Chapter 212: Olive's Background

Olive didn't understand Old Mr. Hart. She caressed his hand and lay beside him, tears streaming down her face. "Grandpa, don't you remember me?" she asked sadly, wiping her eyes.

Mr. Hart stretched out his hand and stroked Olive's hair. "Olive, my dear. You've grown so much."

"You've been in a coma for a long time, Grandpa," Olive cried, sighing in relief that he remembered her.

"Now that you're grown, there are things I must tell you. Your mother was my mistress, and you are my young mistress," the old man explained.

Olive was stunned, speechless. "Grandpa, what are you talking about? I don't understand."

"Olive, I was your mother's housekeeper. To protect your mother's secret identity, I allowed her and my son, Patrick, to marry. You are not Patrick's daughter."

Olive struggled to process this. "Grandpa, who is my father, then?" she asked curiously.

Old Mr. Hart pondered. "I don't know. My mistress was a free spirit, always seeking excitement. She had one close friend, whose name I can't recall. One day, she decided she wanted a child for companionship, so she became pregnant with you." He had been in a vegetative state for so long; his memories were fragmented.

Olive was shocked. Her mother had conceived her for companionship.

"But, young mistress, rest assured. The gene your mother chose must be among the best. Your father must be a very powerful man."

Olive noticed a similarity between Mr. Hart's tone and Aunt Rebecca's. "Grandpa, are you saying my mother and father had a one-night stand, and she used his sperm to get pregnant with me?"

Old Mr. Hart coughed. He couldn't allow anyone to speak ill of his mistress. "How can it be called theft? With a daughter like you, I think the man has plenty to brag about."

Olive changed the subject. "Grandpa, how did my mother die? Was it Monica, Pamela, or Gabriella? Did they also push you down the stairs?"

"They did push me, but they couldn't touch my mistress; she was far above them. Her death had nothing to do with them."

This was unexpected. Olive had believed Monica and her daughters were responsible. Mr. Hart's words revealed her mother's superior status.

"Grandpa, then how did my mother die?" Olive pressed.

Mr. Hart hesitated. "Young mistress, it's best to consider Mistress Joyce missing, not dead."

Olive's eyes widened in disbelief. "Grandpa, are you saying my mother isn't dead?" she asked urgently, her heart pounding.

Mr. Hart nodded slightly. "That's what I believe. Unless she committed suicide, even the kingdom of death couldn't claim someone as powerful as she was. What happened was sudden. Before I could react, Monica and her daughters pushed me down the stairs."

Although lacking details, Olive's heart leaped with the possibility of her mother still being alive. "Grandpa, I want to find my mother," she declared.

Mr. Hart patted her hand. "Go to Imperial. Your mother's footprints are there."

Olive nodded vigorously. "I will, Grandpa. When you're ready, I'll take you to Imperial City."

Mr. Hart shook his head fondly. His dull eyes held a quiet peace. "Olive, where's Patrick? Is he here?"

"I called him; he should be here soon." As she spoke, the door opened, and Patrick rushed in.

"Dad! Father! You're awake! It's been so hard without you!" Patrick embraced Mr. Hart, weeping.

Olive felt pushed aside, her reaction seeming less filial than Patrick's. Yet, Patrick’s filial piety was a façade. While Mr. Hart ran the Hart family, Patrick had inherited wealth and comfort. But after Mr. Hart’s incapacitation, Patrick had to fend for himself, reliant on his wife Monica and later his daughter Pamela. He’d known both the best and worst of humanity.

Mr. Hart, upon seeing Patrick, grew angry. He raised his weak hand and struck him twice. "You useless child! I'm Mistress Joyce's employee; how could I have a son like you?"

"Dad, stop!" Patrick turned to Olive. "Olive, I'm burdened with Grandpa's care. Why did you take him away?"

Olive chuckled. "Grandpa's right, you are stupid. Did you want me to wait until Monica and Pamela pushed Grandpa down the stairs again?"

"What?" Patrick froze, confused. "Olive, didn't you push Grandpa down the stairs ten years ago? Why are you blaming Monica and Pamela?"

Olive calmly replied, "Ask Grandpa yourself."

"Dad, what's going on?" Patrick pleaded.

Mr. Hart tried to speak, but blood spurted from his neck. "Dad!" Patrick cried out in fright.

Olive gasped, rushing forward to check his pulse. He was poisoned. "Grandpa, don't be afraid. I'll give you an injection."

Mr. Hart held Olive's trembling hand, shaking his head weakly. "Young mistress, don't worry. I'm leaving. It's good to see you again. I feel at peace."