Chapter 736 Rest Easy, I'm Walking Away
Molly's face had gone completely pale.
The young woman took the flowers from her hands, lifted them to her nose, and inhaled deeply. Then she turned toward Elliot with a bright smile. "They're purple lisianthus—my favorite. Elliot, how did you know?"
Her tone was warm, familiar, the kind that only comes from knowing someone for a while.
Humiliation burned through Molly. She had no courage to stay—not for another second. If she did, she would suffocate.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. "The flowers are delivered. I'll be going now."
The young woman thanked her, flashing a sweet smile.
Molly walked away quickly.
It wasn't until she was inside the elevator that her tears finally fell. She knew, with painful clarity, that there would soon be a mistress of this apartment—and it would not be her. She would never set foot here again. She would not allow herself to destroy someone else's happiness.
The red numbers above the elevator door counted down floor by floor.
When it reached the ground level, the doors slid open—and she froze. A tall, broad-shouldered figure blocked her way. The clothes were familiar. She looked up, and her breath caught.
Elliot.
Wasn't he upstairs with his girlfriend? Why had he come down?
He stood in the doorway, his voice low, "Come to my car. We'll talk there."
Molly stayed rooted in place for a few seconds. Elliot took a few steps, then turned back to look at her, waiting in silence. Only then did she move, her legs feeling impossibly heavy.
Today, Elliot was driving a sky-blue Rolls-Royce Phantom. Molly guessed the color was chosen for that girl's sake.
Once inside the car, Molly said nothing.
Elliot sat down, reached into the console, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, lowered the window, and exhaled a slow stream of pale smoke. The silence in the car was suffocating.
After a long pause, he spoke in an even tone. "She's a prospective match in a business alliance. We've been seeing each other for a week. It's going well."
Molly understood. This was the end.
She did not cry. She did not plead. After seeing that girl, she could not even blame him.
Who wouldn't like someone with a smile as bright and sweet as hers?
They looked perfect together.
She turned her face toward the window. Outside, shop windows glowed with Valentine's Day promotions. That was when she remembered—they had already spent one Valentine's Day together. He hadn't bought flowers or gifts, but they had stayed in the apartment all day, doing all the things couples do.
She told herself she should be grateful for that much.
Turning back to him, she forced a small smile. She even wished him well, adding that she probably wouldn't be able to attend the wedding—it wouldn't be appropriate.
Elliot had prepared his words, but they suddenly felt pointless.
Molly didn't cling. He had expected her to—he knew she liked him, knew she had treated that apartment as her home. That was why he had brought another woman there, to force her to see for herself. He hadn't known how to say the words, so he let the scene speak for him.
Now it was over.
Something shifted in his chest, but he told himself it was the right decision. He could never forgive what she had done in the past. So be it.
Before she left, he wrote her a check—fifty million dollars, the last payment.
Molly looked down at it, then said softly, "Thank you, Mr. Windsor. I'll go now. Have someone clear out the hotel and the apartment. I don't want anything."
Elliot kept his silence. He watched her step out of the car, the spring sunlight catching in her hair, turning it to threads of gold.
She walked on without looking back, her figure thinning in the glare until she was no more than a shadow, then nothing at all.
A dull ache spread behind his eyes. Somewhere deep inside, he knew Molly had carried away the whole of his youth.
"Goodbye, Molly," he murmured.
Perhaps fate was always this cruel—quiet, and without mercy.
On the very day they parted, Magnolia suffered a sudden cerebral hemorrhage and passed away. The funeral claimed Molly's hands and hours, while her grief for love sat in the shadows, waiting.
That apartment felt like a fairy tale from another lifetime.
After Magnolia's funeral, Molly traveled to a remote, impoverished region.
The money she had once set aside to help Elliot start his company no longer had a purpose. Elliot had found someone new. Bringing him that money now would only feel like clinging, and he certainly did not need it.
Instead, she donated one hundred and fifty million dollars, earmarked for five thousand students living in extreme poverty.
It was not just tuition she covered—she provided aid for their families as well. Standing among those children, seeing their thin faces and wary eyes, she caught glimpses of herself on that long-ago day when rain came down in sheets.
