Chapter 745 Molly, I Came for You 2
The internet exploded.
M&E Technology's Elliot had publicly confirmed his relationship, boldly acknowledging his connection to Molly. Now everyone was camping under M&E Technology's official account, waiting for Elliot's response, waiting for Molly's interaction.
The story of the year.
Not just entertainment news—finance, tech, every industry connected to the Windsor family hit the headlines. Jacob's, Taylor's, and Avery's romantic histories were all exposed, along with Oliver's less-than-glorious past. Henry and Amelia probably had the cleanest reputations left.
The entire internet was buzzing with gossip. Eight trending topics in one day. The attention was staggering.
Endless Echoes suddenly gained twelve additional distribution partners.
Walter was practically bouncing off the walls at home, calling Celine to gloat, "How about that? You see my luck, right? Nobody else dared publicly support Molly, just me. It's not about having guts—it's about having a conscience. I couldn't stand watching such a decent actress get framed! I told you Mr. Windsor's eyes weren't innocent when he looked at Molly."
Celine let out a cold laugh. "Oh, you're such a visionary."
Despite her sarcasm, Celine was genuinely grateful. When Walter offered Molly another role, Celine agreed without hesitation and didn't even negotiate a higher fee. She said the rest would come as profit-sharing for Molly.
Walter agreed immediately. Both parties were satisfied.
After hanging up, Celine stood alone in the empty hallway, overwhelmed by the moment. This company had barely a hundred employees total, and sixty had quit over the Molly situation. The place felt like a ghost town.
Celine pressed a tissue to her nose and cursed, "Those bastards. Even if they came crawling back on their knees, I wouldn't take them. Rats jumping ship at the first sign of trouble."
The thought actually made her feel vindicated.
When Molly's scandal broke, so many people had kicked her while she was down. Thank God, Molly Elliot still held a candle for Molly.
Come to think of it, Molly was a genuinely kind person, and naturally, luck favored her. She met Blake, and—most importantly—she donated over a hundred million dollars, earning his goodwill.
All of this felt like the universe's way of rewarding the goodwill she had built over the years.
Celine smiled, then teared up. Getting older made her more sentimental.
Thirty minutes later, Elliot posted his official response: [With Molly, love began in youth and will walk beside us through every tomorrow.]
The internet went wild again.
[I only hate that I'm not Molly.]
[Elliot must truly love her. Back when she was younger and smoked, she looked effortlessly cool, with a kind of beautifully reckless charm.]
But Molly didn't reply to Elliot. She replied to the fans instead: [Smoking never does anyone any good.]
Molly was trending again. This time the hashtag was #Molly Says Smoking Is Bad. In under an hour, it reached 600 million views with over 200,000 comments from 98,000 users. That day alone, Molly gained 5.2 million followers—a staggering number.
Overnight, Molly had become the most famous actress in the country.
Celine's phone wouldn't stop ringing. Everyone wanted Molly for endorsements—luxury goods, even baby formula, diapers, and bottles. Celine was breathless trying to keep up.
Molly still hadn't replied to Elliot.
On this winter night, the streets were filled with Santa Clauses handing out gifts.
Elliot's car pulled up outside Molly's building. He sat inside for about a minute before opening the door and walking toward the elevator lobby. During the short ride up, he replayed every moment he'd shared with Molly. Except for her initial deception, he had been the one treating her badly all along.
But he could feel it clearly—she still loved him. He had always been the one holding back.
Unable to let go, yet unwilling to forgive.
He rang Molly's doorbell. Her assistant peered through the peephole, opened the door, and whispered, "Molly's been alone all afternoon, barely speaking. I didn't want to disturb her."
Elliot asked her to leave.
The assistant grabbed her purse and left. It was Christmas night—she could still make it to a date.
Elliot quietly closed the door and looked toward Molly by the floor-to-ceiling windows. She was curled up on the sofa, staring out at the dark night, lost in thought.
He didn't startle her. Instead, he walked over quietly and wrapped his arms around her from behind, his voice rough, "I'm sorry."
