Separated Rooms for Three Years, He Panicked After I Moved Out Chapter 14

Separated Rooms for Three Years, He Panicked After I Moved Out Chapter 14

She was silent for a few seconds, then sighed.

“I’ll talk to your father. Just… take care of yourself. If you need money, you tell me.”

“I don’t. My trust fund is more than enough.”

“That’s good. Marceline, I’m sorry. Back then, I never should have—”

“Mom, don’t.”

“It’s already over.”

After we hung up, I leaned back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling for a long time.

Outside the window, I could hear the faint call of seagulls.

The apartment wasn’t big, but it was quiet and peaceful.

Unlike the Pierce mansion, which had thousands of square feet yet always felt empty and cold.

I spent the next week settling in, arranging the apartment exactly the way I liked.

Every morning, I slept until I woke up on my own, went for coffee, and walked along the beach path. Then I’d come home to read a book or watch a show.

This life felt lighter than all three years I had spent in that house combined.

On the eighth day, my mother called again.

“Marceline, your father wants you to come home for dinner this weekend.”

“He wants to see you. To talk.”

I agreed.

When I pulled up to the house in Beverly Hills, my father was already standing at the front door, waiting for me.

He wore a dark polo shirt. His hair was much whiter now, the lines on his face deeper than I remembered.

The moment he saw me, his eyes reddened. He quickly turned his face away and cleared his throat.

“You’re back.”

“Hi, Dad.”