Chapter 32: My Woman Around Him
The crowd dispersed. Patrick helped Pearl to her feet and asked, “Are you alright?”
Pearl shook her head. “I’m alright, sir.”
“I’ve booked a room here. You can wash up first. I’ll have someone buy you a new set of clothes. Afterward, go to the hospital. You have many injuries.”
Pearl stared at Patrick in a daze. Though she always clung to Gabriella, she had never spoken to Patrick. She thanked him, her face pale. “Okay, thank you, sir.”
Patrick left Pearl to her privacy and went to socialize. It was a presidential suite; Pearl had never experienced such luxury. Everything felt opulent, a glimpse into the upper class. Soon, Patrick’s secretary arrived with a dress—an international brand. Pearl entered the bathroom and showered, washing away the dirt and humiliation Gabriella had inflicted. She looked in the mirror; her slapped face was reddened, but her beauty remained undiminished. Remembering the humiliation, she clenched her fists. Her poverty had made her a target for bullies. She didn't want this life anymore. This golden opportunity—to be with Patrick!—was right in front of her. The thought of becoming a Hart, Gabriella and Olive's stepmother, brought a smile to her lips.
Patrick returned to the suite after the party, heavily intoxicated. He collapsed on the bed. His phone rang—Monica. He ignored the call. Since he'd slapped her outside the hotel, she'd been causing him trouble. Monica had considerable capital and had secured him numerous business deals in recent years. But he couldn't forget his ex-wife, which infuriated Monica. The insistent ringing finally prompted Patrick to silence his phone. He took out his wallet and gazed at a picture inside: Trisha, Olive’s mother. The photo, taken on a summer afternoon, showed Trisha sitting in a flower-covered wicker chair, holding a medical book. Olive strongly resembled her. Patrick's fingers traced Trisha's eyebrows fondly.
Pearl emerged from the bathroom and approached the bed. Patrick was asleep, murmuring Trisha's name. Pearl reached out and began to undress him. Despite being in his forties, Patrick’s frequent exercise maintained his muscular physique; he was mature and powerful. Suddenly, he grabbed her. “Who are you?”
Pearl, startled by his awakening, panicked. “Uncle, it’s me, I…”
“Trisha, are you back?”
Patrick pulled Pearl into his arms and pulled her under him.
Olive learned of Gabriella’s violent assault on Pearl. The “plastic sisters” hadn’t lasted; neither disappointed her. Olive felt no sympathy for Pearl, believing her greed and vanity had led to her predicament. She planned to visit Pearl, but Derrick found her.
“Olly, I finally found you.”
“Derrick, why are you looking for me?”
Derrick grasped Olive’s hand. “Let’s go. I want to take you somewhere.”
Olive quickly pulled away. “Derrick, you’re so impatient. Don’t touch me if you want me to go with you.”
Derrick, seemingly unfazed by her reaction, released her hand. “Let’s go then.”
Olive followed.
They arrived at a luxurious room. Derrick gestured inside. “Olive, see for yourself.”
Smoke hung in the air; the room was filled with Los Angeles dignitaries playing cards, including Elvis Augustine—absent from home for two days. Several expensively dressed women, top-tier KissLand escorts, were present. Elvis had two beauties by his side. A sharp pain pierced Olive’s heart, a dull ache that reddened her eyes.
Olive turned and fled, unable to bear the sight. Derrick followed, initially wanting to see her sadness, but her distress angered him.
“Olive, do you like him?”
Olive turned. “Yes, I like him. What does this have to do with you?”
“Olive, you’ve seen it. He’s toying with you. Men like him have no shortage of women. What is there to like?”
Olive’s eyes were red-rimmed. She knew about his other women but couldn’t control her feelings.
“Derrick, I guess you’re satisfied. And if you are, leave. I like him, not you!”
Derrick’s face darkened. He sneered. “Olive, I shouldn’t have bothered. Continue your obsession. My engagement party is in two days. Be there.”
Derrick left angrily. Olive leaned against the wall, head bowed, experiencing heartbreak for the first time. Elvis had broken her heart.
The bar manager thrust a glass of wine into Olive’s hand. “What are you still doing here? The luxurious room needs wine. Serve carefully; it’s full of LA socialites.”
Mistaking Olive for staff, he pushed her into the room before she could protest. The commotion attracted the poker players, including Harry, whose eyes lit up upon seeing Olive. He nudged the man opposite. “Bro, guess who’s here?”