Chapter 252: Are you arguing because of me?
The phone call seemed interesting. Elvis, holding Phoebe, left with her. In the hallway, Ray and Peterson waited for their master. Seeing Elvis emerge, they respectfully followed. Ray nudged Peterson, whispering excitedly, “I think I just saw young master smile.” “Really?” Peterson muttered, expressionless. “We can’t be caught gossiping about young master.”
Ray pondered, then said, “Do you think it’s because of the Hart family’s daughter who just returned?” “Young Master, the White and Hart families have a marriage contract. The Hart family’s daughter, lost as a child, has been found; she’s Noah’s fiancée,” Ray boldly stated within Elvis’s earshot. Elvis’s face remained impassive. He stared indifferently at Ray. “Did I ask you this?” “No, you didn’t,” Ray shook his head. “But if young master likes, I’ll have Peterson visit the Hart family tonight and… kidnap the daughter. She can sleep in your bed tonight.” Ray winked repeatedly at Peterson, urging his support.
Elvis turned, his cold eyes sweeping over Ray. “Get out!” he ordered irritably. Ray vanished. Peterson froze, speechless.
At the Augustine family villa, Elvis returned home. In the living room, he unbuttoned his black suit and handed it to the maid. “Young Master, Mrs. Samantha is upstairs,” the maid respectfully informed. “How’s her appetite?” Elvis inquired. “Young Master, Mrs. Samantha only ate a spoonful of rice. Her appetite is still very poor.” Elvis’s face clouded with sadness. Everyone knew that if Mrs. Samantha continued like this, she was likely to die soon.
Elvis went upstairs to see Mrs. Samantha. Reaching the study door, he noticed it ajar and overheard a conversation. It was Marvin’s voice.
“Dad, I’ll ask again. Where did you keep her? Why can’t I find her? Give her to me! I can save her. Don’t tell me you killed her! I refuse to believe you’re cruel and cold-blooded!”
“Enough!” Lily’s voice rebuked. “Marvin, are you crazy? How could you talk to your father like that? What’s so good about that woman? Did she give you a love potion?”
The door slammed shut, and Marvin stormed out, encountering Elvis. Their eyes met. Elvis saw his brother’s restlessness; his hands clenched into fists, like an angry lion. Elvis had never seen Marvin like this.
“What’s the matter with you?” Elvis asked indifferently, his gaze shifting between Marvin and the study. “You quarreled with Dad about a girl? You have a girl you like?”
Marvin stared coldly. “Are you happy now?”
Elvis pursed his lips, silent. Both men were handsome, capable of attracting any woman, so Elvis didn't understand Marvin’s quarrel with their father over a girl.
Marvin scoffed. “Elvis, you’re very happy inheriting the business empire and having the most beautiful woman as your fiancée. That’s great, Elvis. Continue to be happy.”
Marvin turned, then looked back at Elvis. He found it ridiculous that Olive had given her life for Elvis. She had loved him more than life itself. He wouldn't mention Olive's name to Elvis, ever. This was his punishment.
Lily angrily ran after Marvin. “Marvin, I’m talking to you!” Both disappeared.
Alpha emerged from the study. Elvis asked, “Are you two arguing about me?” Alpha shook his head. “No, this has nothing to do with you. Today’s Crystal’s birthday. How are you celebrating?”
“Fine,” Elvis muttered. “I’ll go see Grandma.”
In the bedroom, Mrs. Samantha sat on a sofa, holding Phoebe. She had lost much weight in the past three months; her hair was gray. Phoebe snuggled in her arms and meowed.
“Grandma,” Elvis called, kneeling beside the sofa and taking her hand. Mrs. Samantha looked up. “Elvis, you’re back,” she muttered.
“Grandma, I was told you barely ate today. What’s wrong? Tell me.” Elvis gently persuaded.
Mrs. Samantha shook her head. “Grandma is fine. Don’t worry. Grandma just wants to be left alone.” Elvis knew she wouldn’t confide in him. “Grandma, I’ll pick you up in two days to live with me. Your appetite is poor; I’ll find someone to cook for you.”
After spending time with his grandmother, Elvis left. In the Rolls-Royce, he leaned back, looking at the city. Peterson, the driver, politely informed him, “Young Master, Secretary Andrew called. Your appointment with Dr. Brown, the psychologist, still holds. He assures he can cure your frigidity.”