"Wait." Philip raised one finger in the air as he headed toward the door. "Before we go, just a professional warning. We're working together now, okay? So… don't fall in love with me. I'm just an employee doing my job."
Marina stopped. Turned slowly. Looked at him like someone witnessing a pigeon perform complicated acrobatics for no reason.
"…Seriously?" she asked, absolutely emotionless.
"I am serious!" Philip insisted, spreading his arms. "You're looking at me like that now, but remember that movie… A Walk to Remember? I think that was the one. The girl—whose name I forgot—told the guy—whose name I also forgot—not to fall in love with her. He laughed, mocked her, and look what happened after! Everyone knows!"
He pointed at himself while marching toward the door.
"Don't say I didn't warn you later. I'm an extremely lovable person. A public menace, even."
Marina let out a "sure" that meant absolutely everything except agreement.
"Uh-huh… right," she said, shaking her head as she followed.
Philip opened the door with the drama of someone stepping onto a stage.
They took the elevator down to the garage. Philip stared, thoughtful, at the sea of cars—vehicles he could only dream of owning. He kept his composure; he had already freaked out the day before. If it were his first time seeing the place, he would've absolutely lost all dignity in front of Marina.
Marina noticed his look and raised a brow.
"And this is your second time seeing your own garage?"
"Marina… my second," Philip sighed with the gravity of someone about to philosophize. "But this is so beautiful it temporarily cures my depression. Anyway, let's cut to the chase."
He stretched out his hand like someone choosing a prize on a game show:
"Let's take the most expensive car."
"Philip…" Marina crossed her arms. "Do you even know which one is the most expensive?"
"Of course I do." He pointed at the row of cars as if he could see invisible price tags. "Just look at the shine… the natural arrogance of the finish… and the fact that I felt my soul leaving my body when I looked at it."
Marina laughed—that laugh that was still rare, but already came more easily around him.
"Alright, luxury-car genius. Which one?"
Philip pointed with absolute conviction at a black coupe with chrome details.
"That one. If that car could talk, it'd have a British accent and politely call me 'poor.'"
Marina unlocked exactly that one.
Philip's eyes widened.
"I… got it right?"
"Yes. And that scares me a bit. I only know because I had to listen to Mac drooling over this car for months, but apparently only two exist in the entire world."
"Don't worry." Philip slipped into the driver's seat with the posture of someone being promoted to CEO. "Just another one of my extraordinary skills. Perceptiveness… and beauty."
"Philip…"
"Yes?"
"Just get in before Mac calls again."
He obeyed immediately.
On the way, as Philip drove with the easy fluidity of someone who'd done it a thousand times, he leaned back in the seat, pointing at her with a professor-like seriousness.
"Alright, focus now. From here on, I'm Heir and you're Rosalind. Don't mix it up."
Marina raised an eyebrow.
"Do you always talk like that… with that much conviction?"
"Only when I'm right. Or when I'm bluffing. Fortunately, today it's the first option."
She chuckled softly but listened attentively.
Philip continued:
"The good news is that Charlote's system doesn't work on me. Zero. Niente. I'm basically a walking bug. And if you're near me, your little 'emotional tongue-tie' doesn't activate either. No losing your voice, no freezing, no turning into a spectator of your own life."
Marina breathed a little deeper, as if that single sentence had loosened a chain wrapped around her chest for years.
"So… that's why you wanted to come with me?"
"Yes." He crossed his arms, staring out the window with firm resolve. "We're going to that nightclub for a very simple reason: you deserve to say everything you were never able to say. Especially to those idiot friends of Mac's."
He paused dramatically, a sharp smile spreading across his face.
"And also…" he added, clearly delighted, "because I really want to see their faces when they realize that today's 'Rosalind' doesn't stay quiet listening to the crap they say. And even better: now you show up with a super-rich heir by your side."
He lifted his chin, theatrical.
"Those morons have no idea the kind of trouble they just dug for themselves."
Marina let out a short, disbelieving laugh, but there was something burning beneath it—a spark coming back to life.
"And you really think this is going to work?"
"Marina… please." He pointed at himself. "Look at me. The system doesn't control me, Charlote doesn't control me, Mac doesn't control me… they don't have a single card to play against me. And if you're with me, they don't have one against you either."
She took a slow breath, as if for the first time she felt true space inside her own body.
Marina turned to him—and for the first time, she seemed to genuinely believe him.
"Then let's put on a show," she murmured.
Philip smiled, satisfied.
"That's it, girl. Now we're finally on the same page."