Chapter 436: Olive Belongs to Elvis

Standing on stage, Olive felt overwhelmed by the exceptional talent assembled. She disliked bringing her private life into the public eye. Then, Elvis's familiar voice rang out, "Professor Hart, do you have a boyfriend?"

Olive lifted her head, her bright eyes fixed on Elvis. He sat in the highest seat, his white square scarf neatly folded in the pocket of his black suit, his long legs crossed elegantly. His entire presence, every movement, exuded the charm of a mature man, a magnet drawing all eyes to him. His casual use of "Professor Hart" always felt teasing. Asking her publicly about a boyfriend? The audience's attention, and the accompanying gossip, was unavoidable. Their relationship had already made headlines.

Olive slowly raised her lips and nodded, "Yep, I have a boyfriend."

"Oh no!" The assembled talents cried out. Who had stolen their girl?

A subtle flicker appeared in Elvis's deep, narrow eyes. He continued, "Is he here?"

"Yeah—"

"Have you spoken to him recently?"

"Yes, I have."

"What did you say?"

Olive thought a moment, then replied, "He asked if I'd spoken to my boyfriend, and I said yes."

Elvis raised a heroic eyebrow, a seductive smile playing on his lips. She had finally given him an identity.

Whispers filled the air. The audience gasped; a romantic scene had just unfolded. Olive and Elvis had just publicly declared their feelings! The other talented individuals felt a blow to their egos—the girl they admired was now Elvis's.

The academic forum concluded successfully. The news of their confession quickly topped the trending searches. Olive left the stage, accompanied by Academic Dickson to speak with neurology department directors. As their conversation ended, laughter erupted.

"Academic Dickson, let her go! President Augustine's been waiting," someone said.

"Olive, you're now a prized asset in our medical field, but you've been 'acquired' by Mr. Augustine, a business magnate," another chuckled.

"We older folks should be more progressive and give the young ones more dating time. Olive, you're free to go."

Olive looked up and saw Elvis, surrounded by others. He seemed uninterested in their conversation, his gaze fixed on her. A wave of sweetness washed over her—this was love.

Noticing Olive's distraction, Academic Dickson coughed, "Olive, you should go."

Shyly, Olive waved, "Master, goodbye."

Academic Dickson clicked his tongue. Youth, he mused.

Elvis escorted Olive out, draping his beige coat over her shoulders.

"I'll do it myself," Olive said.

"Don't move." Elvis grabbed her collar, pulling her close, then bent to kiss her. Wrapped in his coat, her face tilted up, her lashes fluttering, she asked, "What's wrong with you?"

His low voice, filled with magnetism, whispered, "I wanted to kiss you. Don't move; kiss me." He deepened the kiss.

Olive hadn't expected this in the hall. His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her close. Her fingers curled slightly, defeated by his dominance. He slowly released her, his nose brushing her skin. Their breaths mingled.

"Olive," he murmured, "I want confirmation. You're mine, aren't you?"

Her pretty face flushed. She nodded quickly, "Yeah, I'm yours. Olive belongs to Elvis."

Elvis lowered his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I'm yours, too. Elvis belongs to Olive."

Olive smiled sweetly.

"My little girlfriend, are you free tonight? Candlelight dinner?" Elvis asked.

Olive suddenly remembered something, hastily refusing, "Tonight's impossible. I promised Grandma I'd practice with her."

Elvis felt a pang of disappointment and jealousy. She studied medicine by day, spent evenings with his grandmother, and had no time for him. He hugged her tightly, feeling the need to assert himself.

"I need to practice with you, too," he said. "I'll come to your room."

Chapter 435: Olive Belongs to Elvis. Olive: Dream on!

Elvis took Olive back to The Red Villa, then drove to the company. Dr. Kellerman waited in his office. Elvis reclined in his rattan chair.

"President Augustine, are you ready? We're recovering the second half of your memory; there's no turning back," Dr. Kellerman stated.

Elvis closed his eyes, his lips parted slightly. "Let's begin." He wanted all his memories back, every detail of his life with Olive.

The hypnosis began, and Elvis fell into another long dream, this one painful, unlike the sweetness of the previous one. Scenes from his past flashed before him; an unbearable version of himself: extreme, irritable, gloomy, suspicious, bloodthirsty, suffering from severe insomnia. He'd held Olive close, but she'd slipped through his fingers like sand. The final image was frozen: a small mountain village, him offering her three bird eggs, only to have her smash the nest in his hand.