She leaned back in her seat; her gaze fixed on the persimmon tree outside. Its leaves swayed gently with the morning breeze, grounding her thoughts—until a familiar voice broke through.
"Bella!"
Mr. Sebastian Senclair approached with a longing in his tone, like a father seeing his child after years apart.
Arabella rose and embraced him. Only now did she realize how much he had changed. She remembered hearing his voice when he argued with Jacob in the library, but she hadn't seen him properly until this moment.
Mr. Sebastian Senclair carried power the way others wore perfume—subtle, elegant, impossible to ignore. In his early fifties now, his silver-streaked hair was combed neatly back, and a well-kept beard framed the sharp, discerning features of a man who had seen decades of triumphs and losses. His deep-set eyes reflected wisdom, heartache, and the quiet ruthlessness needed to protect an empire.
To the world, he was the formidable patriarch of the Senclair family, the iron pillar of the HaySen Group. But to the few he allowed close, he was a guardian—stern, strategic, yet unexpectedly gentle beneath the steel.
Arabella wondered if Jacob possessed the same aura since she had only heard his voice arguing with his father.
"Uncle, it's been a long time. How are you?" she asked as she sat back down.
"I should be the one asking you that," he replied, his voice unsteady with guilt. "I am so sorry we weren't with you when your grandfather passed away."
They continued talking, completely unaware that Jacob was watching them.
He stood by the tall window, morning light wrapping around him, tracing the clean lines of his suit. With his arms loosely crossed, he looked out in silence—composed, steady, unreadable.
But when he turned his eyes to Arabella, a faint ache tugged at him. Memories rose like a tide—the laughter they once shared, the warmth, the love he had buried.
She looked beautiful. Too beautiful.
Jacob couldn't deny it.
Her effortless elegance drew the eye without trying. Soft brown waves framed her delicate yet striking features, her warm eyes glowing with quiet intelligence. A hint of blush brightened her cheeks, making her seem almost luminous.
Her midnight-blue satin blouse gleamed softly as it moved, tucked neatly into high-waisted cream trousers that highlighted her graceful silhouette. Her gold earrings and layered necklace rested lightly against her skin, sophisticated without overwhelming her natural beauty.
His long-suppressed affection stirred again.
Jacob's POV
There she is—my wife-to-be.
I once promised her forever. But everything changed after our parents died. I broke my promise… and her heart… with my own foolishness.
I will have to face her carrying all this guilt.
When my father told me we would be wedded, I was actually relieved—because the truth is, my feelings never changed.
But I had already tied myself to Mia, convinced Arabella would never forgive me.
Mia stayed by my side when grief hollowed me out… when missing Arabella felt like drowning. After some time, I learned to love Mia too. How do I explain this to Mia? How do I make her understand?
And worst of all…
How do I face Arabella while hiding the truth—the guilt of my secret?
Mr. Senclair and Arabella were still deep in conversation when Jacob finally approached. As he passed by, Arabella looked up and noticed him.
Jacob—28, handsome in an almost unfair way, with fair skin, a strong jawline, and deep brown eyes that steadied on her. His black hair was slightly tousled, a few strands falling over his forehead. His expression was confident yet softened by recognition—lips slightly parted, eyebrows lifted, gaze warm enough to melt her resolve.
He wore a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his tall, lean frame, paired with a crisp white shirt and a sleek silver watch. He looked composed, elegant… grown.
She didn't expect him to look this striking. She tried to hide her admiration behind a calm expression.
"There you are, son," Mr. Senclair said warmly. "I'll leave you two to talk and maybe reunite. I know the years have separated you, but you were very close when you were younger. Try to reconnect, okay?"
He tapped Jacob's shoulder and kissed Arabella's head before leaving them.
Jacob sat across from her. He faced her fully, and with a small, sincere smile, said, "I'm sorry."
Arabella stiffened. Her mind raced.
Why is he apologizing?
Is it for abandoning her back then… when she needed him most?
She couldn't find her voice.
"I'm sorry we'll be wedded without me properly proposing," he added, looking straight into her eyes.
His warm, masculine voice lingered in her ears, brushing against her heart like a soft touch—dangerously gentle, dangerously familiar.
But she remembered the heated argument she overheard. Jacob wasn't willing. He made that clear.
Arabella knew he wasn't marrying her out of love. Only because his father threatened to take his position. And he already had Mia.
"I… uh…"
"I am sorry too," Arabella finally whispered, cutting him off.
Jacob froze, unsure what she meant.
"I'm sorry for making things difficult for you and Mia because of this marriage. I'm only doing this because it was my grandfather's wish. You don't have to feel burdened by the duties of a husband. When we're alone, you don't have to act like one. You're free to continue your relationship with Mia—just make sure no one sees or knows. I won't hold it against you."
Jacob's eyes widened.
She heard the argument.
The pain in his chest tightened.
Arabella had once been soft—fragile even. What had happened to her abroad? What had she endured alone that forced her to harden this way?
He wanted to explain, to apologize properly. But Arabella stood before he could speak.
"I won't take more of your time. I'm sure there are more important things you should attend to. See you at the wedding."
"Ari… wait," he called out, his voice low and familiar enough to make her feet stop mid-step.
It had been so long since she'd heard Jacob call her that—Ari. No one else ever used that name. The sound of it slipped through her defenses like a memory she had tried so hard to bury.
