Chapter 454 Oliver Cheeky Remark: In My Heart, You Belong Only to Me
As they walked out of the building, dusk had settled over the city. Only a faint glow remained on the horizon, barely separating earth from sky. Behind them, the sound of something shattering echoed from Matthew's office—clearly, he had thrown something in anger.
Sarah hesitated mid-step.
Oliver glanced at her. "Having second thoughts?" he asked softly.
She looked up at the fading light and smiled faintly. "I just think he's getting too old for such outbursts."
Years ago, if Matthew hadn't reacted so strongly when Nicholas spoke those words—if he had let her refuse Nicholas herself—how different things might have been.
Dwelling on the past brought no comfort. "Let's go," she said quietly.
In the car, as Sarah fastened her seatbelt, she asked, "How did you know where to find me?"
Oliver smirked. "I installed a tracking device on you."
She gave him a steady look.
He reached over to touch her cheek, his voice deepening. "Jacob called me. Said you'd been 'kidnapped for blood tests.' He demanded me come rescue you. So here I am, playing the hero."
Half-truth, half-fiction—Sarah couldn't tell which parts were which. She decided not to press further and turned her attention to the streetlights passing by.
Oliver's long fingers gripped the steering wheel, his eyes occasionally drifting toward her.
At a stoplight, he retrieved a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment, lit one, and after a few drags turned to her. "Move in with me."
"What I said back there was just to get us out of a difficult situation," Sarah explained softly.
His gaze remained unwavering. "Maybe so, but when you needed someone, you took my hand. You chose to stand by my side." He paused. "Move in with me. I'm not asking you to remarry me—I just want to take care of you and Jacob. And don't you miss Nicole? She adores you."
The car's interior was dim, filled with the subtle scent of her perfume mingling with his cologne, creating an intimate atmosphere. Oliver gently took her hand in his.
His palm was large and warm against hers. "Will you move in with us?" he asked again, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sarah's fingers curled slightly within his grasp, but this time, she made no attempt to pull away.
Her silence was answer enough.
Something bloomed in Oliver's chest, filling his entire being until he could barely contain it. Even so, he only leaned forward to place a restrained kiss on her lips.
Once, they had known deception and unrequited love.
Now, after years apart, they stood as equals—simply a man and a woman who had grown into themselves.
He desired her, and she no longer pushed him away.
What began as a gentle kiss deepened as Oliver cradled her face, his passion rising. His hand slipped beneath the edge of her blouse, caressing the softness that he had once known so well.
Sarah made a soft sound in her throat.
Oliver pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, his voice rough with emotion. "Your body has only ever belonged to me, hasn't it?"
Given his colorful romantic history, Sarah couldn't help feeling a twinge of resentment. She answered contrary to her heart, "No."
They remained close, his gaze penetrating, filled with something she couldn't quite read. Finally, he said softly, "In my heart, you've never belonged to anyone else."
Sarah leaned against him, her heart racing.
That night, he stayed at her apartment, sleeping respectfully in the guest room. Before bed, he came to kiss the children goodnight, and lingered to kiss her as well—deeply, as she lay against her white pillows.
The next day, Oliver had business at the company.
Zoey came to help Sarah pack. There wasn't much to move since she had only recently returned to the country, and anything else could be acquired later.
At three in the afternoon, two black SUVs pulled into the driveway of Oliver's estate.
Claire was waiting with the staff. When she saw Sarah and Jacob step out of the car, her eyes filled with tears. "Mrs. Windsor," she said instinctively.
Sarah didn't correct her. Instead, she took Claire's hands warmly. "Thank you for everything these past years. You've raised Nicole beautifully—she's so loving and sweet."
Claire wiped her tears. "It was no hardship. Mr. Windsor had the difficult part—running the business during the day and caring for Nicole at night. Even when he traveled for work, he would take her along. Mrs. Windsor, if I may say so, though he never spoke of it, he's been waiting for your return all these years. Every spring, he would take Nicole to Vesper City to pay respects to Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell."
Claire left the rest unsaid, but Sarah understood.
Quickly composing herself, Claire lifted Jacob into her arms. She had cared for him since birth, and their years apart had done nothing to diminish her affection.
Claire pressed her cheek against Jacob's, tears flowing freely. Though slightly embarrassed, Jacob hugged her back, allowing her to hold him. "Jacob hasn't changed a bit," she said, her voice breaking. "Still as lovable as ever."
Nicole, feeling left out, tugged at Claire's skirt. "I'm lovable too."
Claire picked her up as well, her back nearly giving out, but her smile never faltering. "You're both my precious ones."
