Chapter 179 Exposed
Arabella sat frozen, gripped by a secret none of the other guests could imagine.
Sawyer's mistress was Cassidy.
Thinking back to right after the divorce—Anthony going on and on about how she'd cheated, how pure and innocent his precious Cassie was—she couldn't help but want to laugh. Talk about karma biting back hard.
Maybe God got sick of hearing him whine and decided to actually arrange a cheating scandal for him. Only it wasn't her who'd done the cheating—it was his beloved Cassie.
And that baby Cassidy had been carrying back then? Not even Anthony's. No wonder Sawyer couldn't let her go. When a relationship had gotten that far, how could either of them just walk away?
After a few seconds of stunned silence, Arabella pulled out her phone and dialed 911.
"Hello, I'd like to report a crime. The woman suspected of killing that little girl at Luxurious Beauty Apartments has been found. She's at the Sheraton Hotel right now. She just admitted it in front of everyone. There's audio evidence."
As she lowered her phone, she found Chloe watching her with an amused smile.
Heat crept up Arabella's neck. Worried Chloe might think she was being cold-blooded, she rushed to explain. "Grandma, that woman, she used to—"
Chloe waved her hand dismissively, still smiling. "I think you did exactly the right thing. After how she treated you, why shouldn't you get some payback? Besides, you're doing it completely within the law. I'd never think you were overstepping."
Arabella's face warmed. She had to admit there was definitely an element of vindication in her actions. But what Cassidy had done had caused her real harm. Sure, the healthiest response would be to just forget it all, but she wasn't a saint.
The Spring and Tucker families had already started going at it. The Springs especially had completely abandoned any pretense of dignity. Sawyer hooking up with his mistress at his own wedding ceremony—treating them like fools, treating their daughter like collateral damage. If they let this slide, they'd be absolute pushovers.
The Tuckers scrambled desperately to smooth things over, but the Springs were dead set on calling off the wedding. Shelly raised no objection. This ceremony was clearly finished.
It ended with the Springs storming out in fury, leaving the Tuckers to watch in helpless silence.
The Springs had barely cleared the doors when sirens tore through the air outside. Before the Tuckers could make sense of what was happening, a dozen armed officers stormed in and drove straight backstage.
Cassidy's screaming and sobbing immediately echoed from the back.
Sawyer's face went white. He started rushing toward his beloved, but his family grabbed him forcefully. His father Richard landed a vicious kick, roaring, "Even now, that woman is all you can think about? Look what she's done to the Tucker family! You think the cops would be here if she hadn't committed a crime? Didn't you hear that man say she's got a murder case? Stay put and don't you dare interfere!"
Sawyer forced his panic down. He couldn't afford to push his father and grandfather any further.
Cassidy was dragged out quickly. The moment she spotted Arabella in the distance, her gaze turned venomous as she shrieked, "It was you! Of course it was you! No one else would call the cops on me!"
Arabella acted like she hadn't heard a thing, calmly sipping her water.
Cassidy screamed and struggled as the police hauled her toward the squad car. Just as they shoved her inside, she let out a desperate wail. "Sawyer, save me! Please save me!"
A flicker of emotion crossed Sawyer's face. Before he could respond, Richard delivered a harsh slap, glaring at his son with pure venom. "From this moment on, that woman has nothing to do with you. If I find out you've helped her behind my back, you can get the hell out of the Tucker family. We don't need someone this stupid. You've disappointed me beyond words!"
Richard's words landed like a blade, leaving Sawyer utterly still.
With Cassidy arrested, the police approached Anthony. "Mr. Watson, you were already involved in this case, and since you're the one who accused Cassidy of murder, we'll need you to come down to the station and give a statement."
Anthony's gaze found Arabella across the room for a brief moment before he nodded. "Of course. I'll cooperate."
After a moment's hesitation, Rachel followed Anthony out.
The once-lively hall was left with scattered guests exchanging deeply awkward glances.
What the hell just happened?
