Chapter 750 Elliot's Early Marriage 4
Just before the New Year, Elliot moved out of the Windsor Mansion and into a new home with Molly.
Oliver approved wholeheartedly. "About time you moved out. Stop intruding on your mother and me. We deserve our peace."
Elliot hauled a massive suitcase with one hand and, with the other, hooked an arm around Diana, shoving her toward Oliver. "Dad, you should regret having a third kid. Too late to put her back now."
Oliver frowned. "Can you at least take your sister with you?"
Elliot shifted the suitcase onto his shoulder. "Dad, Molly and I want our own world too. You and Mom can bear with Diana for a while. Once she's married, you'll finally have your real two-person paradise. And you won't have to raise any of our kids."
Oliver laughed and cursed under his breath, watching Elliot leap into his black Range Rover with practiced ease, driving off toward his fiancée. A flicker of melancholy crossed his face. He still remembered the year Elliot was born—how tight money had been, how fiercely he'd fought against Matthew, that old bastard.
And now, Elliot was starting a family of his own.
The house was his wedding gift to Molly, the deed in her name. If anyone had to leave in the future, it would be Elliot packing his bags back to them. Molly had no family of her own, and both he and Sarah were determined to cherish her more.
Sometimes Oliver thought about it—both his daughters-in-law had endured more than their share of hardship. At least they'd married his sons, and the rest of their lives would be better. The thought made him quietly proud, almost smug.
Sarah caught his expression and knew exactly what he was thinking.
A winter dusk settled over the city.
Elliot eased the car into the driveway of their villa. The place had been fully renovated for months, but they hadn't hired live-in staff. It was just the two of them, with Clio occasionally sending a cleaner for a few hours. Every meal was Molly's doing, while Elliot handled other chores.
The moment he stepped out of the car, the scent of home-cooked food wrapped around him—warm, rich, and inviting. Molly was in the kitchen, wearing an apron, her long hair pinned up loosely with a clip, leaving the pale line of her neck exposed—an irresistible invitation for him to kiss.
He slid an arm around her waist, leaning in like a man who knew she'd let him. "You're really inviting Blake over here?"
Molly found it amusing but kept her face calm. "Yes. Your father said this house is mine, so I can invite whoever I want."
Elliot nuzzled closer. "Couldn't you just meet him somewhere else?"
This was their home—private, intimate. Molly caught the thought behind his words and smiled. "Aren't you the one who loves showing off? Let him see our place. Isn't that exactly what you'd want?"
Elliot paused, thought about it, and realized she had a point.
Still clinging to her, he murmured, "Molly, you're too good to me."
She bit back a laugh and kept working. The dishes were simple, but they carried a quiet weight—her way of sending Blake off.
Yes, Blake was leaving the country. He had quit the entertainment industry.
When he announced it, his fans had flooded his account with heartbreak, but his decision was final. He'd said goodbye to Molly and would be gone before the New Year, heading to Andoria with Serenity.
Molly had invited him for dinner, though Serenity wasn't in Evergreen City. Molly had bought her a gift anyway.
Elliot was still hanging off her when she finally gave him something to do. "Go set the dining room. I bought fresh flowers—put them in a vase, then lay out the plates and glasses."
Elliot turned her around, stole a kiss, and went to work.
The dining room was expansive—over sixteen hundred square feet—luxurious and gleaming under the crystal chandelier.
He trimmed the pale lilac stems of the lisianthus, arranging them carefully in the vase. The color pulled him back to a memory of Molly in her old apartment—cornered, humiliated, and far too alone.
His chest tightened. Regret, guilt, and gratitude tangled in his thoughts. He was thankful she had still chosen him. Without her patience, they would never have reached this quiet happiness.
He thought of that photograph again—the one that haunted his dreams. Sometimes he woke in the middle of the night, turned to see her sleeping beside him, and held her as if she might vanish. He feared it could all dissolve, that she might still be that fragile girl from the past.
Elliot rarely cried. But there had been one night, long ago, when he had cried for Molly.
The sound of a car pulling up outside broke through his thoughts. The melancholy vanished in an instant. He straightened his collar, ready to greet his former rival.
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