Chapter 189: She Is His Only Medicine
Olive knew she’d shot herself in the foot; Grandma must have seen the news. Her hotel interview was trending online.
“Olive, here’s a smoothie. Drink it,” the old lady urged affectionately.
“Thanks, Grandma. I will,” Olive replied with a smile.
Elvis chuckled at Olive. She swiftly lifted her right foot and kicked him under the table.
“Olive, let me get you some ice,” Mrs. Samantha said, exiting for the kitchen.
The moment Grandma left, Olive held the large glass to Elvis’s lips.
“Mr. Augustine, it’s too much. You can secretly help me finish it.”
Elvis shook his head, refusing. “This is for women.”
Olive retorted, “It takes two to tango, Mr. Augustine. You need to be healthy for us to have healthy children. Help me drink some.”
He remained adamant. Olive bent, rubbing her face against his chest. “My husband,” she purred, pouting.
Elvis laughed, amused by her “husband” declaration over a smoothie. He lowered his head and drank three-quarters, leaving only a sip or two. Olive quickly finished the rest. Mrs. Samantha entered with the ice.
“So sorry. I had to see what Maria was doing,” she apologized.
Olive wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Grandma, no need for ice; I finished it!”
Mrs. Samantha’s eyes widened; she gave Olive a thumbs-up. “Wow, Olive, that was fast. Have some water, dear. Take care of yourself.”
Olive nodded, smiling. “Understood, thank you, Grandma.”
She drank some water, then resumed eating her sandwich. Offering a bite to Elvis, she persistently moved it closer until he relented. Olive beamed.
Mr. Henry and Maria stood smiling in the kitchen doorway, observing the scene. After six years in the Red Villa, it finally felt like home.
Elvis went to the study to work. Returning to the bedroom, he found Olive asleep at the table, a bright yellow lamp illuminating her. She’d been scribbling out Mrs. Robert’s surgery plan; the white sheet was densely covered in writing. The plan was complete.
He walked over. Olive, showered and her face unmasked, slept peacefully; her eyelashes resembled butterfly wings. Elvis felt guilty, blaming his overtime for her falling asleep waiting for him. He gently lifted her, placing her in bed and covering her with a blanket.
A knock came. Mrs. Samantha entered softly. “Elvis, is Olive asleep?”
Elvis nodded curtly, his displeasure evident. “Grandma, it’s late. Go rest.”
The old lady approached, looking at her grandson with love. “Elvis, Olive is a good girl. She loves you deeply. Do you feel it?”
Marvin had said the same thing in the hallway. “Elvis, Olive loves you dearly. She told the world. She wants to give you security, using every opportunity to show her love. Please, Elvis, no matter what, don’t let go of Olive’s hand. Do you understand?” she pleaded, her eyes full of affection.
Elvis looked at Olive, then nodded. “Yes, Grandma. Even if I wanted to, I can’t. She’s my antidote.”
Elvis had always been ill, but Olive had become his medicine, making it impossible to live without her. No matter the future pain, he vowed to hold onto Olive.
Awakening, Olive saw Elvis’s portion of the surgery plan. The last page contained a note: “Good morning, Mrs. Augustine.” She smiled.
Olive bathed, then quickly ate breakfast before leaving for the Ivory Council. Entering the institute, all eyes were on her. No longer the “bastard from the suburbs,” she was a brilliant medical prodigy with two postdoctoral degrees at thirteen. She held her white coat, facing the crowd.
Dean Sebastian and Marvin approached. “Marvin, Olive, Mrs. Robert is in your care. We await good news.”
The students, eager to offer support, hesitated. Olive, with bright eyes, greeted them. “Hey, what are you doing? Come over!”
They rushed forward, shaking her hand. “Olive, we have your prayers and support!” “If the surgery is successful, the Dean will treat us to dinner! Academician Marvin, Olive, we hope you'll help us fulfill our dream!”
Director Hudson approached, admiration in his eyes. “Olive, I heard you pleaded with the Dean on my behalf. Thank you. Good luck with the surgery!”