue fabric seemed to radiate elegance and purity, enhancing the aura she exuded.

As Jayceon’s gaze deepened, Arabella felt a mix of apprehension and determination.

“Did you know I was hurt and in the hospital? Where have you been?” he asked, his voice low and laced with frustration.

Setting the flowers down gently, Arabella approached the side of his bed, her expression turning serious. “Jayceon, let’s get a divorce. It’s for the best—for you, for me, for everyone!” she declared, her voice steady despite the gravity of her words.

They locked eyes, the silence stretching between them for a solid thirty seconds, each second heavy with unspoken emotions.

Suddenly, Jayceon threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rising to his feet with a fierce determination. Bloodshot eyes bore into Arabella as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “Can’t you see that I’m injured?” he exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion.

Caught off guard, Arabella found herself unable to break free from his embrace. She softened, allowing him to hold her, and replied lightly, “Who hasn’t been hurt before? As long as it doesn’t kill you, it’s nothing.”