Chapter 260: Meeting at the Imperial Bar

Crystal sat in the passenger seat, watching Elvis as Olive disappeared after the luxury car departed. She bit her lip angrily. “Elvis, I want to visit Mrs. Samantha today. I’ve developed a new recipe specifically for her.” Crystal knew Elvis loved his grandmother dearly, so she planned to win her affection first. She believed in her skills as a nutritionist; she could surely adjust the recipe to suit Mrs. Samantha's tastes, bringing her closer to Elvis.

Elvis, having lost sight of Olive, nodded. “My grandmother’s appetite is worsening. I plan to hire a professional dietitian. I’ll call her first; if she agrees, I’ll take you.”

“Okay,” Crystal replied meekly, smiling.

Olive placed a call. After a moment, Mrs. Samantha’s voice answered, “Hi, Elvis.”

“Grandma, how’s your appetite today? Crystal wants to visit and make you a new dish. Can we come now?”

There was a pause. Then, Mrs. Samantha asked, “Elvis, are you with Crystal?”

Crystal quickly interjected, “Yes, Mrs. Samantha. Elvis picked me up from school, and we’re coming to see you.”

A moment of silence followed, then a refusal. “No need. I ate well today, but I’m sleepy. I’m going to bed.” The line went dead.

Crystal’s enthusiasm vanished. Even she could tell the old woman didn't want her company. She pouted. “Elvis, did I do something wrong? I feel like since Mrs. Samantha went to Los Angeles seven years ago, she hasn’t liked me.”

A flicker crossed Elvis’s deep, narrow eyes. His grandmother’s reaction was unusual. He recalled her greatest wish: for him to marry and have children. Crystal's presence should have been welcomed, yet his grandmother was cold and dismissive.

“Don’t worry,” Elvis said quietly, looking ahead. “I’ll take you to see her another day.”

Was he taking her home? Did he have no evening plans? “Elvis, let’s have dinner together,” Crystal suggested hopefully, her eyes expectant. She envisioned a romantic candlelit dinner.

“I don’t have time tonight. I have an appointment,” Elvis refused.

“Okay, let’s make another date,” she replied, disappointed.

Elvis took Crystal home, then went to the Imperial Bar with Phoebe. He did have an appointment—Raven had arrived from Los Angeles.

In the luxurious bar, Elvis sat on a dark red sofa, glancing at Raven. “Why Imperial?”

Raven, still handsome, his gold-rimmed glasses reflecting his cold black eyes, replied, “A meeting. I’ll be back in two days. How are you?”

Elvis took a sip of red wine. “I’m good.”

“Rumors say the Augustine and Robert families are getting engaged. You’ve been close to Crystal lately. Do you intend to marry her?”

Elvis swirled his wine, then looked at Raven. “I was stabbed. Did you know?” He couldn’t recall the event, which might have occurred in Los Angeles. Raven, his childhood friend, likely knew. Raven did, but he couldn't mention Olive Hart. He glanced at Elvis’s trousers. “What? Problems with Crystal?”

Elvis kicked him.

Raven ignored the scuff mark on his pants, smirking. “So it’s true. Don’t doubt yourself. Try another woman.”

Elvis half-smiled. “With your experience, it seems you’re not working for Jane, but satisfying your own needs.”

Raven kicked back. “Better than you. You have no desire now.”

Elvis teased, “Why so angry? North Paulo is collaborating with Fly Jewelry, and she hasn’t contacted you in ages. Look at your face.”

The two began to scuffle, startling Peterson, who was even more shocked upon learning of his young master's stabbing and impotence. He quickly found Ray. “Ray, a secret. The young master was injured, and he’s impotent.”

Ray stared blankly. “You know the young master's secret. Dead men tell no tales. I’m considering silencing you.”

Peterson remained silent.

The door opened, and Elvis emerged. “Where’s Phoebe?”

Peterson looked around, having no idea where Phoebe had gone. Elvis’s face darkened. “Find her.”

Meanwhile, Olive, on a date, heard a familiar meow. Phoebe, recognizing Olive, ran to her, meowing excitedly. Olive, astonished, knelt and hugged her.

“Phoebe, it’s me! I missed you so much.”

Olive stroked Phoebe’s fur. Phoebe meowed again, as if saying she'd missed Olive terribly and couldn't bear being separated, worried that Olive's man would be taken by other girls. Olive was overjoyed. She hadn't expected Phoebe to be at the Imperial. Had Master Augustine brought her?

A deep voice interrupted: “Phoebe.”

Olive and Phoebe looked up to see Elvis approaching.