By the time the money was gone, it felt as if a weight she had carried for years had finally lifted.
On the train back to Evergreen City, she ran into Blake.
He looked like he had been traveling—sunglasses on, tall and broad-shouldered, the kind of man who stood out in any crowd. By coincidence, they ended up in the same carriage, Car 1.
Molly was carrying a bag of eggs, a gift from one of the parents she had helped. She was dressed simply: a plain sweater, white sneakers, her hair cut to fall straight at her shoulders. There was a quiet, unadorned purity about her.
Blake studied her for a moment before speaking softly. "You went to help students in the mountains, didn't you?"
Molly nodded.
She had always kept her distance from people in the entertainment industry, and Blake was no exception. Leaning back in her seat, she closed her eyes, intending to rest. But to her surprise, Blake was warmer than usual.
His gaze lingered on her hair. "Thinking about leaving the industry?"
She did not deny it. Her contract had six months left, and when it ended, she planned to walk away. She would find a small city, buy a modest house, maybe a dog, and live a quiet life.
She told him this in her calm, understated way.
Blake watched her in silence, then said, "Give me your address when you do."
Molly said nothing.
She was no longer the naïve girl she once had been, and there was a current in Blake's gaze that had nothing to do with friendship. But he had not said it outright, which made it harder to refuse.
For the two-hour ride, Blake did not sleep. Molly, exhausted, drifted off, her face soft and unguarded in sleep. Blake's eyes kept returning to her, glancing away to the passing scenery, only to find their way back to her again.
She had spent a week in the mountains. Returning to Evergreen City, the noise and glitter felt almost foreign. She had not arranged for anyone to pick her up, but Blake's driver was there. Blake offered her a ride, saying it was on his way.
He was a senior in the industry, and it felt impolite to refuse.
In the back seat, Molly sat quietly, watching the blur of traffic beyond the glass. Near her apartment, Blake spoke, his tone even. "You broke up with him, didn't you?"
She turned to look at him, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. Blake held her gaze and asked again.
After a pause, she said, "Yes. We were not right for each other."
Blake only nodded.
After that, he began appearing in her life now and then. Sometimes they crossed paths on set; sometimes, she saw him in the same remote regions she visited.
Spring passed into summer, and summer into autumn.
She and Elliot no longer crossed paths. He did not seek revenge, and she did not dwell on him. They lived in the same city like parallel lines, never touching.
She'd heard the last woman he'd met through an arranged date hadn't worked out, and that he'd kept showing up for more, one after another.
On the eve of Halloween, Blake called and invited her to dinner.
They were friends now. Blake was a good man, with a polite warmth in private. Molly was alone, and she needed friends.
She said yes.
On Halloween night, she wore a pale lavender dress and carried a bouquet of lilies home to tend. Moving through the crowd, her simple appearance drew no recognition—no one guessed she was Molly, the actress.
She had not expected Blake to bring someone else. His mother was there.
Even Molly, with her quiet reserve, understood what that meant.
He was courting her with marriage in mind.
Blake came from a wealthy family. He was a graduate of a prestigious school and, in an industry full of artifice, remarkably untainted. Molly felt unworthy of him, and when she saw his mother, she froze for just a moment.
Serenity Wright was warm and gracious. She knew her son's feelings and addressed Molly by name. She had even brought a gift—two boxes of homemade pastries. She explained that she lived in the South, but Blake had called her up a few days ago, asking her to meet someone important. He had worried about startling her.
Serenity was that kind of kind.
For someone like Molly, who had grown up without family warmth, it was hard to turn away from it. She knew that if she said yes to Blake, she would have a home.
Just then, two people stepped into the upscale restaurant—it was Elliot and Diana.
Diana had returned to the country, and the two were out for dinner. By sheer misfortune, they saw Molly with Blake—and with a poised, elegant woman who could only be Blake's mother.
Elliot's gaze cooled. He did not pretend not to know her. He walked straight to her table and asked, "You're seeing him?"
Diana stared, caught off guard.
When she recovered, she pulled out her phone and sent a message to the family group chat: [Elliot just ran into his first love. She's meeting her future mother-in-law. This is wild.]
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