MainNovelChapter 1583:
“Thank you, Mr. Holland.” Ernest smiled and then glanced toward Elissa. “About our wedding plans...” he said
casually, yet his voice carried weight. “I've been prepared for this moment from the beginning. I'm ready.”
Addy blinked, caught off guard, before turning his gaze toward his granddaughter.
Across the table, Elissa was in mid-sip of her soup. At Ernest’s words, she choked on the spoonful, coughing as
her eyes flew to him in disbelief.
“Easy now,” Ernest said with a gentle chuckle, leaning in slightly. “Careful—you’re always this clumsy, aren't
you?”
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtErnest handed Elissa a napkin with quiet care, and then turned back to Addy as though the interruption hadn't
fazed him.
“I'm a few years older than Elissa,” he said calmly. “At my age, marriage isn’t something | take lightly. | should be
thinking seriously about it... Believewhen | say | know exactly what | want—but | won't rush her. It has to be
her decision as well.”
Addy let out a strained chuckle, still processing Ernest's earlier declaration. He nodded slowly. “It’s a big
decision. You're right not to take it lightly.”
“Exactly, Mr. Holland!” Ernest agreed, a hint of solemnity settling into his voice. “Elissa’s last marriage... left its
mark. She has every reason to be cautious.” He turned toward Elissa briefly—his gaze steady, reassuring. “I
understand. I'm not in a hurry.”
His words fell like thunder in the silent room. Everyone at the table could hear the subtext loud and clear. He
knew about Elissa’s past, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t walking away—he was standing by her.
Louisa stiffened, and Bonnie's face flushed. They exchanged a glance, this twithout smugness. Neither spoke
again.
“That's good to know.” Addy’s eyes softened with rare approval. “Mr. Flynn, please, eat more. Don’t be shy.”
“Thank you, Mr. Holland.”
Every story starts at gvInov[Js{Jom
After dinner, Addy asked Elissa to join him in his study—there were a few personal matters he wanted to discuss.
Back in the living room, Ernest sat on the couch, quietly reviewing work reports on his phone. His brow furrowed
slightly, attention focused.
“Mr. Flynn.” Bonnie stood beside him with a practiced smile, holding a plate of neatly arranged fruit. “Is it alright
if | sit with you for a bit?”
She asked sweetly, expecting the polite nod she usually received from men. After all, few ever refused her. But
Ernest didn’t even glance up as he said, “I'd rather you didn’t.” His voice was cold, clipped, and unapologetically
firm.
Bonnie froze. She hadn't expected that from him. Not with her charm. Still, she stood there, the fruit plate
trembling slightly in her hands, unwilling to retreat in humiliation.
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