Oliver had respected Sarah's space.
He had prepared a guest room for her, though it was clear the space had been recently renovated. Everything was done in ivory white with elegant furnishings. The canopy bed featured the finest imported fabrics, and sunlight filtered through the windows like moonlight.
Most impressive was the walk-in closet filled with clothing.
All from Sarah's favorite designers—the entire current season's collection waiting for her.
Sarah stood speechless.
Behind her, Zoey smiled. "Mr. Windsor arranged all this days ago. Sarah, he truly cares for you."
A woman knew when a man loved her.
Sarah gently touched the expensive garments. "So he knew I would come back all along..."
As she stood there, lost in thought, Nicole's voice called from outside.
Sarah stepped out to find the little girl in a floral dress, rolling happily on the large bed, looking impossibly sweet.
Sarah's eyes grew misty at the sight.
Later that night, in the Windsor Group's executive office, Oliver closed the final folder and looked up at Zoey. "Anything else that needs attention?"
Zoey shook her head. "Everything's taken care of, Mr. Windsor."
Oliver nodded and extracted a cigarette from the silver case on his desk. He lit it unhurriedly, taking slow drags.
Matthew had made his move.
Oliver gave a soft, derisive laugh. To think that someone like him could force Matthew to intervene personally, twice—it was almost flattering. But Matthew wasn't the man he once was; he had aged. And Oliver wasn't the same man either. He would no longer show mercy.
After finishing his cigarette, he casually asked, "Are Sarah and Jacob settling in alright?"
Zoey smiled. "It's a house she once called home. How could she not feel comfortable?"
Oliver's lips curved upward. "I'm more concerned about whether she's comfortable with me. Sarah can be quite stubborn sometimes. Zoey, you have no idea how much I indulge her these days."
Zoey held back a comment. After a week of witnessing their interactions at the office, she'd seen plenty of their rekindling affection.
Oliver grabbed his jacket and headed out.
The streets were nearly empty at this hour.
Along the roadside, women in revealing outfits negotiated with potential clients, their dignity eroded by circumstance.
For the second time, Oliver spotted Ellie.
Just like before, she looked desperate in a cheap red dress, selling herself to a man who regarded her with obvious disdain. Nevertheless, the man handed her some cash.
Ellie took his arm, preparing to head to a seedy motel.
Then her gaze froze.
She had seen Oliver.
This time, he was alone, still as elegant and distinguished as ever.
Ellie's lips trembled.
She ran to his car, frantically knocking on the window, her eyes pleading for compassion, begging him to rescue her from this life where she had to sell herself to survive.
In the darkness of night, only a car window separated them.
Her eyes remained fixed on him.
The window rattled under her desperate knocking.
Oliver stared at the traffic light as it turned green. His Adam's apple bobbed twice before he gently pressed the accelerator.
Ellie stood alone in the night breeze. Soon, the man returned and dragged her toward the motel, cursing crudely, his words full of degradation.
But Ellie kept staring in the direction the black Rolls-Royce had disappeared.
The money Oliver had given her had been stolen by a man who had pretended to love her.
She had believed he truly wanted a life with her.
But two or three hundred million dollars had been gambled away behind her back.
Oliver's car pulled into the estate driveway.
Instead of going upstairs immediately, he sat on the living room sofa and lit a cigarette.
As pale blue smoke rose around him, he slowly surveyed his surroundings. The curtains had been changed—lighter now than the heavy drapes from before. Fresh blue hyacinths, Sarah's favorite flowers, adorned the living room and dining table.
Claire brought him a late-night snack.
She plucked the cigarette from his fingers. "Mrs. Windsor wouldn't approve! I worry less about you smoking yourself to death than about you making the children smell like an ashtray. I don't know how Mrs. Windsor tolerates it."
Oliver sniffed himself. "Do I smell?"
Claire pushed the plate into his hands. "You're just vain. Always dressed up like a butterfly. Those who know you understand you're trying to impress Mrs. Windsor, but strangers might mistake you for a male model from some nightclub."
"A nightclub employee, dressed this well?"
Oliver began eating with enthusiasm.
Halfway through his meal, he paused, staring at the pasta. "She's really back, isn't she, Claire?" he asked softly, repeating the question as if in disbelief.
His vulnerable tone broke Claire's heart.
She turned away, secretly wiping a tear. "Yes, Mrs. Windsor is home."
Oliver set down his fork.
He rose and headed upstairs, the crystal chandelier casting his sharp features in dramatic relief. As he ascended the stairs, it struck him—he had waited four long years for this moment.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
