Olive withdrew the black and gold card Elvis had given her. Everyone recognized these cards; they were symbols of wealth and affluence. The cashier quickly accepted it, exclaiming enthusiastically, "Sure, Miss!" Olive settled the bill in seconds.

Gwen's jaw dropped in disbelief. "How could that girl have such a card? Besides, didn't I just see 'Augustine' on it?" Gwen knew little about Elvis, as he was unfamiliar with her. However, in LA, the name "Augustine" instantly evoked Elvis Augustine.

Pamela, struggling to maintain her composure, visibly faltered; an irritable crack appeared on her face. She was certain the card belonged to Elvis Augustine. How could Olive possess it?

Olive, having paid and collected her slightly heavy bags, stopped beside Pamela and smiled softly. "What would you call this?"

Pamela's face clouded. "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 their relationship is?"

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 were you so stupid to 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 and exited the boutique with North.

North was awestruck by Olive's boldness. "Girl, you're ruthless! Not telling Pamela about your relationship with Elvis? Perfect. The thought of not possessing it will drive her crazy."

Olive agreed. She knew Pamela well; her psychology was twisted, marked by a constant craving for attention and fame. Robbing her of everything and winning at her own game would undoubtedly send Pamela over the edge. "North, where are we going now? We've bought a lot."

North snorted. "Mr. Augustine must've received the debit alert by now."

Olive felt embarrassed. Using the card had made her heart race, and now she regretted some of her purchases. "What would 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 had never had one. Focused on her medical studies, she'd had little 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 ourselves." With North's aesthetic sense, they needed no help.

"Olive, what do you like?"

Olive browsed the nail art book, captivated by the colors. North pointed to a pink shade. "How about this?"

The manicurist praised the choice. "Pink is so spring-like, perfect for young girls."

Olive certainly qualified. North added softly, "Men will definitely like it." Her meaning was clear: Elvis was a man.

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

North flipped through the book. "I'm looking for a color my boss will like."

As her best friend, Olive knew North meant Raven. Two years after her eighteenth birthday, North had left the Domino family home, pursuing a career in the entertainment industry, a double-edged sword where one could find fame or be exploited. Raven had secured a good producer and manager for her.

Olive leaned closer. "Raven seems very cold. Even tougher than Elvis."

Without looking up, North replied, "You're deceived by his appearance. He's kind and less arrogant than Mr. Augustine." She pointed to a color. "This one, ma'am."

Olive saw North had chosen red—a rather flirtatious shade. Once Olive's manicure was finished, and another worker began on North's, Olive went to the balcony. She saw a tall figure at the door. Raven entered.

"Mr. Raven, you're here," Olive said with a smile.

Raven glanced at the salon. "Where's North?"

"She's getting a pedicure. She'll be finished soon." Olive pushed the nail art book toward Raven. "Mr. Raven, which color do you think looks better?"