Chapter 209: Mr. Augustine, is that you?

How could she not see? Could it be the poison?

Elvis froze, his eyes narrowing. “What? How will you get home if you can’t see? Did you call your family?” the kind lady asked.

Olive nodded gently. “My husband will pick me up. Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be home soon.”

The lady, surprised Olive was married, said, “Okay. Sit here and wait for him. Don’t cross until the light turns green.”

“Thank you,” Olive mumbled.

The lady left. Though she couldn’t see, Olive eventually stood and walked forward. Someone urged her across the road with the crowd. Elvis followed, a few steps behind. He couldn't bear to watch her fear. He saw her cautious, hurried steps. He longed to hug her, but couldn't.

Reaching the other side, Olive stopped and turned. Elvis froze, unprepared. Her unfocused eyes found him. They suddenly glowed.

“Mr. Augustine, is that you?” she asked. For a moment, Elvis thought she’d seen him. “I hear footsteps… you’ve been following me, haven’t you?”

Elvis’s heart ached. He’d never met anyone so delicate as Olive. The light turned red, but the intersection was empty. Heads popped out of cars.

“That’s President Augustine,” someone whispered. “It’s Mr. and Mrs. Augustine!”

The city lights twinkled like stars. The night seemed to hush. Olive slowly raised her hand, feeling for him. Elvis watched her hand approach, almost touching him. His defenses crumbled. He reached out—but another hand was faster.

Marvin arrived, grabbing Olive’s wrist. “Olive, it’s me.”

Olive’s eyes lost their light. Marvin took her to the Red Villa and watched her enter. As he turned, Elvis grabbed his collar.

“What’s wrong with her? You said she was poisoned. Why is she blind?” Elvis’s voice was harsh.

Marvin’s cold eyes met Elvis’s rage. “I just learned she’s blind. She never mentioned the flower’s poison.”

Elvis’s eyes were scarlet. His teeth gritted, veins throbbing in his palm. “How can I save her? She must be terrified.”

“There’s no cure. Olive knew that before trying to make your medicine. I’m taking her to the Imperial before her condition worsens. You know what to do,” Marvin said, pushing him away.

Back in her bedroom, Olive’s sight returned the moment she entered. The door opened, revealing Elvis.

“Mr. Augustine, you’re back!” Olive ran to him, overjoyed. He hadn't been home for days.

Elvis looked at her. Her clear eyes had returned. He nodded. “Yes.”

“Have you eaten?” Olive hugged his waist. He stood stiffly, then softened as her small hand encircled him. They hadn't reconciled.

Olive, close to him, waited for his answer. He replied calmly, “Yes, I’ve eaten.”

“Oh,” Olive bit her lip. “I saw Pamela today. She showed me a video. I know you didn’t do anything with her, but… why were you in bed with her? I need an explanation.”

Elvis frowned. He guessed when Pamela took the photo—the night he mistook her for Olive. He wanted to explain, but stopped himself. He raised a hand, unbuttoning his shirt. His voice was cold.

“Men work hard all day. When they come home, they want peace, not your vexatious troubles.” He pushed her away and walked to the window.