Chapter 512 Elspeth: Nicholas's Daughter 3
Nicholas drove through the night to Oceancrest City.
He made the journey in his car through the deep winter night, with fine snow dancing across the sky. In the darkness that enveloped the world, all he could hear was Azalea's voice echoing: "Mr. Moore, I love you."
Outside, snow blanketed the world in white. Inside the car, he hadn't turned on the heat. In the bitter cold of the winter night, Nicholas wore only a shirt. His body was numb with cold, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart.
He didn't understand his feelings for Azalea. He had never examined them closely before. All his life, his love and hatred had been directed at others. But now, those words—"Mr. Moore, I love you.'—thundered in his ears, refusing to fade.
Five hours later, Nicholas's car stopped in front of the small villa. A thin layer of snow had accumulated at the front door.
Snow was falling in Oceancrest City, just as it was everywhere else. It seemed as if even Nicholas's heart was blanketed in white. He took out the key, opened the garden gate, and stepped slowly into Azalea's world.
The garden was filled with camellias, their petals red as flames. Beneath the eaves, pale pink glass lanterns hung—not as precious as those at the Moore family estate, but each one delicate and lovely, chiming sweetly in the breeze.
Nicholas stood beneath the covered walkway, looking up at the glass lanterns in silence. Without realizing it, tears streamed down his face.
That fool.
When he had spoken of glass lanterns, his heart had been filled with love for another woman. But this fool had listened. She thought he liked them, so she had transformed this place into what she imagined he wanted. She had made this their home, never knowing he wanted her dead.
The key turned in the lock. Nicholas gently pushed open the door. The house had been empty for over a month, and in the damp winter night, it carried the faint scent of dust.
Inside, everything was familiar because he had described it to her. Dark wood furniture with gold trim. On a pine shelf sat a flat, round glass fishbowl containing two small red carp, still swimming freely despite not having their water changed for over a month.
A small sign beside it bore a single line: [Nicholas & Azalea.]
Nicholas looked up, suppressing the desolation in his heart. He fed the fish and went upstairs.
The second floor had a simple layout: two suites on the east and west sides—one where Azalea had lived, and one prepared for their future child. Azalea's suite included a study.
She didn't love reading, but an entire wall of the study was lined with books—all titles he usually read.
In her bedroom were tiny clothes for a baby, pink ones that suggested a little girl, along with children's toys.
Nicholas picked one up. He shook it gently, and the little drum made a cheerful sound, but all he heard was: "Mr. Moore, I love you. I want to be with you forever."
Nicholas fell ill.
He sat motionless in that house for an entire day and night, taking neither food nor water. He lay on the bed where Azalea had slept, holding clothes she had worn, consumed by regret.
His mind could think of nothing else but how Azalea had looked before she died—her discarded clothes, her body lying in a pool of blood in the darkness like a blooming crimson rose.
In the evening, Oliver sent him a photograph—a blurry image that was impossible to make out clearly. Oliver's message read: [Azalea was pregnant when she jumped. This is the medical examiner's report.]
This news completely destroyed Nicholas.
His phone slipped from his hand as he stared blankly, unable to think. Suddenly, he began beating his head violently, pounding his chest, but the physical pain couldn't diminish the guilt in his soul. He gasped frantically before letting out an animal-like howl.
Nicholas collapsed heavily to the floor. Lying there with his eyes half-open, from this angle he could see the two red carp swimming in the transparent fishbowl.
When he awoke, he was in a hospital—a sterile white room filled with the faint scent of antiseptic, with Hestia sitting beside his bed, watching him thoughtfully.
When her husband opened his eyes, her expression remained neither sad nor happy as she stated calmly: "Two months ago, you encountered her by chance. You couldn't forget her past betrayal and deception, so you manipulated her and used me to drive her to death.
"Yes, I did hate her.
"I hated her shamelessness, I hated her for stealing my husband, I hated her for being with you again.
"I had every reason to hate her. But you're different.
"Nicholas, when you took revenge on her, you never considered that she had borne you a child, that she sent the umbilical cord blood to Evergreen City to save our son. Even when she jumped, she was carrying your child again.
"Two lives lost.
"Nicholas, I don't feel vindicated. I only find you terrifyingly heartless. In this entire affair, you've wronged not just Azalea, but me as well!"
