Chapter 492 Husband and Wife Reunion 4
Azalea stayed to celebrate New Year's Eve with the family.
At seven in the evening, Claire directed the staff as they served dinner. The great hall held two round tables—one for Claire, Oliver, Sarah, and the children, and another for the household staff and gardeners.
Both tables featured identical dishes, with a generous red envelope placed at each setting.
This had been Sarah's idea.
She had explained to Oliver, "Even though they receive overtime pay for working the holiday, it seems rather cold to have them working on the most important family day of the year, eating alone in the kitchen. Let's celebrate together—they'll be more dedicated in their service afterward."
Since their reconciliation, Sarah had managed all household affairs.
Oliver had simply replied, "You know best how to reward and discipline."
And so, two lively tables were arranged.
The staff, grateful to Sarah and generally content in their work, came forward one by one to offer toasts.
Oliver naturally intercepted them.
Not wanting to diminish their gesture, he stood with a smile. "My wife is pregnant and shouldn't drink. I'll accept your toasts on her behalf."
Oliver poured himself three full glasses and drained them all, feeling utterly content.
All the splendor and romantic encounters of his past paled in comparison to this moment of pure satisfaction.
He wasn't drunk—he remembered giving Jacob and Nicole their bonuses, lighting fireworks in the courtyard, and acknowledging every smiling face and blessing throughout the estate.
Yet somehow he was intoxicated enough to be sprawled across their bed by ten o'clock, his body pleasantly warm, unwilling to move. He murmured softly, calling Sarah's name.
In a few hours, a new year would begin.
Downstairs, Sarah and Azalea watched the fireworks illuminate the sky, exchanging quiet feminine conversation.
Unexpectedly, Azalea asked softly, "How is he doing?"
Sarah was momentarily stunned.
It took her a moment to realize whom Azalea was asking about.
She didn't know how to explain the complicated history with the Moore family, nor could she bring herself to mention Nicholas's suicide attempt. She knew Azalea had feelings for Nicholas—what woman would willingly carry a man's child without some emotional attachment?
Sarah's silence told Azalea everything she needed to know.
Her expression darkened.
The mood grew somber.
Nicole ran over and gently hugged Sarah, her voice soft, "Mommy, Jacob and I want to see Daddy."
Sarah glanced upstairs.
Azalea, ever tactful, said, "Please don't let me keep you, Mrs. Windsor. I'll retire soon myself."
So the two children followed Sarah upstairs.
In the bedroom, a reading lamp cast a gentle glow. Oliver looked softer in sleep, his usually sharp features relaxed.
Jacob and Nicole positioned themselves on either side of him.
Jacob, being a boy, showed some shyness, but Nicole was more affectionate. She pressed her little face against her father's and gave him a wet kiss, leaving saliva on his cheek.
This woke their father.
He gathered both children to his chest. Though his body still felt pleasantly warm and he was reluctant to move, he chatted with the children for a while.
Nicole, in her sweet way, announced she wanted to sleep with Mommy and Daddy tonight.
Oliver was about to agree when he remembered Sarah's promise from earlier that evening. He wasn't about to forfeit that reward.
With gentle persuasion and a few white lies, he convinced them otherwise.
Nicole ran off clutching her small pillow. "Daddy doesn't love me anymore."
Oliver lay back, laughing softly.
Jacob followed his sister out, helping his parents by taking her to his room and offering her plenty of candy.
In the master bedroom, the light created a warm ambiance.
Sarah knelt beside the bed with a hot towel, wiping Oliver's body. The alcohol had left him warm to the touch, especially around his neck where the skin had flushed red and developed small bumps—the very picture of mature masculine allure.
Sarah's towel glided gently over that spot.
Oliver's Adam's apple involuntarily bobbed several times.
Sarah asked softly, "You only had a few drinks tonight. How did you get so tipsy?"
"Because I'm happy," Oliver replied.
He gazed at Sarah, captivated by her beauty in the lamplight.
Their fingers intertwined.
His voice grew hoarse with emotion, "Sarah, you don't know how happy I am tonight."
She cradled his face, gazing deeply into his eyes before gently kissing his handsome, thin lips.
While passion burned in the Windsor home, the Moore residence remained cold as winter.
Nicholas was still in the hospital.
He remained troubled, his body never fully recovering from his wrist-cutting attempt. Though Matthew resented his weakness, he hadn't given up on his grandson.
Matthew spoke to him about current affairs and Nicholas's future path—topics that held little interest for Nicholas, who listened distractedly.
A knock came at the door. "Mr. Moore, someone sent flowers. May I bring them in?"
Grandfather and grandson were deep in conversation and didn't immediately respond, so the nurse entered carrying a bouquet of lilies. Their fresh fragrance immediately filled the room.
Nicholas's expression changed instantly. "Who sent those? Take them away!"
He was allergic to lilies—at best they would make him miserable; at worst, they could kill him.
The nurse froze, then stammered, "Mr. Windsor from the Windsor Group sent them with wishes for your speedy recovery!"
Nicholas shouted, "Get them out now!"
The nurse hurriedly removed the flowers.
In the VIP hospital room, Nicholas's pollen allergy triggered an immediate asthma attack.
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