Chapter 446

She fiercely caught his eye. Hearing this, Damien’s phoenix eyes darkened. That night, the room was unlit; he saw only the silhouette of her—a beautiful young woman boldly sitting on his waist. Under the moonlight, he remembered her eyes, clear as autumn water. He didn't know what she looked like.

Elvis raised a heroic eyebrow and said generously, “Father-in-law, this is Olive’s exclusive photo album. I waited a long time to get it. I know you’ll love to meet my mother-in-law. Here’s a picture for you.”

Damien looked pale, took the photo, and examined it. It showed Joyce Brown and Olive Hart. Olive was four or five years old, clutching a small jade milk carton. Joyce was flying a kite on the grass; Olive ran beside her, as Joyce looked up at the sky. Damien had seen her face. Olive perfectly inherited her mother’s beauty; Joyce possessed a gorgeous face, her well-groomed eyelids lifting like tiny brushes as she smiled, her red lips curled. She was as pure and charming as an eighteen-year-old mother-to-be, her pale pink silk dress billowing in the wind—an unparalleled beauty that overwhelmed the city. Damien, born the son of Imperial, had never lacked for beautiful women, yet a glint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

That night, he knew she was beautiful. Her scent—not artificial perfume, but a woman's seductive natural fragrance—was captivating. In the moonlight, he recalled her vague yet delicate form as she lay in his lap, tracing circles with her fingers. Her shrill voice asking if he preferred a boy or a girl had made her seem like the most annoying fairy in the world.

Damien’s fiery red phoenix eyes lingered on Joyce, then on young Olive. His heart swelled with warmth. Was this the daughter she promised him? He liked this daughter very much! Olive, young yet smart, tenacious, and brave, possessed the bearing of a leader. The Robert family’s blood clearly ran through her veins.

However, Damien quickly pursed his lips. She clearly didn't want him and was living a good life with their daughter. Nora had pretended to be her. Though he hadn't favored Nora, he had elevated the Paulo family to the pinnacle of power. She seemed unconcerned. She didn't even care about him. He felt like an idiot.

“I heard she took Olive and left Imperial for Los Angeles?” Damien asked casually.

Elvis pursed his lips. He knew what Damien wanted to know. Damien had even conducted a paternity test and investigated Olive. Olive's last name was Hart; she was Patrick Hart's daughter.

“Yes, my mother-in-law married after moving to Los Angeles. They’ve been married for eight or nine years,” Elvis said.

Damien’s gaze sharpened, his body freezing. The document regarding Patrick Hart sat on his desk. He couldn't comprehend her marrying someone like that. She was married to another man, and they had his daughter. His breathing grew difficult; he loosened his collar, but it offered no relief. How had she lived a married life with Patrick Hart? Had she… been intimate with him?

The anger Damien had suppressed exploded. He wanted to capture Patrick, bury him, and then bring Joyce back to punish her. In Los Angeles, Patrick, enjoying his life, suddenly sneezed. He felt a strange premonition, as if someone was plotting against him.

Elvis sensed Damien’s displeasure. “Father-in-law, calm down. I know you’re upset about… the cuckolding.”

Damien glared at him. “Do you know how to speak? Get out of my car!”

“Father-in-law, your temper! I haven't finished. My mother-in-law's marriage was fake. Patrick Hart is an obsessed fan; he never touched her.”

“What?” Damien demanded.

“Absolutely true,” Elvis confirmed.

Damien's anger vanished, replaced by a faint smile. Of course she wouldn't like Patrick; she didn't even respect him. A sense of balance returned. “So she…”

Elvis interrupted. “Father-in-law, I’ll tell you more about my mother-in-law later. Are you free? Olive’s remarrying; I’d like to invite you to dinner.”

Damien was silent for two seconds. “No. I don’t have time.”

Elvis remained speechless. A melodious ringtone cut through the silence—Elvis’ phone. It was Amelia. She'd finally called.

“Hello.”

Amelia’s hurried voice filled the line. “I have the One Snap recipe. Send a private jet to take my brother and me out of here. I'll give you the recipe before we leave.” She needed to escape her troubles with Jean.

Elvis nodded. “Okay.”

An hour later, Amelia and her brother left. Elvis stood in the airport, holding the recipe, as Jean and his men arrived.