Hestia paused for two seconds before speaking softly, "Nicholas, let's divorce. I don't want to continue this charade. I don't want to become a hysterical woman, and I don't want Verity and Isaac to be scarred by our dysfunction. They've already been affected enough."
Perhaps she was being selfish. What had prompted this decision? Probably learning that Azalea had been pregnant again. That foolish woman probably didn't know—otherwise, for the child's sake, she would have chosen to live.
But she didn't know.
As Hestia walked out, she thought, 'Life and death are matters of fate, not choice.'
She didn't want to remain trapped in a loveless marriage for another day.
As she grasped the door handle, Nicholas's voice came from behind her. He agreed. He said she could take both children, and he would provide financial support.
Hestia wept quietly.
She knew his generosity stemmed from guilt over another woman. The Nicholas of today was spiritually dead, a walking corpse.
After a moment, she quietly agreed.
As she walked out, her heels clicked against the cold tiles, her thin stockings offering no warmth against the bone-deep chill. Hestia walked slowly down the long corridor that seemed to mirror her marriage to Nicholas—long and cold.
It should have ended long ago.
All her reluctance had come from her last vestige of hope for him. His getting Azalea pregnant again had become the tombstone of their marriage. There was no going back—they couldn't continue even if they forced themselves.
At the end of the corridor lay light.
With tears on her face, Hestia looked at the morning sun through the glass window and smiled bitterly.
In this tragedy, there were no winners.
Two days later, Nicholas had recovered physically.
As night fell, he drove alone to a remote cemetery. It didn't take long to find Azalea's grave. The white headstone bore black letters:
"In Loving Memory of
Azalea
Beloved Mother of Elspeth"
So his and Azalea's child was named Elspeth.
Where was she?
Driven by madness, Nicholas pried open the stone slab and retrieved the black box. In the darkness, the once-bright red rose was now just a cold little box, resting quietly in his arms.
Only now, she could never again say, "Mr. Moore, I love you.'
Nicholas didn't understand his obsession. He only knew he wanted to make amends, to compensate, to not leave her alone in the cold cemetery. He wanted to bring her back to the home she had made for them.
He turned on the car's heat and drove south to Oceancrest City, returning to the villa Azalea had prepared.
He had a sign bearing the name 'Azalea' made for the door. The glass lanterns beneath the eaves were taken down and replaced with protective charms he had once obtained for Elspeth, their soft rustling now mingling with the wind.
He lived there for three days.
For Azalea's ashes, he set up a small shrine and invited a priest to recite prayers, but every night, sleep brought him the same nightmare:
In his dreams, Azalea was mournful and full of resentment, slipping out of her red dress before throwing herself into the void.
Nicholas would wake drenched in cold sweat, the only company by his bedside the two little fish circling endlessly in their bowl.
When he returned to Evergreen City, Hestia had already moved out of the Moore Mansion with the children.
The bedroom felt more than half empty.
Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed, quietly smoking two cigarettes before rising to go outside. He wanted to see the child.
He wasn't stupid—he suspected the child was with Calliope. Otherwise, Octavius wouldn't know so much.
As the New Year approached, Calliope, with her fondness for opulence, had transformed the house with lavish décor.
When Sarah came to visit Elspeth, she admitted her own place wasn't half as grand.
Calliope held the child lovingly, unable to put her down. But she didn't forget to dote on Nicole, giving her a gift and fragrant kisses.
Nicole was affectionate with her for quite a while.
Calliope smiled and said, "Spending our first New Year in Evergreen City, we have to celebrate it properly. I'm planning to host a ball so everyone knows I've gained a lovely daughter. If anyone asks about the child, I'll say she's Octavius's and mine. He can hardly claim to be infertile!"
Sarah smiled inwardly.
Calliope lowered her eyes. "I'm only doing this because he forced me to. In all our years of marriage, he's done so many things to wrong me. Using him once is only fair."
Sarah had heard that Octavius wanted to reconcile. She admired Calliope but couldn't say so directly, only offering: "Just be careful not to provoke him too much."
Calliope was confident. "After all these years, I know his temperament inside and out."
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
"Madam, a Mr. Moore is here to see you."
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