Chapter 4
•Helen's POV•
I stepped into the house at three in the morning, taking off my shoes by the front door.
The mansion was as empty and lifeless as it had been for three years.
I walked up the stairs to the bedroom, pulled my two suitcases from the closet, and began packing my clothes.
I didn't take much.
Just my basic outfits, my favorite coat, and a small box containing my grandmother's old sewing thimble.
Everything else in this house had been bought with Philip’s money, and I didn't want a single reminder of him.
I was zipping up the first bag when the bedroom door flung open against the wall.
Philip stood in the doorway, his face red and sweating, his tie hanging loose around his neck, breathing heavily.
“Where the hell have you been?” He roared, marching into the room. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
I didn't answer him.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Helen!” he screamed, snatching the sweater I was folding out of my hands and throwing it across the floor.
“Are you out of your mind? I came back to the studio and found the workshop locked, the ruined gown still sitting on the floor, and you were nowhere to be found!” He yelled again.
I picked up another shirt from the bed and placed it in the bag. “I left.”
“You left?” Philip scoffed, clapping his hands together in disbelief.
“And because you decided to throw a petty temper tantrum, Madam Genevieve’s assistant called me an hour ago and canceled her entire account.Our biggest backer, Helen! Canceled! Because she heard rumors that our brand quality is dropping!”
He pointed a finger at my face.
“You did this on purpose,” he hissed.
“You intentionally sabotaged my business because you were jealous of Claudia’s award! You are selfish, bitter, and out of control!”
I zipped the second bag, stood up, and looked him dead in the eye.
“I’m not fixing that dress, Philip,” I said. “And I’m never designing another collection for Crawford Fashion again.”
Philip stared at me for seconds, then let out a dry, mocking laugh.
“Are you hearing yourself right now?” he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest.
He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Never designing again? Who do you think you are, Helen? Before I brought you into my company three years ago, you were just a poor girl working in a small shop without a roof over your head!”
“I rescued you from poverty,” Philip said through his nose.
“I gave you a roof over your head. I gave you a name. Without me and my brand behind you, you are nothing in this industry. Nobody knows who you are! Nobody will ever hire you!”
Hearing his words, a bitter taste filled my mouth.
I looked at his angry face, remembering the three years I had sacrificed for him.
I remembered how I worked eighteen hours a day until my eyes bled with exhaustion.
I remembered how we never went on dates, how he barely touched me, and how we never became parents because I was always trapped in that basement workshop.
I remembered the night I lost our baby two years ago.
I had been bleeding in the hospital, suffering from extreme stress after working three days straight to finish a design collection for him, and Philip hadn't even stayed by my bed.
He had left after twenty minutes because he had an urgent dinner meeting with investors.
I had lost my child for his company, and he had treated it like a minor inconvenience.
“I paid for everything I got in this house with my own blood, Philip. You didn't rescue me. You used me.” I said through clenched teeth.
I reached into my bag, pulled out an envelope, and slapped it against his chest.
“What is this rubbish?” Philip barked, grabbing the envelope.
“It’s a legal notice,” I said.
“It demands a full review of all your company’s design files. Since you never made me a co-owner, every single drawing, pattern, and design I made belongs to me. You are no longer allowed to manufacture or sell my work.”
Philip looked down at the paper in his hands, then back at me.
“A legal notice?” he laughed out loud, tossing the envelope away.
“Are you seriously trying to scare me with fake paper? Helen, stop acting like a dramatic child. You’re having a breakdown because you didn't get your way.”
He stepped in front of the bedroom door, blocking my exit with a sneer. “Let me tell you what’s going to happen,”
“If you walk out that door tonight, I will lock you out of all our joint bank accounts. I will keep every penny, take away your company access, blacklist your name with every agency in the city, and make sure you sleep on the street. You will crawl back to me on your knees in less than a week, begging for food.”
I didn't blink. “Keep the money, Philip. Keep everything.”
I grabbed the handles of my two suitcases and walked straight toward him.
Philip stood his ground for a second, expecting me to stop.
But when he saw the unyielding look in my eyes, he instinctively flinched and stepped aside, letting me pass.
I walked down the staircase, leaving the silence of the house behind me.
As I pushed the front door open, the cool night breeze hit my face.
I immediately saw the rideshare car, waiting at the edge of the driveway.
My phone chimed in my coat pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen.
It was a text from Nathaniel…
‘My team is ready whenever you are. Sleep well, Helen.’
A soft smile touched my lips.
I typed a quick reply, letting him know I was safe, and slipped the phone back into my pocket.
Before getting into the car, I turned around and looked back at the windows of the mansion one last time.
As the car pulled away, leaving Philip’s world behind me, I took a deep breath.
I was finally free.