This was the Tucker family—a family dripping with prestige. And Sawyer was the golden heir everyone had their money on. How did he end up with such catastrophic personal issues?
David personally approached Chloe to apologize. "Ma'am, I'm so sorry you had to witness this disaster. I'm afraid the wedding won't be continuing. Why don't I have a car take you home?"
Chloe glanced at Arabella.
Her luxury vehicle was parked right outside, but the driver had disappeared somewhere—she hadn't been able to reach him by phone since earlier. The moment she stepped outside, security would steer her straight to it. She had a sinking feeling that if Arabella saw that scene, Alex wouldn't be able to talk his way out of anything.
So she nodded, accepting David's offer.
Arabella helped Chloe into the spacious Mercedes.
David saw them off with barely contained emotion. "Ma'am, thank you for remembering the Tucker family. I'm so sorry you made this trip for nothing. Next time, I'll host personally and apologize properly."
Chloe waved him off. "It's nothing. With our history, how could I hold it against you? David, just make sure you educate the younger generation properly."
Stop spoiling kids who run around backing up their mistresses and bullying my granddaughter-in-law, she added mentally.
David's expression turned solemn. "You have my word—I'll discipline that boy properly!"
The window rolled up slowly as the car pulled away.
Arabella and Chloe sat in the back seat, one on each side. Both were a little on edge.
Arabella's fingers twisted anxiously in the fabric of her dress. She had questions she wanted to ask but didn't dare, didn't even know how to begin.
Chloe, meanwhile, knew this slip-up was pretty major. If Arabella pressed her on it, she wasn't sure she could smooth it over.
And if she couldn't... then she'd have no choice but to throw Alex under the bus.
Please don't let Arabella hate the whole family by association, she prayed silently. She swore, that harebrained scheme to hide their identity and play ordinary people had been all Alex's idea! Please don't let him screw this up with such a wonderful girl!
Neither spoke. The silence in the car stretched on.
They drove all the way to Alexander's modest apartment in the city center, and Arabella never asked a single question. She turned to Chloe with a sweet goodbye. "Grandma, I'll head in now."
Normally she would've invited Chloe up, but her mind was such a mess right now. Better not.
Chloe breathed a quiet sigh of relief, giving her a small wave. "Bye-bye."
As Arabella disappeared into the residential complex, Chloe immediately raised the privacy glass. The car practically fled the scene.
But after the car drove away, Arabella stopped walking. She pulled a key from her purse—a card dangled from the keyring. The one Chloe had given her that night. The key to the new house, with the address and unit number written on the card.
She stood there studying the key, then turned, walked back out of the building, and hailed a cab.
She had accepted the house but never once gone to see it. Deep down, she had never truly felt it was hers to claim.
But now, she had to see it. She needed to know exactly what kind of house Chloe had given her.
The new property was in a much more upscale part of the city center. Alexander's little apartment was in an older complex—convenient and lively, sure, but kind of run-down. Nothing that screamed 'major metropolitan area.'
But this place was completely different. She stepped out of the taxi and took in the complex, which managed to look luxurious from the front gate alone. A massive shopping center sat nearby, with high-end commercial streets just beyond.
The complex claimed its place without apology, planted squarely in the heart of the city's most coveted real estate.When the security guard spotted her, he approached politely. "Can I help you find someone?"
The guards knew almost all the residents by sight.
Arabella composed herself and held out the card. "I'm here to see my house."
The guard's demeanor immediately shifted to deep respect. This woman looked completely unassuming—her conservative outfit probably didn't even cost five hundred bucks—yet here she was, casually buying property in this neighborhood. And buying it before even coming to look, which clearly meant she had more than one property.
He was relieved he hadn't judged by appearances. Offending someone with this kind of money was a reliable way to find yourself in serious trouble.
"Of course. Follow me, I'll take you there."
He called back to his colleague in the guardhouse, then fell into step beside Arabella and led her in.
For the first time in her life, Arabella discovered that in top-tier luxury communities, guards actually drove residents around in golf carts to view their properties.
The guard dropped her off in front of a standalone villa.
