Olive had been waiting for Aunt Rebecca to wake up so she could find out all that had happened that year.

“Kelvin was the housekeeper; later, Miss married the housekeeper’s son,” Aunt Rebecca uttered, letting out a cough. “Aunt Rebecca, I really don’t understand what you mean. Please explain it to me step by step.”

Aunt Rebecca looked at Olive lovingly.

“Little Miss, as long as you get back the box your mother left for you, you’ll understand all of this.”

After she finished speaking, Aunt Rebecca tiredly closed her eyes and fell back into a coma. Olive stared at her, surprised. She hastily called the doctor.

Olive arrived with the doctor, who examined Aunt Rebecca and said strangely, “Miss Hart, the patient’s health has been poor, but it seems she’d taken some sort of pill. The pill has been preventing her heart from failing.”

Olive checked her pulse; just as the doctor had said, Aunt Rebecca had a life-saving pill in her body. She hadn’t noticed it a month and a half ago when she’d last checked. To sustain someone's life for so many years unnoticed required impressive medical skill.

Olive knew it was her mother. She knew Aunt Rebecca had taken the pill before her mother passed away. Things were becoming increasingly complicated; it felt as if a huge net shrouded her.

Olive’s phone rang. It was Patrick. She wasn’t surprised; she knew he was calling to ask about her relationship with Augustine, the wealthy boss.

Olive answered. “Hello, Dad.”

“Olive, hurry home. I have something to ask you,” Patrick said anxiously.

Olive pursed her lips. “Okay, Dad. I also have something to tell you.”

Olive first went to her grandmother’s room. Mr. Hart was still in a coma, but after her last injection, he seemed to be slowly recovering. Olive gave him a second injection. The old man had been in a vegetative state for ten years.

Putting the needle away, Olive quietly looked at him. “Grandpa, Aunt Rebecca said you were Mom’s housekeeper. What did she mean? She also said Mom came to LA; could it be that Mom wasn’t from LA? Who was the man she was terrified of?” she questioned calmly, sighing.

Patrick walked in. “Olive, come to my study.”

Olive followed him. His face was ugly and cold.

“Dad, did Pamela tell you something? That I was with Elvis Augustine, right?” Olive asked.

Patrick didn’t deny it. “Pamela told me you have Elvis’s card. I remember at Gabriella’s birthday party, the Royal Star Hotel manager sent a Rolls-Royce to drive you home. Are you sleeping with Elvis?”

Olive’s bright eyes filled with disgust. “Did you say the same to Pamela? That she was sleeping with Elvis Augustine?”

“You two are different. Pamela isn’t married, but you are,” Patrick defended.

“I can still get a divorce, right? Pamela and I are both your daughters. Elvis Augustine will still be your son-in-law regardless of whom he marries. What’s the difference?”

Patrick scoffed. Of course, it wasn’t the same; there was a huge difference. Olive wasn’t his biological daughter. News of Augustine investing over a million dollars into his company had elated Patrick; everyone wanted to associate with him. Learning of Olive’s entanglement with Elvis nearly drove him to anger.

“President Augustine belongs to Pamela, and she intends to marry him. So Olive, break up with President Augustine,” Patrick reprimanded sternly.

Olive chuckled indifferently. “Dad, don’t you think whoever marries President Augustine depends solely on who President Augustine likes?”

Olive’s words ignited Patrick’s anger. The study door opened, and Pamela walked in.

Pamela looked at Patrick soothingly. “Dad, don’t worry about Olive. I know what to do.”

Patrick was satisfied. He took a deep breath and focused on Olive. “You’re also my responsibility. I know I haven’t disciplined you properly. I’ll find a university for you. Look at Pamela; she finished her studies abroad and has been accepted by the Ivory Council.”

Olive looked at Pamela. “You’ve been accepted into the Ivory Council?”

“Yes. I haven’t had time to tell you. I was accepted into the medical institute,” Pamela said proudly.

Olive pondered. “Dad, I also want to enter the Ivory Council.”

“What did you say?” Patrick thought he’d misheard. He attacked her ruthlessly. “You want to enter the Ivory Council? Are you dreaming? Have you even been to college? How will they admit you?”

Olive was still very young; she’d only graduated from high school.

Contempt flickered in Pamela’s eyes. “Olive, we don’t mean to look down on you, but you definitely won’t be able to enter the Ivory Council.”

“We’ll see,” Olive smiled lightly and walked out.

“Pay no attention to her; she’s crazy. If she can enter the Ivory Council, I’ll… forget it, it’s not possible,” Patrick muttered.

Pamela returned to her room, took out her phone, and called Gwen. “Let me tell you something hilarious that happened…”