Chapter 500

Three years later. Olive was gone! Damien, Alpha, and Logan lunged forward, but the full moon vanished behind swiftly gathering dark clouds, extinguishing the bright moonlight and concealing the sparkling river before them. “Ooohwhoo~” Wolves howled at the sky, then vanished into the restricted area. Silence descended. The world fell silent as if nothing had happened. Olive and Derrick had disappeared—they had gone home.

Logan, witnessing Olive's disappearance, snorted, then a smile touched his lips. "Joyce and Olive will be back one day!" He waved, departed, and returned to Greenland.

Alpha remained, watching Olive's departure. A flicker of something crossed his deep, narrow eyes before he regained his composure. Damien lowered his gaze, spotting a letter on the ground—Joyce Brown's letter to Olive, which had fallen when Olive stabbed Elvis. He picked it up, glanced at the contents, and raised an eyebrow. Joyce hadn't mentioned him. Damien laughed furiously.

"Young master, let us stop the bleeding," Peterson and Ray called, tending to Elvis's wounds. Olive's knife had pierced his heart.

Elvis lay on the ground, watching Olive's retreating figure. She never looked back. Her last words: "Elvis, you said it yourself. If you die, I can leave."

He gently closed his eyes, sweet memories flashing—now, the sharpest weapons, pounding against his heart, shattering his defenses. Before Olive, he'd never loved. He had given her everything. Love, it turned out, was the strongest poison, leaving one oblivious to life or death. He would never love again.

He thought of her betrayal, her abandonment, pushing him into the abyss. Seriously injured, watching her leave with another man, pregnant with his child… Olive was cruel. His clenched fist relaxed, the hand that longed to hold hers finally released its desperate grip. Unforgettable love had become deep hatred. He hated her. Hatred consumed him.

Elvis opened his eyes, his long, narrow eyes bloodshot, dark, paranoid, bloodthirsty, and terrifying.

The Sulnier Bride: Deted by My Billionaire Husband

Three years later. Greenland's palace buzzed; it was Clara Theodore's twentieth birthday. For three years, Clara's mother, Molly—Logan's favored concubine—had ensured Clara's position as Logan's most beloved daughter and Greenland's most prestigious princess. A lavish birthday party was underway, attended by all the high-ranking officials.

Clara, in a pink princess dress, was surrounded by admirers. "Princess, you are so beautiful today," they gushed. "Who doesn't know our Princess Clara is the most beautiful princess in Greenland?"

Someone whispered excitedly, "Princess Clara, I heard Elvis Augustine, the head of the Red Mafia and the world's top tycoon, will be here to celebrate your birthday. Is that true?"

The mention of Elvis ignited excitement. Three years ago, he had survived. His Red Mafia had since dominated the global economy, propelling him to the top of the financial world. Ask a child who's the richest, and the answer would be Elvis Augustine.

Yet, Elvis lived a secluded life, a mysterious figure in business publications and magazines. His love life remained a secret. At thirty-two, he was at his prime, still single, but women constantly surrounded him. Recently, he'd dined with a petroleum tycoon's daughter, spending the night in a seven-star hotel's presidential suite.

This was normal, even to Clara and the other wealthy women. A thirty-two-year-old man has needs. These women sought a title, the coveted position of wife to the world's richest man. Many bet on Clara; she and Elvis had been in contact for three years, and as Greenland's most beautiful and noble princess, she seemed the perfect match.

Clara smiled sweetly upon hearing this. "President Augustine is usually very busy. I don't know if he can make it."

The banquet hall doors opened; Elvis's secretary, Andrew, and two men in black approached Clara. A hush fell.

Clara asked, "Secretary Andrew, is President Augustine here?"

Andrew smiled politely, yet distantly. "Sorry, Princess Clara, the president is busy and unable to attend."

Clara thought of his dinner with the petroleum tycoon's daughter.

She smiled. "It's okay. President Augustine sent Secretary Andrew to congratulate me; I'm already very happy."

"Princess, although the president couldn't be here, his gift has arrived."