Chapter 150: He Hates Himself

What was he doing? How could he so casually mention divorce?

Olive, who had just ingested poison, felt very weak and uncomfortable. “I don’t like you anymore!” she half-shouted.

Elvis used his fingers to clasp her wrists domineeringly, pressing them above her head. “It’s fine if you don’t like me anymore! Many women like me—more beautiful and better than you. A single glance from me, and they'd all come running!”

Olive’s eyes reddened, and tears welled up.

Elvis controlled her hands with one hand and took off her trousers with the other. He muttered cruelly, “But I’m not done with you! You’re still my wife! Dare to sleep with other men behind my back, and see how I’ll kill you!”

Olive struggled. “Elvis, don’t touch me!”

“Olive, I’m in a bad mood! Be obedient. Otherwise, you won’t like what I do to you! Or are you still going to struggle?” Elvis’s eyes darkened. He was truly sick.

Olive knew struggling was useless; it only angered him more. She turned her face away, but tears streamed down her cheeks.

Elvis tugged at her pants. Soon, he buried his face in her long hair, kissing it. His thin lips brushed her earlobe. His hoarse voice sounded, “Olive, always remember who you are. You’re my wife. If you want to leave me for another man, know that I’ll be rid of you. Understand? I, Elvis Augustine, don't lack for women. Don't push me!”

The girl in his arms was speechless.

Elvis opened his eyes and looked at her. Olive had closed her eyes, tears streaming down her pale face. Elvis’s tall, straight body suddenly stiffened. He stared at her tears. He had bullied her into a corner. She only lowered her head and sobbed, her teeth biting her red lips. It was pitiful to see her curled up and abused by him.

It was as though a basin of cold water had been poured on Elvis. All the violence and rage vanished instantly, and he came to his senses. He didn’t know what he had done! He was horrible!

(Sub-heading: Bride: Doted by My Billionaire Husband)

She must hate him now!

Elvis’s gaze fell on her slender wrist. In the institute, he had pulled her hard. Her delicate skin bore red marks. His hands were so strong that they left marks almost instantly.

Elvis quickly let go of her. His heart felt empty and ached. He raised his hand and smashed his fist into the mirror beside him. The mirror shattered, and he sustained several deep cuts on his hand.

He immediately turned and left, but remained in the CEO’s office. He sat in the black leather chair and smoked, the smoke obscuring his handsome face. Scarlet ash fell from his fingertips, emitting an aura of hostility.

After some time, a sudden voice exclaimed from the bathroom, “Ah!”

Elvis was startled and quickly stubbed out his cigarette. He stood up and opened the lounge door. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her.

Olive had cried enough. Her eyes and nose were red, her eyelashes dripping with tears. She got dressed and stepped down from the washstand, but her limbs were numb from inactivity. She almost fell.

Olive looked up at the man by the door. Her muffled voice asked, “Why didn’t you leave?”

Elvis hadn’t expected her to still want to talk to him. Didn’t she dislike him? Didn’t she hate him?

Elvis’s voice was hoarse. “You’re here; I can’t. I can’t even dare to leave. I’m afraid that if I leave, you’ll leave too, and I won’t be able to find you.”

Olive snorted. Her eyes darkened, and her slender body collapsed onto the carpet.

Elvis was startled. He reached out and pulled her into his embrace. “Olive! What’s wrong with you? Olive?”

Olive opened her eyes and stared at Elvis’s handsome face, now clouded with tension and guilt. “I’m not feeling well. You still don’t believe me. Marvin helped me because I was sick. Mr. Augustine, please trust me this once?”

Elvis looked at her saddened and pale face. He should have noticed something was wrong with her face at the institute, but he was blinded by jealousy. He hadn’t realized she was sick. He had tortured her further.

“I believe you.” Elvis held her hands and kissed her messily. “Mrs. Augustine, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m always like this. I hate myself.”

Olive looked at the corners of his red eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m a little dizzy. Carry me to bed so I can rest.”

Elvis quickly picked her up and placed her on the bed. He took out his medical kit, knelt beside the bed, and began to treat her wounds. He moved gently, afraid of hurting her.

After tending to her finger and wrist wounds, he put away the kit and began cleaning the room.

Olive looked at him. The wound on his hand was untreated, but the bleeding had stopped. Elvis squatted, picked up the pill he had thrown away, silently put it in his mouth, and swallowed it.

Olive suddenly felt a sharp pain in her heart.