Chapter 150
"Catherine, are you out of your mind?" Philip's eyes blazed with fury. "You call that an explanation?"
Her nonchalant dismissal of the situation with Cecil, along with her unapologetic attitude, clearly indicated she had no intention of properly explaining their relationship.
Each time he tolerated her behavior, she seemed to forget her place. Had she forgotten who she was to him?
The more Philip thought about it, the angrier he became. With a sudden movement, he pushed Catherine away from him.
Catherine, caught completely off guard, fell to the floor, her elbow striking the dining chair.
Upon hearing the impact, Philip's heart clenched. He immediately looked down at her, reaching out to help her up, but Catherine violently slapped his hand away.
His brow furrowed. He hadn't meant to be physical with her. He hadn't pushed her that hard—he'd only expected her to step back into her seat, not fall to the floor.
"Are you hurt?" Philip asked, his anger momentarily replaced by genuine concern.
"Don't pretend to care!" Catherine snapped, unable to contain her emotions any longer.
A man only laid hands on a woman when he didn't truly care about her. To Philip, she was nothing more than a disposable plaything.
A wave of heartache washed over her. Catherine had once been the treasured jewel of her parents, cherished and protected. Why was she here now, suffering the wrath of this callous man?
He clearly didn't value her, yet she had foolishly imagined that one day he might love her and help her avenge her parents. What ridiculous, wishful thinking!
Catherine struggled to her feet, grabbed her handbag from the chair, and walked out without looking back.
Philip watched her resolute departure, his face growing increasingly dark.
In the past, he might have followed her to smooth things over, but now he refused to indulge her anymore.
Look what his indulgence had created! She disliked Emma's return, so she flirted with Cecil to make him jealous? This was absolutely unacceptable.
How could Philip allow a woman to walk all over him?
She wouldn't be forgiven until she apologized.
Catherine called a car and returned to her apartment.
Sitting in the back seat, she stared at the night scenery blurring past the window as tears spilled uncontrollably down her cheeks.
She tried wiping them away with her palm, but they continued to flow. Eventually, she gave up the struggle and let them fall freely.
She felt utterly useless.
Time and again, she had warned herself not to develop feelings for Philip. She knew every argument was an emotional drain, yet she couldn't help herself.
'Catherine, pull yourself together! Be more detached!' She thought
Philip was nothing but a complete bastard. Not a single tear shed for him was worth it!
"Ma'am, did you have a fight with your boyfriend?" the driver asked, catching sight of her tears in the rearview mirror.
Catherine didn't respond, but her miserable expression seemed to confirm his assumption.
The driver handed her a box of tissues. "A beautiful young woman like you... Men can be stupid sometimes. If he doesn't appreciate you, find someone who will."
"My daughter's about your age. If I found out a man was making her cry like this, I'd teach him a lesson he wouldn't forget!"
Catherine listened to the driver's kind words and couldn't help thinking of her own father.
When Harry was alive, his favorite saying had been. "Elara is the queen of our home, and Emily is our princess. You deserve all the beautiful things in the world."
If Harry were still here, he would probably comfort her just like this driver, maybe even teach that scoundrel Philip a lesson.
Her parents in heaven surely wouldn't want to see her so heartbroken.
For the next few days, Catherine stayed in her own apartment, never returning to Philip's villa. They didn't contact each other.
Their stalemate continued in silence.
After that night of crying, Catherine quickly adjusted her emotions.
She kept to her routine and enjoyed the freedom that came with living alone.
At Nova Pharmaceuticals headquarters, Alex placed three resignation letters on Philip's desk. "Mr. Foster, these are resignation letters from the department heads of Human Resources, Planning, and Marketing."
Philip stared at the letters with a cold smile. "What is this, some kind of coordinated protest?"
Alex, who had been working five consecutive nights, looked terrible.
"Sir, I don't think they're protesting. I think they're trying to save their lives."
Since beginning his cold war with Catherine, Philip had thrown himself completely into work.
For days, he had been pulling the leadership team into meetings starting at 6 AM and ending at 1 or 2 AM the following morning.
Two department heads had already been hospitalized for exhaustion and IV fluids.
Alex himself felt on the verge of collapse.
With a thunderous crash, Philip swept all the documents off his desk onto the floor.
"Incompetent fools!" he roared.
Alex, seeing Philip's dangerous mood, sensed trouble brewing.
This couldn't continue—at this rate, he would work himself to death.
Philip's face darkened as he gestured for Alex to leave.
After Alex departed, Philip picked up his phone from the desk and checked his call history.
Nothing!
That stubborn woman hadn't even called to apologize!
Unsatisfied, Philip opened WhatsApp. He considered himself rather reasonable—if she apologized via message, he might be willing to forgive her.
He opened their conversation, but the last messages were from Monday evening.
If he wouldn't contact her, she clearly had no intention of being the first to yield.
That obstinate woman was as stubborn as a mule!
As Philip stewed in frustration, his phone rang with a call from Rowan.
He frowned, answering reluctantly. "Mother."
"Phil," Rowan called softly.
Philip experienced a moment of disorientation. His mother's voice instantly brought to mind Catherine, who would call him "Phil" with that same sweet, affectionate tone.
"Mother, what is it?" His voice betrayed his exhaustion; he couldn't summon any enthusiasm.
Rowan heard the unusual tone in her son's voice. "Tomorrow's Saturday. You're free, aren't you? You haven't been home for dinner in ages. I'll prepare a feast for you!"
Philip rubbed his temples. "Mother, I'm rather busy lately."
"Busy with what?" Rowan pretended to be angry. "You haven't been home in over a month. I ask you to come for one dinner and you make excuses. It's like I never raised a son at all!"
"Fine, if you won't come, I'll just make this wonderful dinner for Catherine instead!"
Philip immediately caught the critical information.
Catherine?
Catherine was going to dinner at the Foster home?
"I should go—" Rowan began, pretending to end the call when Philip hastily interrupted.
"I'll be there!"
Rowan sounded suspicious. "That was a quick change of heart."
Philip didn't want his mother to realize he was agreeing because of Catherine. "If I don't come, you'll only be upset with me."
Rowan played along. "Of course I would be. Do you know how long it's been since I've seen you?"
She didn't believe his excuse for a second. It was obvious he'd agreed the moment he heard Catherine was coming!
"Be at home by seven tomorrow evening. Catherine hasn't been to our house before, so remember to pick her up on your way."
Philip feigned annoyance. "Fine, I know."
Philip's mood improved after he hung up.
Catherine had never refused Rowan.
For tomorrow's dinner, he would definitely see her.
She didn't know the address of the Foster manor, so by tomorrow at the latest, she would have to call him, begging for a ride.
Alex knocked and entered the office. "Mr. Foster, the meeting is about to begin."
"Cancel it," Philip suddenly announced with unexpected generosity. "Everyone take the day off to compensate for the overtime."
Alex's eyes widened, his previously dull gaze suddenly brightening with hope.
Philip had no interest in work now. He only wanted to go home, get some sleep, and recharge so he could face Catherine tomorrow in peak condition.
Meanwhile, after finishing her call with Philip, Rowan dialed Catherine's number.