"This is your house. Go ahead and look around. Here's my number—just call me when you're done and I'll come get you."
Arabella nodded silently.
After the guard left, she walked up to the villa entrance, staring at the address plate for a long time before finally confirming it.
The house Chloe had supposedly given her was actually a small villa.
Not huge, but in this location, villas cost nearly double what condos did. Which meant this little villa was worth at least forty million dollars.
After the 'Lady FitzRoy' bombshell at the wedding, she was already somewhat numb.
She unlocked the door and stepped inside, only to get another shock.
The place was fully furnished. And it was decorated in her favorite creamy aesthetic, every detail executed with precise, understated elegance.
Arabella stood frozen in the doorway, the scene before her refusing to feel real.
She toured upstairs and downstairs. Four bedrooms, two living areas, two bathrooms. Confirmed—every single thing had been designed according to her dream home.
But here was the problem: aside from her friends Daisy and Philip, she'd never told anyone what kind of house she wanted.
Her hands clenched into fists.
She sank onto the living room carpet and pulled out her phone, sending Daisy a WhatsApp message. [Free tonight? Need to talk.]
Daisy didn't respond—whether out of guilt or because she was actually busy, Arabella couldn't tell.
She wasn't worried. She knew where Daisy lived. After she got things straight with Alexander, she'd head over there.
Grabbing a throw pillow to hug, Arabella opened her phone's search function and typed 'Lady FitzRoy.'
The results were all fiction. Not a single useful piece of information.
She tried 'the FitzRoy family' next. This time plenty of results popped up, but there were too many FitzRoy families scattered across the search results. She had no idea which one she was looking for.
Finally, she typed in 'Alexander.'
Sure enough, still nothing useful.
Arabella let out a self-deprecating laugh. Of course. If he had hidden his identity to get close to her, why would his name be real?
Just then, sounds came from outside. The door opened and Alexander strode in. When he spotted Arabella, panic flashed through his eyes for a split second.
Arabella looked up with a slight smile. "You got here fast."
Alexander's mouth opened, words momentarily failing him. He'd come straight from a business meeting, still in his suit, looking windswept and rushed. He shrugged off his jacket and set it aside, then cautiously approached her, explaining, "Grandma called me after she dropped you off. "When I got home and didn’t find you there, I figured you’d come here."
So he'd rushed over immediately. And sure enough, here she was.
Arabella's voice was measured. "That six hundred thousand your dad gave me for renovations seems pretty unnecessary now. This place hardly looks like it needs me to decorate it myself."
Alexander quickly explained, "He was worried you might not like the decor, that you'd want to change things and wouldn't have enough money on hand."
Arabella smiled, her expression layered with complexity. “With a place this gorgeous, who am I to complain?”
Alexander’s hands tightened just a little. He sat down beside her, tentatively testing the waters. “Are you angry?”
Arabella shook her head.
Was she angry? A little, of course. She hated being lied to—even when the intentions were good.
But she couldn't quite muster real fury, because she still had her wits about her. She might not know his exact background, but just watching people grovel before Chloe earlier, she could guess he wasn't just some guy whose father ran a modest appraisal shop.
She was almost certain he came from serious money. Old money. Big money.
At minimum, on par with the Tucker family.
So what could a gorgeous, seemingly decent guy from that kind of background possibly want by hiding his identity and playing house with her? Her most valuable possession was that bank card with two hundred thousand dollars on it.
Would someone who casually gifted forty-million-dollar houses and six hundred thousand in renovation money care about her measly two hundred grand?
There was only one possibility. He wanted her.
"I just don't understand why." Arabella looked up at Alexander, genuine confusion filling her eyes. "I'm completely ordinary. Nothing special about me at all. What makes me worth all this effort?"
The only things she had going for her were a decent face and a reasonably attractive figure.
But would a wealthy heir lack for women like that?
Besides those assets, she had nothing. She was timid, boring. Her career achievements only mattered to ordinary people—to him, they probably meant nothing. And she was divorced.
What could he possibly want from her?