Mr Billionaire's Regret Chasing His Irresistible Wife (Jared and Arielle) novel Chapter 138

(ARIELLE’S POV)

"Arielle, are you alright?" A voice asked, tapping my shoulder.

I instantly jolted back to reality to find Rebecca standing by my side, a worried look on her face.

"Yes, of course. Why?"

She gave me a look that was both sympathetic and full of concern, her eyes soft. "You’ve been zoning out since you got here, Arielle. It’s okay if you’re not okay. You don’t have to pretend."

Her words hit me like a wave, and I felt the knot in my chest tighten even further. I hadn’t been myself. Not since the call with Dwayne. His advice, the questions he’d raised—whether to tell Maverick the truth about his father’s identity, or keep it from him… I was still turning it all over in my head.

"I’m fine. Really," I forced a smile, trying to brush it off, but I could feel how fake it sounded.

Rebecca didn’t buy it. She tilted her head, looking at me carefully. "You’re not fine, boss. You should go get some rest. Really. You’ve been through so much lately. It’s okay to take a break."

Her kindness should’ve been comforting, but all I could focus on was the gnawing feeling in my gut. The last thing I wanted was to burden anyone with my chaos.

"Thanks Rebecca. I’ll be fine," I said, trying to sound convincing as I glanced at the clock. It was closing time.

I let out a sigh, "You're right, I should leave. Tell Stephen to see to things in my absence."

"Of course." She walked me out, her hand resting briefly on my arm. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

"I will, thanks." I muttered.

As I walked towards the exit, I quickly pulled out my phone and texted Big Joe. "Hey, I'm ready to head home."

By the time I stepped into the parking lot, the car was waiting for me. Big Joe was always punctual, and right now, I was thankful for his consistency. I slipped into the backseat, the silence of the car swallowing me whole.

I needed to clear my head. But the longer I sat there, the more my thoughts spiraled. The quiet of the drive didn’t soothe me—it made me feel more exposed, like I was waiting for something bad to happen.

By the time we pulled into the driveway, my heart was racing, my hands cold with so many questions in my head. Somehow I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

I mumbled a quick, "Thanks, Big Joe," and stepped out of the car. The quiet of the evening seemed like a distant hum, muffled by the constant buzz of my racing heart.

I headed inside and changed into comfortable jeans and a cozy sweater, hoping the soft fabric would settle my nerves.

Downstairs, I glanced at the clock. Maverick would be home soon. He was running a little late because he had music classes after school.

Sighing, I slumped on the couch, deciding to wait for him there. Maverick—his smile, his laughter, the way his eyes lit up when he’d talk about his day. My heart softened at the thought of my son, and suddenly, I felt like I was being suffocated by the weight of it all.

I have to talk to him. The thought came to me like a sharp breath.

I felt a pang of guilt as I finally realized that I’d been avoiding this all the long time.

I’d heard everyone else’s opinions. Jared, Ashley, Dwayne—everyone seemed to have an answer for me. But I hadn’t stopped to think about what Maverick would want. What he would need to know. How he would feel about the truth.

I couldn’t hide from it anymore.

Maverick was a child, but he deserved to make his own choices, to know the truth about where he came from. And even if that truth would mean facing a cruel world, even if it hurt, it was time for him to have a say.

I’ll be there for my son, accompanying him whatever he would choose.

As I sat there, the seconds slipping away, a wave of determination washed over me. I can give him something better. I could…do better than my parents ever did.

I’ll tell him the truth about his father, about us.

That settled. I suddenly felt my heart was relieved.

But as the hours ticked by and there was no sign of Maverick or his school bus. It was weird. Maverick was rarely late. He had music lessons, but that wasn’t like him. My son was never late.

My worry intensified as I kept checking the clock unconsciously. Where could he be? Was there a delay with the music class because I was certain he was not with my mom? She's away on a short term trip, hence he had to use a school bus until she returned and resumed picking him.

Something felt off, and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

"I’ll just check with his school," I muttered to myself, trying to reassure myself that there was some logical explanation.