Chapter 192

Olive, come over, okay?

Elvis didn't know how fast he was driving. The truck's headlights stung his eyes as it sped past.

He'd faced life-threatening situations before, remaining fearless even in the face of death. But now, his eyes widened, his large hand gripping the steering wheel in a desperate attempt to save himself. He didn't want to die; Olive was his reason to live.

Before Olive, he hadn't realized how serious his illness was. Her presence ignited a desire for wellness, a yearning to improve himself. But his aspirations hadn't yet materialized.

He slammed the steering wheel. The Rolls-Royce Phantom slid past the truck, then crashed into a streetlight, showering sparks. Despite the damage to the luxury car's front end—renowned for its superior crash resistance—Elvis survived.

He slumped against the steering wheel, his body wracked by the impact. Darkness filled his vision.

People quickly rushed to the car, opening the driver's door.

"Mister, can you hear me?"

His ears rang. He didn't respond.

"Sir, we've called an ambulance. They'll be here soon."

Everyone stared. Despite the accident, his expensive black suit remained impeccable. Blood covered his body, obscuring his injuries.

His gaze searched persistently.

"Sir, are you looking for your phone?" a rescuer asked.

A woman handed him his phone, retrieved from the car. He quickly dialed Olive's number.

Her sweet voice answered, "Hello, Mr. Augustine."

Laughter followed. Divine said, "Olive, is it Mr. Augustine calling? It seems President Augustine is very clingy."

Elvis's pale lips moved. "Olive," he whispered.

Olive sensed the abnormality in his voice. Finding privacy, she asked nervously, "Mr. Augustine, what's wrong? Why do you sound like that?"

"Olive, come over, okay?" he mumbled, clutching the phone.

"Mr. Augustine, what's wrong? Where are you?"

"I was in a car accident. My body aches. Olive, it hurts so much…"

He needed her. His strength failing, he dropped the phone.

"Mr. Augustine? Mr. Augustine!" Olive's panicked voice filled the air.

She rushed to the hospital. Elvis was already in a coma.

"Doctor, is he seriously injured?" she asked anxiously.

"The patient's body impacted severely with the steering wheel; he wasn't wearing a seatbelt. However, he's sustained only bruises. He should wake up soon and will remain for observation." Olive nodded sadly.

"Thank you, Doctor."

"You're welcome, ma'am."

Olive stood by his bedside, her clear eyes reddening, tears welling. Dean Marvin and Divine had accompanied her. Divine hugged her.

"Olive, I heard Mr. Augustine was driving very fast."

Olive squeezed Divine's hand. "Divine, I want to stay with Mr. Augustine. Thank you all for coming. You can go home now."

"Okay, Olive. Just call us if you need anything."

Dean Sebastian and Divine left. Marvin paused at the door, watching Olive hold Elvis's hand. He waited in the waiting room all night.

At dawn, Elvis opened his eyes, the smell of disinfectant confirming his location. He shifted, realizing his hand was clasped tightly. Olive slept beside him, her grip unwavering.

He leaned closer. Tears had stained the sheet beneath her face. His turmoil subsided. He gently kissed her eyes.

His kiss awoke her. She stared, awestruck.

"Mr. Augustine, you're awake! If you're in pain, tell me."

He touched her face. "It's fine. Now that I've seen you, I don't feel any pain."

Olive lightly punched his shoulder. "You scared me to death! Don't ever do that again!" Tears streamed down her face.