Chapter 712: Who Is She?

Looking at Olive’s nervous and concerned expression, Bounty felt a surge of anger. She’d always felt Elvis unworthy of such a good girl.

“Olive, nothing happened to Elvis. Don’t worry. He’s fine,” Bounty reassured, handing Olive a photograph she’d taken earlier.

Olive immediately saw Elvis, holding a girl in his arms. The girl wore his suit, her face buried against his. They looked intimately close.

Scandalous rumors had swirled around Elvis for years. Various women had hovered, but he’d always maintained distance. This girl was different. Olive’s sharp intuition told her instantly how special she was to Elvis.

Who was she? Olive recalled Elvis saying he had to attend to a company emergency instead of picking her up. The truth was, he was with this girl. He'd lied—a first in their many years together. He'd lied because of this girl.

“Olive, before I arrived, I saw Elvis outside the Express Hotel,” Bounty explained. “This girl, Naomi, is from a poor family. She’s married, but her husband abuses her. I heard he took her to a room and whipped her. Elvis rushed in to save her, carrying her away.”

Olive was silent for a few seconds. Then, “Principal Bounty, thank you. I’ll take you home, then go see Elvis and ask him about Naomi.”

Observing Olive’s calm intelligence, Bounty said, “Olive, don’t be afraid. If Elvis hurts you, leave him. Many men would love to be with you.”

Olive smiled at Bounty’s words. After taking Bounty home, she went straight to Elvis’s villa.

A maid opened the door. Peterson hurried over. “Miss Hart, why didn’t you tell us you were coming? I could have picked you up,” he said tensely.

Olive smiled. “I wanted a surprise. To see if my master is picking up girls behind my back.”

Peterson’s guilt was evident in his flashing eyes. “Where’s Elvis? Upstairs?” Olive asked. She started towards the stairs.

“Miss Hart,” Peterson blocked her path. “Please sit down. I’ll inform the master.”

Olive halted, straightened, and fixed her bright eyes on him. “Get out of my way!”

Peterson recoiled. Olive wasn’t ordinary. As the daughter of Visionary, her courage matched her master's. He dared not defy her.

He stepped aside, muttering inwardly, “Master, you’re playing with fire!”

Olive went upstairs and opened the guest room door. The pungent smell of disinfectant filled the air. Doctors and nurses treated Naomi’s wounds.

Naomi, in a white dress, lay timidly on the bed, wincing in pain as the disinfectant touched her injuries. Her large eyes were red and filled with misery. Elvis watched anxiously beside her.

The door opened. Elvis saw Olive. “Olive, why are you here?” He rushed to her, taking her hand.

Olive smiled, even winking. “I heard you picked up a girl, so I came to see.”

Elvis’s sharp gaze briefly flicked to Peterson, who instantly began to sweat.

Olive’s bright eyes shifted from Elvis to Naomi, who also stared at her with large, red eyes.

Olive approached the bedside. Looking down at Naomi, she smiled at Elvis. “Who is she, Mr. Augustine?”

Elvis, sensing Olive’s unusually bright smile, held her hand tighter. “Her name is Naomi.”

“Big Brother, I…” Naomi began, timidly.

Olive interrupted. “Big brother? Mr. Augustine, I wasn’t aware Aunt Annabelle had a daughter.”

Elvis’s lips tightened. He wrapped his arms around Olive’s waist. “She’s Naomi, a girl I hit with my car last night. I brought her here.”

Olive hadn’t spoken to Naomi; her presence alone had overwhelmed her. Naomi sat pale and weak.

Peterson, at the door, gave Olive a silent thumbs-up. Her impact was undeniable.

Olive pushed Elvis away, seemingly remembering Naomi’s presence. “Peterson, get me a chair,” she instructed.

Peterson quickly obliged. Olive sat near the bed, her bright eyes fixed on Naomi. As Peterson moved to leave, he felt Elvis's furious gaze. Elvis glared resentfully, while Peterson stood silently.