He didn't explain why he was apologizing.
Celine had given him a photograph.
Celine had told him it showed the real Molly—someone who had suffered more than he could imagine, whose background was far more tragic and desperate than he'd ever known. If he truly cared for her, he needed to step forward. If he didn't, Celine would stay by Molly's side forever.
That photograph had hit Elliot like a sledgehammer.
Ten-year-old Molly, stripped of her shirt by a gang of girls, standing in an alley with her fragile little body exposed, her eyes filled with nothing but confusion and terror.
Elliot had burned the photograph.
No one would ever see it again. Not even Molly herself.
Elliot drew Molly closer, her frail frame trembling against him. In that moment, the anger and wounded pride of his youth felt small, almost laughable. Whatever she had done to him no longer mattered. Compared to the shadows of her childhood, his own life had been blessed beyond measure.
He wished he could give her some of that light.
Molly shifted as if to pull away, but he held her fast. His lips brushed the curve of her ear, and for an instant she reminded him of a frightened fawn.
"Don't move," he murmured. "Let me hold you."
Molly trembled in his embrace. She whispered, "Why?"
"No reason. Molly, I've pushed away your feelings so many times. Each time, I knew deep down we still had a chance. But this time I know—if I don't come to you now, I'll never have another opportunity. Also, I don't want you to be hurt anymore."
After saying this, Elliot fell silent, simply holding Molly tightly.
Molly felt like she was dreaming.
Her reputation was ruined, her career destroyed, but she had Elliot.
But Elliot didn't see it that way. His life had been hers from the start—every heartbeat, every breath. No one else had ever found a place in him. He belonged to Molly, utterly.
He had no interest in simply dating her. He wanted to marry her without delay, to wear her name like a badge, to let the world know she was his.
From now on, no one would dare hurt Molly.
He would take every blow before it reached her.
Outside the apartment, Molly's nose was pink from the cold. She turned to Elliot, her breath curling in the night air. "But when we go out, people will point and whisper that you're with some delinquent girl."
Elliot slipped his hands deeper into his pockets. "Diana smoked in secret when she was little too, and Dad said she had his spirit. Our family's not that conservative. As for everyone else—if they don't like it, that's their problem, not ours."
A firework burst overhead, spilling gold and crimson across the winter sky.
The light washed over Molly's face. She gazed at him—the same Elliot she had loved since she was young.
After a long pause, she slid her hand into his coat pocket, her fingers brushing his. Her voice was soft, almost shy.
"I've quit smoking," she said.
Elliot broke into a brilliant smile.
He walked her out like that—arm around her, in full view of the crowd—unbothered as phones came up to capture the moment.
Towering over her, he drew her close, his frame a shield against the winter wind. Whenever she didn't want to face the cameras, she could simply hide her face against his chest.
Above them, fireworks bloomed and faded in waves of color.
On the sidewalk, men in Santa suits handed out gifts. Molly got one as well—though she thought the real present was the man beside her.
They wandered down the street, sharing a sandwich Molly hadn't been able to afford in years. Elliot had never tasted anything like it, but found it unexpectedly good. She pressed a bottle of yogurt into his hands, and he drank it without complaint.
By the end of the night, photos of their date were already making the rounds online—most of them showing Molly tucked safely in Elliot's arms.
In every shot, his face was unmistakable.
At the Windsor Mansion.
Oliver had been glued to the entertainment news, watching clip after clip of Elliot and Molly's picture-perfect romance.
"You wouldn't believe it," he told Sarah. "Everyone online says they're the sweetest couple. But honestly? Compared to us back in the day? Please. It's all staged."
Sarah, trimming the stems of fresh flowers, didn't even look up. "Sweet? Was that ever us? I remember regret. Tears. And the knife I hid at Windcrest."
Oliver fell silent.
At their age, you'd think they could manage a civil conversation—maybe even remember a few good moments. But no.
He wondered, not for the first time, if running away from home might finally make her worry herself sick.
Sarah glanced at him sideways, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Among their children, she thought, only Diana was still single.
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