Chapter 6 You bought all this...for me

Molly hummed softly as she scrubbed the kitchen counter, lost in the rhythmic motion. The morning had been peaceful, and the house was quiet-just the way she liked it. After nearly a week of working in Dylan's home, she had started to fall into a rhythm. She still tiptoed around him, wary of his moods, but something about him had begun to change.

He wasn't as cruel as he seemed that first day.

Not always.

The front doorbell rang, pulling her out of her thoughts. She quickly wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and walked to the door. Through the peephole, she saw a familiar silhouette-her mother.

"Mom?" Molly blinked, stepping outside. "What are you doing here?"

Her mother's face was lit with excitement. She reached for Molly's hands and squeezed them.

"I didn't want to wait until you came home," her mother said breathlessly. "I have the best news, my dear. Your father-he got a job!"

Molly's eyes widened. "What? Really?"

Her mother nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! A kind man who owns a logistics company offered him a position as a driver. He said your father reminded him of his late uncle-honest, strong, and determined."

Tears welled in Molly's eyes. "Oh, Mama..."

"I know things have been hard, Molly. And you've done more than anyone your age ever should just to keep us afloat. But maybe this is a new beginning."

Molly pulled her into a tight hug. For the first time in a long while, hope didn't feel like a cruel joke. It felt possible.

"Does Dad like the job?" she asked as they pulled away.

"He starts tomorrow," her mother said. "He's excited. And nervous. But mostly grateful. We both are. For everything you've done."

Molly wiped her tears. "Thank you for telling me. This means so much."

Her mother smiled warmly and touched her cheek. "Now go inside before your boss wonders where you ran off to."

Molly giggled and nodded. "I'll visit this weekend."

With another quick hug, her mother was gone.

Molly stood on the doorstep for a moment longer, breathing in the fresh air and holding onto that fluttering feeling in her chest. Things might actually be turning around.

Later that afternoon, the quiet hum of an engine outside signaled Dylan's return. Molly glanced at the clock-just past four. He was home early.

She peeked through the curtains and saw him stepping out of his black Mercedes, sunglasses pushed up onto his head. But what made her blink twice were the bags-lots of bags-he was carrying.

Designer bags. Shopping bags. Garment bags.

He struggled to open the door, so she rushed forward.

"Let me help you with that," she offered.

Dylan grunted, but didn't argue. "Careful. Some of this stuff is expensive."

He handed her two bags and walked in, placing the others on the living room table. Molly followed behind, a puzzled look on her face.

She watched as he began unpacking. Boxes of new shoes. Several elegant blouses, skirts, and trousers. Packs of underwear and bras, still wrapped in their delicate packaging. A soft pink robe. A brush set. Lotion. Shampoo. Even a set of floral-scented sanitary pads.

Her breath caught.

All of it... was for her.

"I-what is this?" she asked, stunned.

Dylan looked up at her, slightly awkward, rubbing the back of his neck. "You didn't have proper clothes. And I figured you could use better... stuff. You've been wearing that same uniform every day."

Molly's voice wavered. "You bought all this... for me?"

He shrugged. "It's not a big deal."

But it was.

To her, it was the biggest deal in the world.

"I-I don't know what to say," she whispered, tears welling again. "No one's ever done something like this for me."

Dylan cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. "Well, now someone has."

There was a long pause between them.

"Why?" she finally asked. "Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?"

Dylan sat down on the arm of the couch and looked at her, really looked at her. For the first time, she didn't seem like a servant. She seemed... soft. Vulnerable. Real.

"I guess," he said slowly, "because I've been watching you. You work hard. You don't complain. You're not like the women I'm used to."

She tilted her head. "Is that a good thing?"

"Very," he said, more softly than she expected. "You're the first person in a long time who's been around me without wanting anything in return."

Molly blinked. "But you pay me."

"Yeah, but... you don't act like I owe you the world. And you sure as hell don't throw tantrums like Vanessa."

She chuckled at that. "She didn't like me very much."

"She doesn't like anyone," Dylan said with a snort. "Especially anyone prettier than her."

Molly blushed. "I'm not-"

"You are," he interrupted, then looked away quickly. "Anyway. Don't make it weird."

She smiled despite herself. "Thank you, Dylan. Really. I don't know how to repay you."

"You don't need to repay me. Just-be comfortable. That's all."

Her eyes flickered to the couch, where she used to sleep before the guest room was ready.

"Can I... try them on? The clothes?"

He nodded. "Go ahead. They're yours now."

She picked up a few bags and disappeared down the hallway.

Dylan leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly.

He had no idea why he did all that shopping. It started with just the uniforms. Then he saw the robe. Then the body wash. Before he knew it, he'd spent nearly two hours in the mall picking out things he thought she'd need. Or like. Or deserve.

And the look on her face-pure shock, gratitude, and... warmth.

It was worth every penny.

Twenty minutes later, Molly emerged from the hallway wearing a pale lavender blouse tucked into a flowing cream skirt. Her hair was loose, brushing softly over her shoulders. She looked radiant.

Dylan's mouth went dry.

"Wow," he muttered.

She twirled shyly. "Do I look okay?"

"You look..." He paused. "Like someone who doesn't belong scrubbing my floors."

She laughed, covering her mouth. "Well, someone has to."

They stared at each other a moment too long.

Molly shifted her weight. "I also have good news."

"Yeah?"

"My dad got a job. As a driver for a logistics company."

Dylan sat up straighter. "No kidding?"

She beamed. "He starts tomorrow. My mom was so excited, she came here just to tell me. It's been a long time since we had something good happen."

Dylan nodded slowly. "That's... great. I'm happy for you."

She hesitated. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you always yell at people when you're scared?"

His eyes widened slightly. "What?"

"That day you hit me... I don't think you meant it. But you yelled a lot afterward. And then you gave me the ice."

Dylan exhaled, his usual arrogance fading. "I don't... handle fear well. Or guilt."

"You're not as mean as you pretend to be," she said.

He looked at her and smiled faintly. "Don't spread that around. I've got a reputation."

She giggled. "It's safe with me boss"

That evening, dinner was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Molly sat in the kitchen afterward, sipping tea and writing a letter to her parents.

Dylan walked in, stopped at the doorway, and simply watched her.

The way her lashes dipped when she focused. The curve of her smile when she reread a line. The lightness in her posture.

He realized something dangerous.

He liked her.

And not just as his maid.

But as a woman.

One who didn't ask for anything, yet deserved everything.

And just like that-Dylan Scott, the cold, sharp-tongued billionaire-was in trouble.