Chapter 124: Divorce Olive and Marry Me!

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

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 realize he meant the box contained either sex toys for her or condoms for him. She quickly hid it under the bed.

"This is my birthday present, Mr. Augustine. You must respect my privacy. You're not allowed to peek. I'll go get a shower." She slipped into the bathroom.

Seeing her flee, Elvis pursed his lips. She had just turned twenty, while he was twenty-seven, the age of a mature man. Although he'd never been with a woman before, he knew enough to understand her evasiveness hinted at 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. This time, he answered. She was clearly surprised.

"Mr. Augustine, why did you get rid of me? Why didn't you answer my calls? I'm very sad."

Elvis interrupted. "Pamela, I'll give you three seconds. State your request."

Pamela paused, her voice choked with tears. "Mr. Augustine, I really like you. I've liked you for years. Why do you want Olive and 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. You promised to fulfill three requests. I want you to divorce Olive and marry me."

Rage 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 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 shrank. She'd always believed 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 whatever I wanted. Are you going back on your word?"

Elvis scoffed, silent.

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

The memory flooded Elvis's mind: the girl who had given him CPR, her lips on his, breathing life back into him. They'd huddled together, stripping off their coats. Her words echoed: "Please don't die. I'll save you!"

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

All these years, he'd kept women at a distance. Pamela's persistent 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. You're still thinking about me. I have a place in your heart!"

Elvis pursed his lips, glancing toward the bathroom. "I don't like women who stalk me. Pamela, have some dignity. And for your information, you don't resemble the girl in my memory."

Pamela's pupils dilated. Had he noticed something? She wasn't the girl he remembered; Olive was.

Her lips trembled. She dared not speak, fearing her deception would be exposed.

Elvis continued, "Pamela Hart, if you're smart, use this life-saving debt to make a request I'll agree to—something beneficial. And this is the last time we speak. My Mrs. Augustine is jealous. I'm married, and I have no plans to divorce or cheat." He hung up.

He tossed his phone on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. The bathroom door opened, and Olive emerged in a champagne-colored nightdress, towel in hand.

"Mr. Augustine, I'm done. Go wash yourself."

Elvis's eyes raked over her, a hint of desire in his gaze. "I'll be a jiffy. Mrs. Augustine, wait for me."

Olive, confused, angrily tossed the towel at him. He smiled and entered the bathroom.

She sat at the dressing mirror, drying her hair. A male voice called 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 from the bedside table, entered the bathroom, and saw his tall form hunched over, washing his hair. Water splashed onto his strong muscles.