Chapter 217: Olive's Rival in Love

Pamela's words instantly stirred a memory Elvis had buried deep within his heart. His fingertips slowly loosened. After all these years, he had never forgotten the girl in the cave. He found himself suddenly unable to attack Pamela.

Pamela gasped for breath. A moment ago, she had nearly lost her life. The audacity of challenging Elvis had risked everything. Nevertheless, she'd won her bet. He had repeatedly tolerated her because of that memory. Without it, she would have vanished from Los Angeles.

Touching her reddened neck, she boldly rushed forward and hugged his waist. "Big brother," she whispered, "I know you've always cared for me. Let me be your woman tonight."

Elvis's body burned. To ensure her plan's success, Pamela had procured a potent aphrodisiac. "Big brother, I love you," she murmured, rising on tiptoe to kiss his lips.

But when Elvis caught the scent of her artificial perfume, he turned his head, avoiding her kiss. He pushed her away. He didn't understand what was happening, but Olive's beautiful face filled his mind. He yearned for her soft body and her scent.

He looked at Pamela and shook his head. "It's not you."

Pamela's heart skipped a beat. Had he noticed something?

A nervous knock sounded on the door. "Pamela, come out! Mr. Augustine, are you there? Open the door!" Olive's voice called from outside.

Pamela's eyes widened. Marvin had failed to seize his opportunity; he'd let Olive go.

Elvis froze. He turned and walked toward the door, drawn to Olive. He felt profoundly uneasy, his mind consumed by her. Hearing her voice, every cell in his body cried out for her.

"Elvis," Pamela grabbed him. "Have you forgotten Olive is poisoned by the flower? Imperial with Marvin is her only chance of survival. Is it best to open the door and risk her going with Marvin?"

Elvis stopped, only steps from the door. She was within reach, yet his feet felt heavy, immovable. He knew he couldn't see her, hug her, kiss her. The greatest love he could show her now was to endure and let her go.

"Elvis, can you hear me? Why won't you open the door? I don't like you and Pamela together. You're giving me ideas!" Olive's voice, tinged with tears, continued to pound on the door. "If you dare touch Pamela, I'll never want you again! I'll kick you out of my heart!"

Elvis clenched his fists, his teeth gritted. Olive was his girl, and he hated hearing her cry, but he was paralyzed.

"Elvis, don't go. Let her go. Let me stay with you. You can think of me as Olive."

Elvis's eyes were red, his longing for Olive overwhelming him under the aphrodisiac's influence. "Olive," he breathed, pushing Pamela onto the bed.

Outside, Patrick watched Olive, who was about to collapse. Monica joined them in the hallway. Understanding her daughter's plan, she sneered. "Olive, you've made a scene, but President Augustine hasn't opened the door. He doesn't want to talk to you. He chose Pamela over you, my dear."

"Elvis, be gentle, you're hurting me!" Pamela's coquettish voice drifted from the room.

Olive's face was pale, her eyes red and brimming with tears. She dug her fingernails into the door, injuring herself. "Elvis, come out! You don't want me anymore, right? You can't be with Pamela, you're mine!" she sobbed.

Growing up, Olive knew crying was futile, but she couldn't control herself. Her heart felt crushed, her breath stolen. She couldn't open the door, and Elvis refused to come out.

Marvin watched from the corner, having urged her to leave Elvis. He couldn't fathom her pain and reluctance.

After about thirty minutes, the door opened, and Elvis emerged. Olive quickly looked up. He wore a simple black shirt and trousers, his clothes wrinkled, his scarlet eyes still reflecting a flicker of lust. Olive's gaze fell to the room; clothes were scattered on the floor, the bed stained.