Mr Melendez,Your Wife Wants Divorce Long ago novel Chapter 248

**Her Spark Ignites Tonight**
**By J.S. Caldwell**
**Chapter 248**

Jayceon stood before Georgina, his gaze piercing and unwavering, as if he were attempting to carve his words into the very fabric of the night. “Georgina,” he began, his voice a blend of firmness and barely concealed frustration, “you were never meant to be a part of my life, not six years ago, and certainly not now. Whatever dreams you’re clutching onto, you need to release them. Take Leandro and just go live your life. That’s the only way you’ll find peace.” The finality in his tone was like a heavy shroud, enveloping the air around them, thick with unspoken sorrow.

With those words, he turned on his heel, the sound of his footsteps resonating against the pavement as he headed towards his car. The engine roared to life, a stark contrast to the silence that hung between them, and without a glance back, he sped off into the darkened streets, leaving Georgina behind, a tempest of emotions swirling within her fragile heart.

In another part of Zelmere, the night bazaar buzzed with life, a cacophony of sounds and scents that danced through the air—spices mingling with the aroma of grilled meats and the sweetness of pastries. Arthur, brimming with youthful exuberance, rushed over to Arabella, a steaming cup of milk tea cradled in his hands, the warmth radiating against the cool evening air.

He crouched beside the passenger door, his expression a mixture of concern and eagerness, reminiscent of a puppy seeking its owner’s affection. “Arabella, are you alright? Do you want me to go confront him? I can take him on!” The sincerity in his voice was palpable, a testament to his protective instincts.

Arabella, still wiping away the remnants of tears that clung to her cheeks, inhaled deeply, allowing the warmth of the tea to seep into her core. “No, Arthur, please don’t. I’m fine,” she replied, though the slight quiver in her voice betrayed her facade of calm.

She was acutely aware of Jayceon’s formidable fighting skills; she had witnessed his prowess firsthand. Samuel, a dual champion in Kickboxing and Taekwondo, had once found himself outmatched by Jayceon. Arthur, still in the throes of youthful bravado, stood no chance against him, regardless of how much he trained.

“Arthur,” she said, her voice gaining strength, “could you please take me to Vance Manor?” The urgency in her request hung in the air, a silent plea for escape from the turmoil that had engulfed her.

Later that evening, the atmosphere at Vance Manor was steeped in elegance, a stark contrast to the chaos Arabella had just fled. Oliver guided Blaire and Arabella into the opulent living room, where the soft glow of the chandelier cast intricate shadows on the polished walls.

Arabella took a moment to steady her racing heart before addressing Theodore, who lounged in a plush armchair, his presence imposing, as timeless as the antique quartz clock ticking steadily in the background.

“Dr. Palmer,” Theodore began, glancing at the clock as if it were a curious creature, “is there a pressing matter that brings you and young Mr. Rockwell to Vance Manor at such an hour?” His polite tone was undercut by a hint of skepticism, as if he were weighing her request against societal expectations.

Arabella inhaled deeply, her heart pounding as she prepared to lay bare her truth. “Sir, I had a disagreement with my husband tonight and hoped to stay here for a few days.” Her voice was steady, yet within her, a storm of anxiety brewed. Jayceon’s betrayal loomed over her like a dark cloud, and she was ready to confront the reality of her situation. To outsiders, it might seem like a private matter, but in the high society of Zelmere, it was an open secret—one she was no longer willing to conceal.

Theodore’s response was immediate and devoid of warmth. “Couples argue and reconcile, Dr. Palmer. If you wish to avoid returning home, I can assist you in securing a hotel or a room at the Mountain Resort.” His refusal was curt, emphasizing the societal norms that dictated how marital disputes should be handled.

Just as the tension thickened, a voice echoed from the second floor, slicing through the air like a knife. “Grandpa, I’ll see to my own guests.” It was Julian, his tone both commanding and familiar, a welcome interruption to the stifling atmosphere.

Arabella’s heart soared at the sound of his voice. She exchanged a knowing glance with Blaire, who discreetly slipped out of the room, leaving her alone with Julian. She hurried up the stairs, her anticipation quickening her steps.

Julian’s narrowed gaze met Arabella’s tear-streaked face, and his expression softened, a flicker of concern breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. “Disheartened again?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, though the underlying seriousness was evident.

Crouching beside Julian’s wheelchair, Arabella nodded earnestly, her heart heavy with the weight of her truth. “Uncle, Jayceon lied about a business dinner. He was meeting his mistress, and I caught him in the act.” The words tumbled out, each one laced with the sting of betrayal.

A subtle smile tugged at the corners of Julian’s mouth, a flicker of amusement breaking through his typically serious facade. He had spent enough time with Arabella to understand her resilience; she was a woman of strength, but he also recognized the vulnerability that lay beneath her bravado.

When she treated him, she was all business, commanding and focused. Yet in moments like this, she reverted to calling him ‘Uncle,’ seeking the comfort and support only he could provide.

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