True Heiress Returns to Her Unemployed Rich Family (Arabella) novel Chapter 443

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Chapter 443 Suspicious Accident

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Ruby laughed. “Of course I’m helping you. It’s not like I’d ever take her side. That girl’s always been a joke.” She paused, frowning. “Wait–why’d you leave the diamond necklace with the Hamiltons? If you didn’t want it, you could’ve just given it to me.”

“If you want one, I’ll buy you another.” Naomi’s voice flattened. “I don’t want that one anymore.”

Ruby blinked. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Naomi grabbed her bag. “Come on. Let’s grab food, then hit the stores. Didn’t you say you wanted a necklace?”

“Wait, now? Seriously?” Ruby’s face lit up. “Yes. Let’s go.”

They left the apartment and slid into Naomi’s car. Naomi drove, her eyes fixed ahead, dark and unreadable.

That necklace felt like a joke now. The excitement she’d felt when Florence first handed it to her? Gone.

She finally understood: if Arabella hadn’t stepped back, Florence never would have offered it. So from now on, anything she wanted–she’d get it herself.

Including Matthew.

*****

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains. Arabella had been up late working on sketches and had zero intention of surfacing anytime soon.

“Arabella?” Florence knocked softly. “You awake?”

“Mom… five more minutes…” Arabella mumbled, already drifting again.

By the time she actually woke, the light was bright and insistent. She blinked groggily window, squinting. “What time is it…?”

She fumbled for her phone. “Oh no. That late?”

Stretching, she hauled herself out of bed, washed up quickly, and headed downstairs.

Florence looked up from the kitchen island. “There you are. You okay? You never sleep this

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Chapter 443 Suspicious Accident

late.”

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“Fine. Just stayed up too late.” Arabella rubbed her eye.

Florence relaxed slightly. “Breakfast is still warm. Come eat.”

Arabella dropped onto a stool. “Actually, just milk? I should probably head out soon.”

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Florence poured her a glass anyway, then reached for a plate. “Milk’s not enough. Let me make you a sandwich.”

Before Arabella could protest, a turkey and cheese sandwich appeared in front of her.

“Thanks, Mom.” She smiled.

“Of course. Eat.” Florence leaned against the counter. “So what kept you up so late?”

Arabella looked away, took a sip of milk. “Nothing. Just… got into a show. Lost track of time.”

Florence gave her a knowing look but didn’t push. “Okay, but don’t make a habit of it. You need sleep.”

“I know. I know.” Arabella took a bite.

Florence reached out, smoothing a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “Take your time.”

Arabella finished quickly, then stood. “Okay, heading to work.”

“Drive safe.” Florence watched her go.

Once in the car, Arabella’s phone buzzed. Unknown number. She frowned, answered. “Hello?”

“Ms. Hamilton, there’s movement on the thing Mr. Alfred Hamilton mentioned. We intercepted some activity. Just letting you know–they’re making a move.”

“Okay. Got it.”

She hung up, expression shifting. Ruby really couldn’t wait, could she? Moving faster than expected.

Arabella pulled out her laptop, tapped into a secure interface, and scrolled through a few screens. A cold smile tugged at her lips.

“Seriously, Ruby?” Spreading rumors about Naomi and Matthew? “Are you trying to help her or tank her?”

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She closed the laptop, tossed it onto the passenger seat, and pulled out of the driveway, heading toward the pharma facility.

At a light, even though it was green, a figure darted out. Arabella slammed the brakes–too late. The car jolted.

“Ow! Ow! Oh my God! Somebody help!” An older woman crumpled to the ground, wailing.

Arabella was out of the car instantly. “Ma’am? Are you okay? Where are you hurt?”

“Everywhere! I can’t move! What do you think?” The woman’s voice was sharp, furious.

“I’m a doctor. Let me check you.” Arabella knelt, reaching out.

The woman slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me! How do I know what you’re really doing? You say you’re a doctor–how am I supposed to believe that? You just hit me! What if I’m seriously hurt and you tell me I’m fine?”

Arabella’s jaw tightened. “Then let me take you to a hospital.”

“No. My son’s right up the street. Take me to him. We’ll go together. I’m not going anywhere alone with you.” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m stupid? What if you try

something?”

Arabella studied her. Something felt off. A moment ago, the woman had been wailing like she was at death’s door. Now her voice was strong, steady–nothing like someone genuinely injured.

“Okay,” Arabella said carefully. “Can I at least help you up?”

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