Her heart tightened painfully, the old ache blooming as if it had been waiting for this moment. She felt her eyes begin to fill, the threat of tears pressing against her composure, but she forced them back.
She couldn't cry. Not in front of him.
She reminded herself of the pain she felt the day he walked away, the hurt she had carried alone. She couldn't let herself fall into him again. She wouldn't submit to him—not this time.
She walked away calmly, leaving him frozen, watching her until she disappeared beyond the doorway.
Outside the mansion, she exhaled shakily.
"Why did I say all that? He must think I eavesdropped…and why did I freeze when she called me Ari?" she muttered, pinching her leg in frustration.
Iris arrived and opened the car door. Arabella slipped into the backseat, eyes closed in embarrassment.
"What happened?" Iris asked, noticing her expression.
"Nothing… just tired," Arabella murmured.
"Mr. Senclair's secretary called. He bought your future home, as instructed. I'll inspect the property later. Any requests?"
Arabella opened her eyes.
"Right. A marital home."
"Make my bedroom separate from Jacob's. We won't be sharing a bed. Hide it so no one notices."
"Of course." Iris nodded.
AT HAYSEN GROUP MAIN BUILDING: OFFICE OF THE CEO
Jacob sat in his office chair, head tilted back, staring at the white ceiling. His arms hung at his sides, strength draining from him. The chair creaked under his weight as he slowly straightened.
Papers were arranged on his table, waiting to be reviewed, but they never caught his attention.
His mind is busy with something else -- Arabella's words, echoing relentlessly in his mind.
He stood abruptly, walking across the office until he faced the tall glass wall. The documents stacked across his desk didn't matter.
All he saw—was her. Her face. Her beauty.
"I'm actually cheating…" he whispered, disgust darkening his voice.
Never in his life had he intended to be a man who two-timed. Even if his marriage to Arabella was arranged, and even if they weren't in a real relationship yet, the awakening of old feelings made him feel like he was betraying Mia.
Jacob was upright—principled. As perfect in character as he appeared in appearance.
He breathed deeply, hands braced on his hips.
He could never accept Arabella's offer.
It went against everything he believed.
His mother's words echoed in his memory—her gentle voice guiding him even after death:
When you find yourself a wife, cherish her.
Love her and no one else.
Be a good husband.
That is the secret to a happy life.
He remembered her telling him this when he was just twelve.
With those words, he made his decision:
He would end things with Mia.
It was the right thing to do.
But thinking of Mia brought a sharp sting. He cared for her deeply. He had even planned to propose.
His mind swirled with turmoil as the sky outside shifted to a soft orange glow.
He didn't hear Damien enter until a hand slapped his back.
"Bro, you good?" Damien teased.
Jacob's brows knotted. "Can't you knock?"
"I knocked like a thousand times. You were zoned out." Damien dropped onto the sofa.
Jacob returned to his chair. Damien studied his troubled expression.
"Is your marriage bothering you?" Damien asked.
Jacob stayed silent, eyes closed.
Damien—charming, wealthy, with brown curly hair and a confident smile—waited him out.
"Dad already announced it, huh?" Jacob finally said.
"Yep. It's all over the news."
"What?" Jacob leaned back, hands on his head, headache swelling.
He expected his father to announce it internally—not to the whole country. Mia definitely knew now.
His plan was ruined.
He groaned, making Damien drop the book in his hands.
"Bro, relax. You look like you're about to punch someone."
"Damien, don't start. Don't you have anything else to do?"
"I am actually busy. Busy watching you look like a mess. Your face is priceless."
"Ugh…" Jacob buried his head in his hands, elbows on the desk, mind racing with what to tell Mia.
A knock. The door opened.
Henry, his secretary, stepped inside.
"Sir, Miss Mia is here."
Jacob and Damien both stood up. Surprised, and afraid.
Jacob pointed desperately. "Damien. Stay."
"Nope. You're alone this time." Damien dashed out.
Jacob turned his body around, exhaled sharply, biting his lip in betrayal.
Mia entered, and Henry shut the door behind her.
She was beautiful—27, with wavy black hair, soft bangs, and a modest pink dress paired with heels. She moved with delicate grace.
She stopped in the center of the room, trying to soften her face and make it sad, facing Jacob's back, waiting.
"It's all on the news, Jacob," she said softly. "You don't have to explain."
He turned to her.
Mia summoned tears, though the news hadn't truly hurt her. Her attachment to Jacob was an act—a task assigned by her father.
She was instructed not to stop the marriage but to use it as an opportunity - to use Jacob and gather information from Arabella.
She played her role flawlessly – like an actress deserving an award.
Jacob approached and wrapped her in an embrace.
"I'm really sorry," he murmured. "I know it hurts you. I know how unfair this is…"
He tried easing into a breakup, but Mia cut him off.
"You can marry her," she whispered tearfully, "but please don't leave me."
His heart cracked at her trembling voice. Her tears disarmed him, guilt crushing him.
"I know you don't have a choice," she continued. "This marriage is arranged. You don't feel anything for her, right? You can marry her… it's fine. But I will never leave you."
Her tears fell—perfectly timed, perfectly placed.
Then she stepped closer, letting her body melt against his. Her hands slid to his chest, then his cheeks. She lifted her face and kissed him deeply, passionately.
And once more, Jacob fell into her trap.