Mr Melendez Your Wife Wants Divorce Long Ago novel Chapter 323

**Her Spark Ignites Tonight**
**By J.S. Caldwell**
**Chapter 323**

On the roadside, Jayceon stood like a statue, his gaze fixed on the taillights of the car that was carrying Georgina away, growing smaller until it vanished into the horizon. An unsettling chill crept into his expression, transforming it from one of concern to a mask of cold determination.

With a heavy heart, he turned and slid into the passenger seat of Steve’s car, the weight of the voice recorder in his hand feeling heavier than ever. He handed it over to Steve, his fingers lingering on the device as if it were a lifeline.

“This voice recorder holds all the clues and evidence we need,” Jayceon declared, his voice low and edged with intensity.

The darkness in his eyes was palpable, a storm brewing beneath the surface. He continued, “I’m giving you three days. Gather all the evidence you can, run another paternity test on Leandro, and then bring those two people to me.”

Steve nodded, his expression serious. “You can count on me, Mr. Melendez. I’ll get started right away.”

After imparting his instructions, Jayceon exited the vehicle, the door slamming shut behind him, echoing his inner turmoil.

As the clock ticked toward five-thirty, Jayceon spotted Arabella emerging from the outpatient building. He approached her with purpose, his mind racing with unspoken words.

Arabella halted in her tracks, her brow furrowing as she asked, “Why haven’t you left yet?”

Jayceon reached for the handbag she held, but she hesitated, clutching it tightly. His outstretched hand fell back to his side, the rejection stinging more than he anticipated. “I appreciate your help today. I’ve made a reservation at a restaurant,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood.

Before he could finish, Arabella interjected, “I agreed to assist you because I made a promise. There’s no need for gratitude. My parents are waiting for me at home for dinner.”

Jayceon’s voice softened, “I can give you a ride home; it’s on my way. Plus, there are some things I need to discuss with you.”

Arabella glanced around, her eyes scanning the surroundings, and then they began walking together toward the small green park situated in front of the hospital, a silent truce hanging between them.

“If you have something to say, let’s talk here,” she stated, her tone firm.

Jayceon paused, his gaze locking onto hers for what felt like an eternity, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability etched on his face. “Why did you return the card I gave you?” he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Arabella’s expression hardened; she had anticipated this question. “Jayceon,” she replied, her tone icy and distant, “getting a divorce from you is the best thing that could have happened to me. I don’t need any compensation.”

His emotions spiraled out of control as he gripped her arm, pulling her closer, desperation lacing his words. “Do you truly want to sever all ties with me?”

Arabella pushed him away, stepping back to create space between them, her voice sharp. “Do I look like I’m joking with you?”

Oliver rushed towards them, relief washing over his face. “Young Master, Mr. Brennan, you’re finally here! They’ve been arguing for a while now. Please, you need to talk to them.”

As Jayceon and Samuel exchanged a knowing look, they entered the living room, the atmosphere heavy with unresolved conflict. Broken shards of glass littered the floor, a testament to the chaos that had unfolded.

At the center of the room sat the old man, his expression grim and unyielding, while Conrad loomed in the middle, his face flushed with anger.

Tabitha stood protectively in front of Conrad, cradling Kimberly, who was sobbing uncontrollably into her arms.

Upon noticing Jayceon and Samuel’s arrival, Tabitha finally released Kimberly, who seemed to crumble further, her distress evident.

Samuel’s sharp gaze caught the unmistakable mark of a slap on Kimberly’s face, and his expression darkened with fury. “Uncle Conrad, can’t you resolve your issues without resorting to violence? Kim is a grown woman; how could you still hit her?”

As Samuel defended Kimberly, her cries grew even more heart-wrenching. She buried her face in Samuel’s side, her voice trembling as she lamented, “Sam, my dad slapped me twice, boo hoo hoo.”

The tension in the room reached a boiling point, and the air crackled with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions.