Chapter 94: Let Her Go

Olive was gone. Elvis's eyes snapped open, sleepiness instantly vanishing. He sat up, swung his legs over the bed, and searched the room. He checked the bathroom; she wasn't there. "Where did she go?" he wondered.

He couldn't count the wounds he'd inflicted, only that his actions were despicable and shameful. He was disgusted with himself. He knew she must have been hurt and terrified. Would she return?

He retrieved his phone, located Olive's number, but hesitated, unable to press the dial button. He set the phone down and showered. Downstairs, he encountered his grandmother.

"Elvis, you woke up very late. Why did Olive leave so early? Did you two quarrel?" Mrs. Samantha asked.

"No," Elvis denied.

"That's good. That girl needs to be cherished. She's so obedient and tender. Call her later, take her to a candlelight dinner."

Elvis smiled faintly. "Grandma, I don't think I'll call Olive again."

"Why?" Mrs. Samantha inquired, curious.

"Before Olive, I never considered myself abnormal. But since meeting her, I've realized how flawed I am," he said, licking his lips. "What if I can't control myself? I hurt her last night, and I feel terrible. I have to let her go. I can't be selfish and risk hurting her again." He exhaled. "It's fine, Grandma. I still have you. I'll go to the company now."

He hugged Mrs. Samantha and left. She watched him go, sighing heavily. She knew her company wasn't enough; Elvis needed someone else—a woman who loved him, and whom he could love in return. She sat at the dining table, pondering the future of Elvis and Olive.

Maria hurried downstairs, whispering to Mrs. Samantha, "Ma'am, I was tidying young master's room. The sheets need changing."

The old lady looked up, inquiring, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am. The pillows too," Maria affirmed.

A nostalgic look crossed Mrs. Samantha's face. She sighed. "I'm famished, get me something to eat."

"Certainly, ma'am." Maria went to the kitchen.

Mrs. Samantha had just finished her second pastrami sandwich when the phone rang. Mr. Henry, the housekeeper, brought it to her, panicked.

"Ma'am, it's the lady from the imperial city!"

Mrs. Samantha glared. "What's the commotion?"

She answered the call. "Hello, Helen, call me back later."

Helen Augustine, far away in the imperial city, apologized. "Mom, it's urgent. My son, Marvin, has a marriage contract with an old friend's daughter. He's come of age. Can you return Marvin's engagement token? We need it to identify his fiancée."

Mrs. Samantha placed her sandwich down. "Helen, you think I stole Marvin's token? You're calling me a thief?"

Mr. Henry subtly gave her a thumbs-up.

"Mum, you misunderstood! I'd never call you a thief," Helen protested.

Mrs. Samantha's expression changed. "Look, Helen, I didn't take it. You took my son, and now you bother me here in LA? You still find it fitting to trouble me?" She sobbed.

Helen, hearing her distress, quickly hung up. Mrs. Samantha threw the phone to Henry and resumed eating.

Marvin was Elvis's younger brother; Helen was his stepmother. Mrs. Samantha had taken the engagement token and refused to return it because Olive was the old friend's daughter and Marvin's fiancée—but Olive was now Elvis's wife.