Chapter 124: Divorce Olive and Marry Me!

Olive shuddered. "I didn't see anything!" she whispered.

Elvis raised his long, narrow eyes, a mature man's charm playing on his features. He glanced at the box. "What's in the box? Is it for you or for me?"

It took Olive a few seconds to understand. The box contained either sex toys for her or condoms for him. She quickly hid it under the bed.

"This is a birthday present," she said. "Mr. Augustine, please respect my privacy. You're not allowed to peek. I'm going to shower." She slipped into the bathroom.

Watching her flee, Elvis pursed his lips. She was only twenty; he was twenty-seven, a fully mature man. Though he'd never been with a woman, he knew what he should know. Her evasiveness suggested something she wasn't proud of.

He retrieved his phone. More than ten missed calls from Pamela awaited him. His phone vibrated; it was Pamela again. He answered. Pamela, surprised to reach him, blurted out, "Mr. Augustine, why did you get rid of me? Why didn't you answer my calls? I'm so sad."

Elvis interrupted sharply, "Pamela, I'll give you three seconds. Tell me what you want."

Pamela paused, her voice choked with tears. "Mr. Augustine, I really like you. I've liked you for years. Why do you want Olive, not me? Why did you marry her?"

"Two seconds are over. You have one second left."

Hearing his cold voice, Pamela clutched her phone. She took a deep breath, wiping away tears. "Mr. Augustine, I saved you. Remember? You promised to fulfill three requests. I've decided on my third: divorce Olive and marry me."

Rage and hatred filled her. She hated Olive for marrying Elvis, and herself for missing her chance. Her goal had always been to marry him.

Elvis's expression remained unchanged. His low, magnetic voice was flat. "Divorcing Olive and marrying you are two separate things. Pamela, which one do you want me to fulfill? And, no matter which you choose, I won't divorce Olive."

Pamela stammered, her pupils shrinking. She'd always felt she held an ace. Elvis kept his word. Yet, he refused.

She took a deep breath. "Mr. Augustine, you said you'd help me achieve anything I wanted. Are you going back on your word?"

Elvis scoffed, saying nothing.

"Mr. Augustine, have you forgotten who rescued you from the snow six or seven years ago? Who hugged you in the cave to keep you warm all night? If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be alive!"

The memory flooded Elvis's mind: the girl who saved him, giving him CPR, her lips on his, breathing life back into him. They'd huddled together, sharing their coats. Her words echoed: "Please don't die. Try to stay strong for me. I will definitely save you!"

His handsome eyes narrowed, his voice softening. "I haven't forgotten. If I had, you wouldn't be calling."

For years, he'd had no woman, allowing no one close. Pamela's relentless pursuit had only annoyed him. The only reason he tolerated her calls was because she was his rescuer.

"Mr. Augustine, if you haven't forgotten, you must like me too. After all these years, you're still thinking of me. I know I have a place in your heart!"

Elvis pursed his lips, glancing towards the bathroom. "I don't like women who stalk me, Pamela. Have some dignity. I really wouldn't want to humiliate you again. And, for your information, you don't resemble the girl in my memory."

Pamela's pupils dilated, her heart nearly stopping. Did he suspect something? She wasn't the girl he remembered. Olive was.

Her lips trembled. She dared not speak, fearing exposure.

Elvis said, "Pamela Hart, if you're smart, use this life-saving debt to make a request I'll agree to—one that benefits you. And, I hope this is our last conversation. My Mrs. Augustine is jealous. She doesn't like me with other women. I'm married, and I have no plans to divorce or cheat." He hung up.

He threw his phone on the bed, unbuttoned his shirt. The bathroom door opened, and Olive emerged, wearing a champagne-colored nightdress. Wiping her wet hair, she said, "Mr. Augustine, I'm done. Go wash yourself."

Elvis's eyes lingered on her beauty. "I'll be quick. Mrs. Augustine, wait for me."

Olive angrily threw a towel at him. He smiled and entered the bathroom.

Olive sat drying her hair. A male voice from the bathroom: "Mrs. Augustine, get me a pack of cigarettes."

"Why does he need a cigarette while showering?" she wondered.

She retrieved a pack, opened the bathroom door, and entered. The frosted glass obscured a clear view, but she could see his tall, strong frame, hunching as he washed his hair. Water splashed onto his muscles.