Chapter 123
They were both sitting on the soft wool carpet. Olive placed her hands on the ground, unsure of her sudden squeamishness. Elvis let her be for a moment. Olive quickly lay down, her face turned towards the stars. She felt an impulse to reach out and grasp them.
She turned to admire the diamond ring on her right hand, a sweet smile curving her red lips. A meteor flashed across the sky, followed by a shooting star streaking towards her.
She stood, startled, gazing at the shooting star. A strong arm encircled her waist, pulling her into a hug from behind.
“What are you afraid of?” Elvis whispered, kissing her hair.
The meteor exploded, transforming instantly into a vibrant fireworks display. The fireworks cascaded to the ground like colorful rain, illuminating the entire city of Los Angeles. Olive, speechless, exclaimed like a child, “Wow! This is super gorgeous!”
Elvis held her close. His lips brushed her ear as he kissed her again. He took out his phone and posted: “Mrs. Augustine, I hope you will grow old beside me. Happy birthday, my queen.”
Pamela stood outside the six-star hotel, the city ablaze with fireworks. Vehicles and pedestrians had stopped to watch the spectacular display.
“Wow. This is so beautiful.” “Why is it raining fireworks?” “Don’t you guys know that today is President Augustine’s wife’s birthday?”
The pedestrians murmured amongst themselves. Pamela watched the dazzling sky, knowing it was Elvis's doing. Yet, she felt a profound sense of injustice, a bitter conviction that she, not Olive, should be living this life. The events were driving her to the edge of sanity.
She opened her social media account and began scrolling. The top trending news was the revelation at Olive's birthday celebration. She clicked on Elvis's account. As a prominent Los Angeles figure, he had always maintained a low profile, with only a business account—or so she thought. To her shock, a personal account appeared, following only Olive.
Pamela read Elvis's birthday post for Olive, her eyes stinging with tears. She tried to open her eyes, but the tears flowed freely. She had seen many couples' birthday posts, but never one where a man expressed such a heartfelt wish for his wife to grow old with him. A man like Elvis, with his authority and wealth, could have any woman he desired; he could easily support dozens.
She opened the comments section of the trending post:
“So Olive is actually Elvis’s wife! OMG!” “I can’t believe Olive married Elvis!” “With the fireworks and meteor shower, Olive is one lucky girl.” “I can’t imagine what Pamela is going through right now.”
The post from one of the guests at Olive’s confession had garnered over thirty million views. Pamela continued scrolling, tears streaming down her face.
Why? Why was this happening to her? She was meant to be Mrs. Augustine!
Elvis and Olive left the hotel, entering Elvis's car and heading home. Elvis drove, his large hands on the steering wheel, glancing at the rearview mirror. He saw Pamela’s car following them.
Olive, in the passenger seat, held a piece of strawberry jam cake. She scooped up a spoonful, oblivious to the car speeding behind them.
“Mr. Augustine, do you want some?” she offered, a spoonful to Elvis. He noticed the cream on her lips. In a good mood, Olive leaned over and offered him the cake. Elvis opened his mouth as she fed him; immediately, he swerved the Roll Royce Phantom into traffic and accelerated.