Olive produced the black and gold card Elvis had given her. Everyone recognized such cards; they were symbols of wealth and affluence. The cashier swiftly accepted it, exclaiming, “Sure, Miss!” Olive settled the bill in seconds.

Gwen’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “How could that girl have such a card? And didn’t I just see ‘Augustine’ on it?” Gwen knew little of Elvis, as he wasn’t acquainted with her. However, in LA, “Augustine” instantly evoked Elvis Augustine.

Pamela, striving to maintain composure, couldn’t hide the irritation creasing her face. She was certain the card belonged to Elvis Augustine. How could Olive possess it?

Olive, having paid and gathered her slightly heavy bags, stopped beside Pamela, smiling softly. “What would you call this?”

Pamela’s face darkened. “You know Elvis Augustine? What’s your relationship with him?”

“Pamela, you’re not that dumb. Guess for yourself. A man hands his card to a woman… what do you think?”

Pamela’s eyes mirrored Monica’s resentment. She loathed Olive and North, a hatred stemming from childhood. Olive and North had always been the center of attention, while Pamela often felt invisible.

“Do you regret your actions, Pamela? Why demand a million dollars when you could have asked for his card? Too bad you’ll never experience the pleasure that comes with it.” Olive smirked, exiting the boutique with North.

North was awestruck. “Girl, you’re ruthless! Not telling Pamela about your relationship with Elvis… perfect. The thought of not having it will drive her crazy.”

Olive agreed. She knew Pamela's twisted craving for attention and fame. Robbing her of everything and winning at her own game would surely unhinge her. “North, where are we going? We’ve bought a lot.”

North snorted. “Mr. Augustine must’ve received the debit alert by now.”

Olive felt embarrassed. Using the card, her heart had pounded. Now, she felt certain she'd overspent. “What will Elvis think?” she muttered.

North pulled her arm. “Olive, a woman who knows how to spend makes a man love her more. What’s Mr. Augustine afraid of? A few hundred thousand? He’s way beyond that.”

Olive couldn’t argue. North took her to a nail salon. “Let’s get a manicure.”

Olive, a medical student focused on pharmacology, had never had a manicure. She lacked time for such things.

The manicurist asked, “Pretty girls, what kind of manicure would you like? Need a recommendation?”

North shook her head. “No, thank you. We’ll choose.” With North’s aesthetic sense, they needed no help.

“Olive, what do you like?”

Olive, captivated by the nail art book, flipped through it. North pointed to a pink shade. “How about this?”

The manicurist praised the choice. “Pink is a spring color, perfect for young girls.”

Olive was young enough. North added softly, “Men will definitely like it.” Elvis, of course.

“Uhm, which color are you getting?” Olive quickly changed the subject.

North browsed the book. “I’m finding one my boss will like.” Olive knew she meant Raven.

Two years prior, after her eighteenth birthday, North had left the Domino family home, pursuing a career in the entertainment industry – a double-edged sword of fame and potential exploitation. Raven, her benefactor, had secured a good producer and manager for her.

Olive leaned closer. “Raven seems cold. Tougher than Elvis.”

Without looking up, North replied, “You’re deceived by his appearance. He’s kind and less arrogant than Mr. Augustine.” She chose a red polish. “This, ma’am.” The color was undeniably alluring.

The manicurist finished with Olive. Olive, barefoot, went to the balcony. She saw a tall figure at the door – Raven.

“Mr. Raven, you’re here,” Olive said, smiling.

Raven glanced at the salon. “Where’s North?”

“She’s getting a pedicure. She’ll be done soon.” Olive showed him the nail art book. “Mr. Raven, which color do you think is better?”