Chapter 15: New and Old Love

Gabriella was perplexed. Rejected by the man she liked and humiliated by Olive, she angrily stormed out of the bar.

Several thugs surrounded her. One, wearing a face cap, stared seductively and asked, "Beautiful princess, care to keep us company?"

Gabriella, well-protected since childhood, had never encountered such a situation. "Help!" she cried.

Her driver, spotting her distress, rushed over, shouting, "Hey! Let her go!"

The thugs quickly overpowered him, kicking him repeatedly. Gabriella trembled with fear. "Help! Help! Somebody help!"

They swiftly covered her mouth and dragged her into a dimly lit corner. Unable to speak, Gabriella—who usually despised low-status men and had sworn to marry only into one of Los Angeles's four wealthiest families—found these men utterly repulsive.

The gang leader caressed her face. Feeling her blood run cold, she pleaded for mercy. "Look at her skimpy dress," he sneered. "I'm certain she came here to hook up with men. Why don't we help you take it off?"

Gabriella had intended to meet Elvis. But as they pulled at her dress, she struggled desperately, tears streaming down her face. "No, please!"

"Let her go," a voice commanded.

The thugs released her, and she fell to the ground. Tears blurred her vision as she looked up in shock. A handsome face stared down at her. Her eyes narrowed; she recognized Harry, the Heaven's family crown prince.

Harry puffed a cigarette in Gabriella's face. "Miss Hart, this is a warning. Don't pursue relationships that attract trouble."

He finished, ground out the cigarette under his shoe, and muttered, "Let's go." The thugs departed with him.

Gabriella sat sobbing on the ground, humiliated. A luxurious car sped past; she looked up and saw Elvis in the driver's seat.

At the red villa, Olive entered her room, pulled out her phone, and sent a voice message to North Paulo: "Thank you so very much."

Having spent many years in the entertainment industry, North Paulo possessed extensive connections and a strong PR team. News, especially unreleased material, was usually handled by PR. The Monica and Mr. Ronald story could go viral quickly; it all depended on one person: North Paulo, Olive's best friend since kindergarten, who had tearfully bid her farewell when Olive went to the orphanage.

Olive's phone beeped. The message read: "Don't worry. My manager will handle this. Sir Patrick will find nothing."

North's voice was exceptionally pleasant, the kind that could leave a man breathless. Beautiful and a successful actress, North, the city's former beauty queen, had debuted two years prior and now commanded a hefty six-figure salary.

Touched by North's help, Olive asked, "When are you returning to LA?"

North's reply was playfully flirtatious: "Are you missing me? I heard you've found a new love. How could you still think of me?"

"New love?" Olive replied instantly.

Calm down, Olive, you're already panicking!"

Olive was speechless.

"Tell me about the young gigolo you hired," North's voice intruded again, referring to Elvis.

Even as one of LA's most beautiful women, North enjoyed gossip.

The door creaked open. Elvis, returning from the study, entered.

Guilt-stricken, Olive, lying on the bed, sat up quickly.

Elvis unbuttoned his black shirt, revealing his physique, and turned to Olive. Their eyes met. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No, no," Olive replied, avoiding his gaze.

Her phone beeped, and Elvis noticed. "Why don't you answer that?"

Olive clicked on North's voice message: "I can trust your choice. The gigolo you hired—is he handsome? And does he have a good temperament?"

Olive's face flushed crimson at North's suggestive tone; she almost dropped her phone. The next message played: "Olive, remember our promise at the movie—to find a man with good physical strength."

Silence filled the room. Olive buried her phone in the blanket, mortified. While such discussions were acceptable between girlfriends, it was intensely embarrassing to hear them played back.

"Um… Mr. Augustine, I'll go take a shower," Olive stammered, fleeing to the bathroom.

Standing at the sink, overwhelmed with shame, she looked in the mirror and saw Elvis approaching.