Chapter 521: A Family of Three

Elvis, tall and handsome, stood at the room's door. His white shirt hung loose from his trousers, accentuating his striking appearance. Three years had honed his features, imbuing him with a raw intensity. His status and wealth only amplified his undeniable masculine charm. He had achieved everything a man could. Countless women had flocked to him in the past three years; even the maids blushed in his presence. With a forceful kick, he flung open the door and strode inside.

Little Nathan lay on the bed, his body concealed under a blanket, his head barely visible. "Nathan, your skin's itchy, isn't it?" Elvis knelt beside the bed, lifting the quilt. His patience had worn thin. He'd cared for his son for three years. Yet, when he'd last seen Olive at the Emperor's Clubhouse, her face was as fresh as a rose petal; she even seemed to flaunt her recovered health. He recalled her previous illness. The once fierce old woman was now completely healed, a transformation he attributed to her reunion with her mother, Joyce Brown, in Visionary.

Elvis roughly tossed aside the blanket, tapping Nathan's buttocks. A painting in Nathan's hands tumbled onto the bedsheet. Elvis's keen eyes lingered on the drawing. "What's this?" he asked. Nathan, upon returning home, had locked himself in his room. He'd been drawing. The picture depicted a slender, pretty woman with long, flowing hair strolling with a small boy in warm sunlight. Anyone could see the boy was Nathan; the woman, his imagined mother—and she strikingly resembled Olive. A frown creased Elvis's face. "Nathan, what are you drawing?" he asked, his tone unhappy.

Nathan's large, dark eyes met his father's. He knew his father disliked any mention of his mother; any reference would incite his anger. He quickly scooped up the painting and hid it under his pillow. Elvis's heart ached at his son's careful movements. He remembered his own furious outburst when his grandmother mentioned Olive, when Nathan was only a few months old. The child had been terrified, hiding in a corner, trembling uncontrollably.

Over the past two years, Nathan had matured. Yet, Elvis couldn't recall a single instance of Nathan asking about his mother. He'd never mentioned her. But Elvis knew Nathan longed for his mother's love, needing it more than most children. For his father's sake, he remained cautious. Everyone knew Nathan's autism and inability to speak were linked to Elvis.

A wave of tenderness washed over Elvis. How could he continue to sever the connection between Nathan and Olive, to keep Olive from Imperial? He'd intended to do just that. He sat on the bed's edge, retrieved the painting, and frowned. "Nathan, what are you painting? It's just you and Mummy. Where's me?"

Nathan's usually dull eyes brightened. He stared at his father in disbelief. He'd painted his mother, and his father wasn't angry? He quickly picked up his paintbrush and added his father to the picture. Elvis's frown deepened. He was relegated to the background. He couldn't bear it. "Get up," he snapped, his temper flaring, "get out of here and take a shower!"

Nathan scrambled off the bed and ran to the bathroom. "Let Aunt Layla help you," Elvis instructed. Nathan protested; boys and girls didn't bathe together! Elvis had no choice but to follow him. "Then I'll help you."

In the bathroom, Nathan undressed and stepped under the shower. Elvis removed his shirt and entered. Nathan looked up at his father. The bright yellow light illuminated Elvis's handsome face, its features sharp and flawless. Though Nathan yearned for his mother, he loved his father deeply.

Elvis knelt, applying lotion to Nathan's chest. He understood his son's unspoken plea. "What do you want to ask? You have a mouth. Use it," he said gently.

Nathan looked at his father. He had never spoken, but he looked at his father's handsome face and said solemnly, "You only have one chance. It's already been given to you. If you miss it, there won't be another chance."

Elvis had never forced Nathan to speak, knowing it was futile. But now, understanding his son's desire to ask about his mother, he felt a profound shift within himself.