At Hunt Manor.
Late at night, the mansion was all quiet. Arabella Everett carefully pushed open her bedroom door, tiptoeing down the stairs and into the kitchen.
At dinner, William Hunt and his wife Susan started arguing again. The rest of the Hunt family didn't know how to deal with it, let alone Arabella, a little girl fostered in this household.
Arabella hid in her room and didn't even eat her dinner. Now, it was midnight, and she couldn't stand the hunger anymore, after all, she was at the age where her body was growing.
Opening the fridge, Arabella found only two slices of bread. Not much, but enough to fill her rumbling belly a bit.
Suddenly, a bright light flashed outside the window. Someone was driving home.
Arabella skillfully hid behind the kitchen door, munching on the bread while listening carefully.
The front door of the mansion creaked open, familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Arabella counted the steps as she listened, and when she reached thirty, she peeked out from the kitchen.
It was nighttime, the moon was bright, casting a frosty glow throughout the house.
The man walking in was tall and handsome, his broad shoulders bathed in the moonlight, making him look rather dashing.
After watching for a moment, Arabella retreated back into the kitchen, contentedly finishing her bread.
Having not seen him for about a week, she didn't expect to see him tonight, but there he was.
Suppressing the excitement in her heart, she quietly finished the last bite of bread. Hearing no more noise outside, she opened the door and stepped out.
Just as she walked out of the kitchen, she looked up, and then she froze.
Halfway up the winding staircase, Preston Hunt was leaning against the railing, smoking a cigarette. He had taken off his jacket, looking relaxed and casual, a far cry from his usually strict and meticulous demeanor. The moonlight poured over his crisp white shirt, creating a faint halo around him, making him seem like a mirage.
Arabella stood at the kitchen door, like a frightened fawn.
Preston turned his face towards her.
The moonlight softly traced the contours of his face, his clear brows and eyes hidden in the shadows.
He seemed to be looking at her, or perhaps…waiting for her.
For a moment, Arabella was confused. Her smooth, slender arms unconsciously moved behind her, nervously gripping her hand, before she finally walked up the stairs.
When she reached Preston, Arabella looked up and finally saw his eyes clearly.
He was indeed looking at her, his eyes seemed to hold a hint of curiosity, and there seemed to be a smile on his lips, though it was not obvious.
"Did you have enough for dinner?" he asked.
"Um."
Preston looked at her thin shoulders.
"What about now?"
"I ate two slices of bread, I'm full now." Arabella answered truthfully.
Preston continued to smoke, the glow of the cigarette illuminating the smile at the corner of his mouth.
"You're easy to feed," he said.
Arabella wasn't sure if this was a compliment or an insult, she looked up at him.
Preston just looked at her, his gaze deep, and stopped speaking.
Arabella began to feel uneasy. She diverted her gaze and turned to go upstairs, but she misstepped, her body. leaning forward!
Preston reacted quickly, immediately ditching the cigarette in his hand and reaching out to catch her.
His palm felt her soft body, something he didn't expect.
Arabella froze, and Preston didn't move either.
Suddenly, Arabella came back to her senses. In that moment, a flurry of thoughts ran through her mind. Although her brain and her heart were in a state of utter chaos, her body miraculously remained calm.
She didn't avoid him, didn't dodge. She just turned her head to look at Preston.
Arabella had sharp, clear eyes, bright and sparkling under the moonlight..
Preston stared at her.
That year, she was 17, and he was 25.
For the first time, Preston realized that the little girl who came to the Hunt family at the age of 10 had grown up.
A year later, 18–year–old Arabella was about to start her studies at the university.
A breeze blew through the woods, the light–colored curtains fluttering. Arabella was lying on her desk, watching the ticking hands on her watch.
On the fifteenth of each month, the Hunt family had a tradition of hosting a family dinner, and all the family members would come home.
Arabella was full of anticipation, but she dared not hope too much.
Over the past year, Preston seemed to be busier and busier, often not coming home for two or three weeks at a time.
Arabella had gotten into the habit of having a second dinner after the main meal a year ago, but she rarely saw Preston late at night anymore. The last time they met was over a month ago.
Then, a black car drove into the Hunt' family gate.
Arabella immediately stood up, watching the car stop in front of the courtyard.
A minute later, Preston got out of the car.
Arabella left the room and walked to the top of the stairs. She paused, looking down at her clothes, took a deep breath, and then started walking down.
As she appeared on the staircase, Preston just walked through the door.
The living room was crowded.
Mrs. Hunt Susan and her two aunts were chatting on the sofa, her uncles were tasting red wine together, and several younger siblings were playing a new game in front of the TV… In all this hustle and bustle, Preston immediately spotted Arabella on the staircase.
On her eighteenth birthday, Arabella tried wearing a red dress for the first time.
The weather in May was still a bit chilly. Her sleeveless dress just barely covered her knees, and its neckline was a bit low, but it perfectly outlined the figure a grown woman should have. The rich and vibrant colors. made her skin appear even more sexy, and her eyes sparkled even more.
Arabella had always been beautiful, and after going through puberty, her beauty was even more radiant.
Such a look and the intense color of her clothes matched well, so she looked good in red.
Arabella knew that dressing this way would upset many people in this room, but she decided to be capricious.
On the first day of adulthood, she wanted to be her best self, but only to please one person.
Preston looked at her, his gaze deep and serene.
Arabella met his gaze, stepped in rhythm with her heartbeat, and slowly walked down the stairs.
Preston still stood at the door. When Arabella walked down the last step, Preston looked away and turned his head towards the outside, extending his hand.
Then, he walked in, holding a girl's hand.
"This is my girlfriend, Vivian Smith." Preston introduced to the people in the living room.
Everyone immediately turned their attention to the door, looking at the girl whose hand Preston was holding.
No one was paying attention to Arabella anymore.
She used to be the most eye–catching presence in the room, but at that moment, she seemed to have lost all her colors.