Chapter 430: Giving Birth to a Son!
Olive finally realized Elvis had tricked her; the entire encounter was a ruse to discuss waist training. “Elvis, no, I haven’t showered yet…” “Don’t take a shower, you smell so good.” “No…” Olive relentlessly resisted, refusing to cooperate. Three minutes later, he stopped abruptly. Olive was startled. Elvis buried his face in her neck, panting. Olive gazed at the chandelier, then teased him with her pinky finger, “Didn’t you say… you trained your waist well?”
Elvis felt humiliated. He glared, “This time doesn’t count, let’s keep practicing.” “…I don’t want to!” Olive pushed him away, attempting to escape, but Elvis held her tightly, his eyes filled with a decadent, seductive lust. “Olive, it was an accident. Forget it. Give me one more chance, I’ll impress you.” Olive saw his desire to redeem himself and laughed, “Go and train your waist!”
“Then I will practice now.” Elvis offered his hand. Olive giggled, dodging him. The bedroom door burst open, and the old lady and Betty tumbled in, the old lady scolding, “Shh! Betty, don’t push me!” Olive’s eyes widened; she covered her face, shouting, “Ah!” Remembering a joke North had told her—whether to cover the top or bottom first if someone barged in while showering—she chose her face. Elvis, surprised to find his grandmother and Betty spying, quickly covered Olive with a silk blanket. He glared at them, asking, “Grandma, Betty, what are you doing?”
They stumbled, regaining their balance. Betty quickly excused herself, claiming an unwashed bowl. Grandma, flustered by Elvis's anger, stammered, “Where am I? What am I doing? Who am I? Elvis, Olive… it’s you! When did I get here? I can’t see anything. I’ll go!” She fled.
Elvis was speechless. This reinforced his resolve to take Olive out when he wanted to do something. He looked at the small figure under the blanket, “Olive, Grandma, and Betty are gone. You can come out now.” The figure didn't move. Elvis pulled away the blanket, revealing Olive's blushing face. She glared, then slammed a pillow on his face, exclaiming, “It’s all your fault! I said no! Now everyone knows!”
Elvis accepted the pillow, then coaxed, “Okay, it’s all my fault. I’m sorry. Don’t be angry.” Olive snorted. Elvis leaned close, “I can make up for it… I’ll take you to the bathroom, let’s shower together.”
Olive gasped. His audacity shocked her; they had just been interrupted, and he wanted to bathe with her! She kicked him, “I’ll shower myself, but I don’t have any clothes. Go get some from my room!” Elvis, fearing her anger, compromised, “Then I’ll go get you some clothes.”
Leaving the bedroom, he immediately encountered his grandmother. “Elvis,” she whispered conspiratorially, “I always suspected something was wrong with your body. Look, you can’t deny it. You’re too…quick…”
Three black lines appeared on Elvis's forehead. “Grandma, this is the last time you peek in my room! I hope there won’t be a next time!”
The old lady excitedly announced, “Rest assured, I know an old doctor who specializes in male diseases. Tomorrow he’ll prescribe something; you’ll be a great man in one night!”
Elvis didn't respond. But the old lady continued, “Elvis, you’re with Olive, hurry and propose! Marry her, and have a chubby boy or girl. A girl like Olive… as beautiful as a porcelain doll.”
Elvis's eyes darkened. He didn't know how he and Olive had divorced, but he knew the answer was in the missing half of his memory. He didn't want to recover it; his heart resisted. He forced himself awake from the trance. Without those memories, he wasn't fully Mr. Augustine, not the Augustine Olive loved. He texted Dr. Kellerman, scheduling hypnosis for tomorrow afternoon.
Early the next morning, Elvis saw Olive in the living room. She was already awake, preparing for her public appearance at the Imperial Medical Forum as Professor Hart with Academic Dickson. This was her media debut. She wore a stylish beige silk shirt with a bow tie, a pink lace-up skirt, and her hair in a low ponytail, highlighting her delicate beauty.