Chapter 107: Mr. Augustine, You Silly Sweet

Monica photographed Mr. Henry and immediately forwarded the image to Pamela. Seconds later, Pamela called, brimming with excitement.

“Mom, is this the old man Olive married? He looks eighty! How did Olive marry such an old man?” Pamela nearly erupted in laughter.

Monica watched Mr. Henry inside the mansion. “Pamela, that's Olive's ‘ghost’ husband. He's old enough to be her grandfather! I'm sure Elvis Augustine will throw Olive out once he sees this.”

“Mom, you're amazing! You brought Olive back from the countryside and married her off to this old man in the Red Villa!” Pamela showered Monica with praise.

Monica smiled with satisfaction. “Yes, Pamela. Mom paved the way for you. Let's wait and see!”

After hanging up, Monica turned to Patrick. “Patrick, we must work hard for Pamela's happiness. Olive isn't your biological daughter, and she's not close to you. She and Elvis are together, and you gain nothing. The good thing is the Red Villa's 'ghost' husband has been exposed. How can Elvis tolerate this?”

If Elvis rejected Olive, his favored daughter, Pamela, would inherit his position.

Patrick felt elated. His happiness made Monica more appealing than ever.

“Monica, do whatever you need. I fully support you,” Patrick declared happily—his first words to her in days. Monica's face beamed with delight.

“I know, Patrick,” she replied cheerfully.

Olive was returning to the Red Villa when her phone beeped—a message from North. “Olive, who is this old man?” North had forwarded a picture of Butler Henry.

Olive glanced at it and replied, “He's our butler, Uncle Henry.”

North’s message arrived again: “Is he the ghost you married?”

What?

Olive knew something was wrong. She clicked on the newsfeed; the trending topics were all about her.

“Olive married an old man?” “Olive’s husband was perfectly hidden!” “Was Olive justified in cheating? After all, he couldn't satisfy her.” “Mr. Augustine is pitiful. He never imagined he'd be cuckolded by an old man.”

Olive swallowed hard. She hadn't anticipated Mr. Henry being identified as her husband.

A flurry of notifications appeared. She was tagged in a post by Mrs. Samantha, fiercely criticizing Elvis.

“What does Elvis Augustine want? Rich, handsome, charming, and stupid. Why did he harass my Olive and destroy our family? This is immoral!”

The post, only ten minutes old, already had thousands of comments and shares.

“OMG! This family scandal is hilarious!” “Public opinion is biased. Men cheat and are applauded; women cheat and are crucified. Our society needs improvement.” “Am I the only one who wants Olive to write a book? ‘How to Raise a Terrible Child’?”

Olive scrolled through the comments. Her followers had exploded from eighteen to twenty-three million, surpassing Pamela.

North messaged again: “Olive, you're a celebrity! One post diverted the anger to Mr. Augustine. But is this good? I think Mr. Augustine spoils you too much.”

She hadn’t made the post, but worried about Elvis's reaction.

Back at the Red Villa, Olive gratefully grabbed Mrs. Samantha's hands. “Grandma, you're amazing!”

Mrs. Samantha patted Olive's hand. “Olive, your father and stepmother were here. I deliberately let Uncle Henry introduce himself as your husband. The stage is set. How you sing is up to you.”

Olive was confused. “Grandma, what do you mean?”

The old lady just nodded. The hall door opened; Elvis had returned. Olive remembered the post about him. She couldn't face him.

Elvis changed shoes and entered the living room. His sharp eyes glanced at Olive and Mrs. Samantha, then landed on Mr. Henry. He sighed, unhappy.

Mr. Henry felt on pins and needles. Elvis took off his coat, handing it to a maid, then sat. He licked his lips and said, “Uncle Henry.”

Mr. Henry’s eyelashes trembled; his heart pounded. He looked at Mrs. Samantha.

“Uncle Henry,” Elvis continued, “I remember a lemon tree in the back garden. The lemons are your reward. Eat them all tonight.”