Chapter 39: The Freedom

Chapter 39: The Freedom


Marceline’s POV

“How can you say that, Marceline?” I heard Philip’s voice as I walked out of the bathroom.

His sudden voice startled me. I didn’t expect him to still be in this room, waiting for me to finish my bath.

“What’s your problem, Philip?” I snapped, pressing my hand on my chest to calm my nerves.

“How can you say that?” he asked again. His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife.

“Say what?” I frowned, not understanding what he meant.

“How can you tell me to continue my…” he swallowed hard, like the words were bitter to his tongue, “…to continue with Anastasia?” he asked, his face full of displeasure.

I raised a brow at him. I didn’t understand why he seemed so angry about what I’d said.

“Why would you tell me that, Marceline?” he asked unhappily, rubbing his eyes like he was tired of himself.

“You should be grateful that I’m willing to give you both this freedom,” I said calmly, reaching for my hair dryer to dry my hair.

“What? Grateful?” he asked in disbelief, his eyes widening as if I’d spoken something insane.

“Of course, you should. Go be with her. But as long as it doesn’t interfere with Roman, I don’t care. You must be a good father to him,” I said firmly. Roman is my breaking point. I can’t stand him being unhappy or feeling like he doesn’t have his father’s love.

“So that’s it? You’re pushing me to her?” Philip’s voice vibrated with anger and shock.

“Push? You’ve already pushed yourself to her. I’m only giving you a go-ahead,” I said, placing the dryer on the table since I was done.

“Marceline… don’t say that,” he muttered, taking a deep breath.

“I’m really tired. Just leave my room,” I hissed, my voice drained.

“This is also my—” He stopped, his eyes scanning the room. Only then did he realize this wasn’t our bedroom. “You… moved out of our bedroom?”

I sneered and didn’t bother replying.

“Alright then. If that’s what you want,” he said with a short, bitter laugh. He dragged his hand through his hair, stormed out, and slammed the door shut with a bang.

I scorned at his action, then changed out of my bathrobe.

When I went downstairs, Roman was already fast asleep on the couch while his cartoon still played on the TV. I carefully carried him to his room and tucked him into bed, laying him down in a comfortable position.

Afterward, I reheated the food Monica had prepared before leaving earlier in the evening. I ate quietly, my thoughts heavy, then shut the entrance of the mansion before heading back upstairs.

Just as I entered my room, my phone rang. I rushed to pick it up before it stopped ringing. It was Celesta.

“Hello, buddy,” I said, chuckling when I heard her scoff.

“We haven’t spoken for days, Marc,” she complained unhappily.

“Weren’t you on vacation with your husband? I didn’t want to disturb you,” I said with a smile.

“Lies. You’ve just been drowning yourself in work,” she hissed. “Well, I’m back now, so you have no excuse again.”

“You didn’t tell me,” I said, lying on the bed. My lips curved into a smile because I already knew her reply.

“You didn’t ask,” she said, just as I expected. We both laughed.

When the laughter died down, her voice softened. “How are you doing?”

“I’m very well, Celesta,” I replied with a gentle smile. She always worried about me more than I worried about myself.

“I hope that wannabe hasn’t done anything,” she asked, and I knew immediately who she meant. Since I was now working at Stanmore, her words only pointed to one person.

“What can she do to me?” I scoffed. “Anyway, I fired her today.”

The scream that tore from Celesta’s mouth almost made me drop the phone. She shouted in pure shock and happiness.

“Tell me everything!” she demanded breathlessly once she calmed down.

I chuckled and told her the whole story—how I caught Anastasia with Philip again and why I had finally fired her.

“Wow! Marc, I have to see you tomorrow. I need to hear the rest in person,” she said happily.

“I’m going to work tomorrow, Celesta,” I said, shaking my head with a small smile.

“Come over to my place after work. Bring Roman along, so you won’t have any excuse,” she insisted, her tone decisive, leaving no room for refusal.

“Alright,” I agreed softly. I needed to see her too. I had missed her.

We talked for a few more minutes before ending the call.

I stared at my phone even after the line went dead, as if waiting for another call or message that never came.

Finally, I sighed, placed the phone on the bedside table, and drifted into sleep.