Chapter 33 ...Rewritten

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Oliver's eyes were beginning to cross as he stared at the shotgun point blank between his brows.

"You dared come back to my house?" Daniel's gruff voice drawled with danger, his finger tightening around the trigger. "You dared show me and my princess your filthy face after all that had left you stink-hole of a mouth, you freak! But did you think about the consequence, I ask?"

Standing behind Daniel, the army of Elli's burly brothers cracked their knuckles as they showed off their scary fists. Oliver was not ignorant of their desire to destroy his face.

Inside, Oliver might be a knot of terror at the moment, but on the outside he kept his cool - or tried to as much he could of it. He nodded with a sincere expression, his forehead scrapped against the shotgun's barrel as he did so. "I love your daughter, sir, and it's greater than any consequence you're suggesting." He glanced suggestively towards the shotgun.

However, that only made Daniel scowl more.

Jim grumbled behind Daniel while John demanded their father to let them just size Oliver up already. Only Misha was the one, who looked taken aback for a moment before he was seen discreetly fishing out a little notepad and a pen from his trouser's pocket, Oliver raised a brow seeing him scribbling down something stealthily.

Holy piss! The sleazeball was stealing his heartfelt lines for his novel.

Oliver sighed out loud, he needed to really and solely concentrate on not getting killed at the moment and nothing else, for he'd a more important job to do next.

"You've hurt her!" Daniel bellowed, his shotgun pressing further into his forehead. "And I'll be damned if I ever let you hurt her again."

Oliver's shoulders slumped, he was himself still mortified at the memories of how she'd looked when he threw those profane words at her face. It was like she was physically wounded, shocked and disgusted at what he made out of himself - a callous, mother-f*cking jerk. That had been the very moment he'd dug himself a grave bigger than any other in the history of graves.

"I agree," he whispered, then cleared his throat speaking louder this time, "I agree to everything you're saying and I know that I don't deserve Elli. But that doesn't change the truth that I love her and now I know she love's me too. And don't you all know that too?" saying that aloud made an involuntary smile, as soft as it could be, appear on his stinging, split lip - the result of Daniel discovering him inside the house waking up. "I swear on my mother's grave that I truly love her. Whatever shit that came out of my mouth yesterday truly didn't mean a thing... none of it. It was the shock..., and I'm truly, utterly sorry for that, for hurting her the way I did. But I'm determined to make it alright, and if she gives me a chance then I intend to make her and our child happy for the rest of our lives."

Daniel's scowl loosened into an expression of confusion. "Our child?"

"Oh, isn't it obvious yet?" Oliver beamed. "I've adopted the baby as mine," there was a moment of brief pause. "In my mind, for now. Later it'll be done properly after he or she's born."

Misha coughed, his notebook had been properly hidden a while back. "You're getting way too ahead of yourself, don't you think?"

Oliver shook head in negative. Then he turned grave. "But someone, at the moment, is getting way out of the safety rader while we're absorbed in this discussion. Let me get out of here now, or the flight Elli's going to board will leave and I assure you that she's been really planning on getting herself killed."

"You're over-exaggerating," John accused, crossing his arms. "Or lying, like always."

They would never forget about the cancer-misunderstanding thingy, would they?

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