Chapter 126 Closure

Chapter 126 Closure
Three weeks had passed since Catherine's arrest. The news had spread too quickly to contain.

The Fairmont family had tried to bury it, of course. Money was thrown at lawyers, favors were called in, strings were pulled.

But the Harrington family had their own resources. And Rebecca, as it turned out, was far more patient than anyone had given her credit for.

The recording from the parking garage had been turned over to the authorities. The security footage. Marcus's testimony. Catherine's own words, caught on tape, confessing to everything—the drugs at the Fairmont lunch, the conspiracy with Henry, the attack on Audrey.

There was no escaping it.

The Fairmonts had tried. For weeks, they'd fought. But in the end, even they couldn't make attempted assault and conspiracy charges disappear.

Catherine was out on bail, awaiting trial. Her family had locked her away in their estate, hiding her from the press, from the scandal, from the ruin she'd brought upon herself.

Audrey hadn't thought about her in days.

This morning, the sun was warm on her face as she stepped onto the balcony, a cup of tea in her hands. The city stretched below her, glittering and alive, still waking up to a new day.

She heard him before she saw him—the soft pad of footsteps, the familiar weight of his presence.

Elliot's arms wrapped around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. He was still in his sleep shirt, his hair mussed, his body warm against her back.

"You're up early," she murmured.

"Couldn't sleep without you."

She smiled, leaning into him. "I was only gone ten minutes."

"Ten minutes too long."

She laughed softly, and he pressed a kiss to her neck. She shivered.

"The mail came," he said, nodding toward the table inside. "There's something for you."

She turned, curious. A cream-colored envelope sat on the coffee table, elegant calligraphy spelling out her name.

She walked over, picking it up. The paper was thick, expensive. The kind of paper that cost more than some people's rent.

She opened it carefully.

Mr. and Mrs. Bruce Miller request the pleasure of your company at the celebration of their marriage...

Audrey's breath caught.

She read the words again, then again, letting them sink in.

Bruce was getting married.

She scanned the invitation. The wedding was in three months. The venue was a small chapel in the countryside—not the grand cathedral she might have expected. It was intimate, personal.

And tucked inside was a small card, handwritten in Bruce's familiar scrawl.

Audrey,
I finally found what you have. I hope you're as happy as I am now. No regrets, okay? Just memories.

He's a lucky man. Take care of him.

Bruce

Elliot had come up behind her, reading over her shoulder. She could feel him go still.

"He's getting married," she said, not sure if she was telling him or convincing herself.

"So I see."

She turned to look at him. His expression was carefully neutral, but she knew him well enough now to see the slight tension in his jaw, the way his hands had slipped into his pockets.

"Are you okay with this?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because it's Bruce. Because you've never liked him."

Elliot was quiet for a moment. Then he reached out, taking the invitation from her hands. He studied it—the elegant calligraphy, Bruce's careful handwriting, the date of the wedding.

"He's marrying someone else," Elliot said slowly. "He's moving on."

"Yes."

He looked at her then, really looked, and something in his expression softened. "Are you okay with this?"

She considered the question. A year ago, the news might have sent her spinning. Bruce had been a constant in her life for so long—a safe harbor, a familiar face, a reminder of who she'd been before everything changed.

But now?

She thought of the woman who'd sent that invitation. Bruce's fiancée. Someone who made him happy enough to let go of the past.

"He deserves to be happy," she said finally. "And I have everything I need."

Elliot's hands came up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. "Do you?"

She smiled, rising on her toes to kiss him. Soft, sweet, and full of promise.

"I do."

He kissed her back, deeper, pulling her against him like he'd never let her go.

When they finally parted, he pressed his forehead to hers, his breath warm on her skin.

"We should send them a gift," he murmured. "Something nice. Something that says..." He paused, searching for the words.

Audrey laughed softly. "Thank you for letting go?"

"Exactly."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. "I already know what to get."

An hour later, they stood in a small shop in the old district, surrounded by handcrafted ceramics and delicate glassware. Audrey had found it years ago, tucked away on a side street, run by an elderly woman who made everything by hand.

Elliot looked around with the expression of a man who had never shopped anywhere that didn't have a personal stylist.

"Are you sure this is the place?" he asked, eyeing a slightly lopsided vase with something that might have been suspicion.

Audrey laughed, tugging him toward the back of the shop. "Trust me."

The shop owner, Mrs. Chen, appeared from behind a curtain, her face breaking into a wide smile when she saw Audrey.

"Ah! Mrs. Harrington!" She hurried over, taking Audrey's hands in hers. "I saw the press conference. You looked beautiful. So beautiful. And this must be—" She turned to Elliot, her eyes bright. "The famous husband."

Elliot looked momentarily startled. "Famous?"

"Oh yes," Mrs. Chen said, patting his arm. "She talks about you all the time. 'My husband this, my husband that.' I thought she was exaggerating." She stepped back, studying him. "But you're even handsomer than she said."

Elliot's ears turned slightly pink. Audrey bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

"We need a wedding gift," Audrey said quickly. "For a friend. Something special."

Mrs. Chen's eyes lit up. "I have just the thing."

She disappeared into the back, returning a moment later with a small box wrapped in silk.

"It's a pair of tea cups," she explained, opening the box carefully. "Hand-painted. One for him, one for her. See?" She pointed to the delicate designs—a mountain on one cup, a river on the other. "Together, they make a complete landscape. Separately, they're just... fragments."

Audrey touched the cups gently. They were beautiful. Simple. Perfect.

"This is it," she said, looking at Elliot. "This is what I want to send."

He studied the cups, then looked at her. Something shifted in his expression—something warm and quiet and deep.

"They're perfect," he said. "He'll understand."

They walked back to the car, hand in hand, the gift box tucked safely under Elliot's arm.

The streets were busy now, people rushing to work, to appointments, to lives that had nothing to do with them. Audrey watched them pass, feeling something she hadn't felt in a long time.

Peace.

"Elliot."

"Hm?"

She stopped walking, turning to face him. "Thank you."

He frowned slightly. "For what?"

"For not being jealous. For letting me have this. For..." She gestured vaguely. "For everything."

He looked at her for a long moment, then pulled her into his arms.

"I'm not jealous," he said quietly, "because he let you go. And I'm never letting you go." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "He's the one who lost. He knows it. I know it. You should know it too."

She smiled against his chest, feeling his heart beat steady and strong beneath her cheek.

"I know," she whispered.

He held her tighter.



That night, they sat on the balcony, watching the city lights flicker to life below them. The gift was wrapped, the card signed, the address confirmed. Tomorrow, it would be on its way to Bruce and his soon-to-be wife.

Audrey leaned against Elliot, his arm around her shoulders, her feet tucked up on the chair beside her.

"Do you think he'll be happy?" she asked quietly.

Elliot considered the question. "I think he'll try. And trying is most of it."

Audrey let the words settle.

In the distance, a plane crossed the sky, its lights blinking slowly against the stars. Somewhere up there, someone was flying home. Somewhere else, someone was leaving.

She thought of Bruce, of the years they'd shared, of the man he'd been and the man he was becoming. She hoped he found what he was looking for. She hoped she had, too.

She tilted her head, looking up at Elliot. "I love you."

He looked down at her, and his whole face softened.

"I love you too."

She kissed him then, soft and sweet, and he kissed her back like he meant to stay forever.