Chapter 102: Rush Of Crisp Air

A deep, satisfying warmth bloomed in Roxanne’s chest as the police van started its engine.

Through the tinted window, she watched Christian press his palms against his face, desperately hiding from the flashes of the neighbors’ phone cameras. For a brief second, his hands dropped, and his dark eyes locked onto hers through the glass, silently screaming a promise of revenge.

She didn’t care. Let him threaten her. All that mattered was that he was out of her house, and soon, he would be out of her life for good.

The sharp buzz of her phone broke the silence. She glanced down at the screen, a genuine smile softening her lips when she saw the caller ID. Richard. She slid the screen to answer, pressing the warm glass to her ear.

"How is everything over there?" Richard’s voice was low and smooth and instantly grounded her. "I hope that lunatic isn’t giving you a hard time."

Roxanne kept her eyes fixed on the retreating van. "Everything is under control. Christian doesn’t live here anymore."

A brief silence hung on the line, followed by the low, distinct rumble of Richard’s chuckling. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, Richard," she said, her voice lifting with a light, airy breath. "He’s officially been thrown out."

From the driveway, the muffled sound of Christian shouting from the back of the moving van drifted over the lawn. "If that’s Richard, tell him he hasn’t heard the last of this! Don’t you dare celebrate yet!"

Roxanne didn’t even blink. She completely tuned the noise out, leaning back against the porch railing. "I finally have my home back, Richard. Just the way it should have been a long time ago. I only wish my father were here to see this."

"He would be incredibly proud of you, Roxanne," Richard said, his tone dropping into an intimate register that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. "I’ll let you finish up your business there, and then we can talk more tonight."

Roxanne nodded, a soft flush warming her cheeks. "Thank you, Richard. For everything."

"No need to thank me," he murmured. "You agreed to be with me, Roxanne. I’ll always protect you."

After a few quiet words, the line went dead.

Theodore stepped up beside her, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners. "Are you ready to officially take back your property?"

Roxanne met his gaze and nodded, her chest rising with a steady breath. Together, they walked across the threshold. She pushed the door open and stepped into the foyer.

The indoor air felt immediately different, lighter, emptier, as if the house itself had taken a sigh of relief. But beneath the stillness, the suffocating scent of Christian’s presence still lingered.

She walked slowly into the grand living room, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood. For a fleeting moment, her mind flashed back to the day they had first moved in together as newlyweds.

She remembered the blind hope she’d felt back then, truly believing this place would be the foundation of a beautiful marriage. It had been nothing but a beautifully packaged lie.

Her gaze drifted to the plush sofa. She remembered the afternoon she had surprised him with it, the bright, sparkling laughter they had shared, and how he had pressed a kiss to her temple, promising to reimburse her for the cost.

That money never came.

Instead, that very sofa had become the place where she spent countless, agonizing nights staring at the door, waiting for him to come home. And when he did, he always reeked of whiskey and another woman’s perfume, with his mouth full of excuses.

Roxanne turned away from the couch, her jaw tightening as she moved toward the grand staircase. Halfway up the steps, the image flashed in her mind again.

That trail of another woman’s clothes lining these exact stairs on the night of their wedding anniversary. A humorless laugh bubbled in her throat. She shook her head, her grip tightening on the banister as she climbed higher, Theodore following at a distance behind her.

When she pushed open the master bedroom door, the concentrated scent of Christian’s cologne hit her right in the face. She scrunched her nose in immediate disgust.

She had once loved that masculine, woody scent until she discovered one of his many mistresses had bought it for him. He had never stopped wearing it.

Her eyes locked onto the large king-sized bed. A sharp, familiar sting pricked the back of her eyes, but it wasn’t from grief.

It was the burning, white-hot humiliation of how long she had allowed him to treat her like an afterthought. She sniffled, remembering the endless nights she had lain on her side of that mattress, practically begging him to just look at her, only for him to roll over or leave the house to sleep in someone else’s arms.

A sudden surge of anger washed over her.

Roxanne marched up to the bed, grabbed the sheets with both hands, and ripped them off the mattress with a violent, liberating tug, hurling them to the floor.

Before they even settled into the dust, she lunged toward the windows, throwing the latches open. A rush of crisp, cool afternoon air flooded the room, as though the house itself had been holding its breath.

Theodore stood by the doorway, his brows furrowed with quiet concern. "Are you alright, Roxanne?"

Roxanne sniffled, wiping a lone tear from her cheek as she turned to face him. Her chest heaved, but her eyes were bright and clear.

"I finally did it, Theo," she whispered, a smile breaking across her face. "I finally found the strength to get rid of the one person who broke my heart every single day. I took my power back."

Theodore’s expression softened, a proud smile lighting up his face. "I know David is looking down right now, smiling his head off."

Roxanne looked up at the ceiling, drawing a deep breath of fresh air into her lungs. She wiped her eyes firmly. "No one is ever going to take my power from me again," she stated, the words quiet but ringing through the empty bedroom like a sacred vow.

Just as the final word left her lips, the phone in her hand vibrated sharply.

She lowered her gaze to the glowing screen. The name flashing on the display made her breath catch instantly in her throat.

Harry.