Chapter 542: Sir, please save me!

Elvis pursed his lips. “Nathan, what else do you know?” He felt like he’d given birth to a miniature CEO. Lil’ Nathan shook his head. “That’s all. Mom’s past has been hidden by you, hasn’t it? So, do you want to tell me a story now? For example, the love story between you and Mom?”

Elvis felt increasingly like he was being scolded by his superior. He snorted. “Nathan, aren’t you awfully brave? Go see for yourself.”

Lil’ Nathan obediently sat in his car seat, his calves gracefully overlapping. “Yes, I understand. It’s not exactly an honor to be abandoned by my mother, is it? Don’t worry, Dad, even if I know what happened, I won’t laugh at you.”

Elvis felt like he was about to bleed. Just then, his phone rang—a melodious ringtone. It was Raven. Elvis answered. “Hello.”

“Elvis, what have you been up to? I heard you’ve been staying home since Olive returned. Planning to become a housewife? Let’s go out for a drink!”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

Elvis hung up. Half an hour later, the luxury Rolls-Royce Phantom stopped. Nathan opened the back door himself and hopped out. He stood there, waving a small hand. “Dad, goodbye.”

“Come in,” Elvis said.

“Okay,” Lil’ Nathan replied, glancing at his father before leaving. “Dad, it’s fine to go to the bar, but don’t mess around. If you can’t handle the women, I’ll help you. Take care of your lower body, Dad.”

After saying that, Lil’ Nathan left. Elvis, threatened and warned by his own son, was perhaps the first father in history to receive such advice. How did Olive give birth to such a child? He had a subtle feeling that there was more to his son than met the eye.

The Royal Bar. This establishment was a haven for men. Good wine and beautiful women were its main attractions, drawing in the city’s wealthy and powerful. In a luxurious private room, the waiter opened the door, and Elvis entered. Several business executives were present, including Raven Dominos.

Raven sat on a dark red sofa, smoking a cigarette, his handsome face obscured by the smoke. He seemed in a bad mood, his whole demeanor gloomy.

“Mr. Augustine, you’re here. Mr. Dominos has been waiting,” a director said.

“Mr. Augustine, what have you been up to? Long time no see,” another asked.

“Mr. Augustine, please have a seat.”

Elvis removed his overcoat and sat beside Raven. The room was dimly lit, but their seats commanded the attention of the room. Elvis wore a black shirt; a sales executive offered him a cigarette, which was lit for him. He leaned back lazily on the sofa, frowning as he took a deep drag.

A business executive nudged the woman beside him. “Go, go to Mr. Augustine.”

The moment Elvis arrived, the women in the room perked up. He was, after all, Imperial’s richest boss.

“President Augustine!” Two beauties approached, their voices melodious. “Boss Augustine, these are the bar’s top ladies. What do you think?”

The swirling blue smoke veiled Elvis’ handsome face. He lowered his head slightly, tapping the ashtray with his long fingers, but his narrow eyes did not meet the women's.

The executives realized Elvis wasn't in the mood. Everyone knew Elvis had a revolving door of women, but not all women appealed to him. If he wasn't interested, it was difficult to gain his favor. Clearly, he didn't like these two.

“Go back, don't spoil Mr. Augustine's mood,” one boss said.

“Mr. Augustine and Mr. Dominos aren't in the best of moods tonight,” another added.

The beauties retreated, frustrated. In truth, they had been ignored by Raven as well. Raven, a powerful figure, maintained a surprisingly private life. He had no girlfriend, not even rumored ones. At twenty-nine, his handsome, gentle face and aura of abstinence captivated many, though his young sister, North—the most beautiful "red thorny rose" in showbiz—was his most popular association. For years, Raven hadn't sought a girlfriend, focusing solely on protecting North. Their close relationship fueled speculation: were they truly siblings, or something more? Either Raven wasn't playing the game, or he was playing it masterfully.

Elvis and Raven, two prominent men, sat without female company, smoking, their privacy undisturbed. Elvis glanced at Raven. “What’s wrong? North upset you again?” North was arguably the only person capable of making Raven so irritable.

Raven remained silent, taking another long drag of his cigarette. Elvis stubbed out his cigarette, stood up. “Enjoy yourselves. I'm going outside for some air.” He left.

He was walking down the hallway when he heard a shout, “Stop! Don’t run!” A terrified girl ran toward him, crying, “Help!” Two men in black pursued her, trying to push her to the ground. She struggled violently. “Don’t catch me! Please, I don’t want to sell myself! I don’t want to work here!”

“Harper, this is your contract. Your father sold you. He took seventy thousand dollars. Do you still refuse?”

“My father lost a bet, but I don’t want to be sold…”

Then, a pair of shiny black leather shoes entered Harper’s line of sight. She grabbed the man’s leg, crying, “Sir, help me!”

The two men in black looked up and bowed respectfully. “President Augustine.”

Harper slowly raised her face. She saw expensive black trousers, a black shirt, and a handsome, noble face above.