The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

Outside the hospital room, Heloise pressed her ear against the door, straining to catch snippets of

conversation from within, but the soundproofing was too effective; not a whisper escaped.

Unaware of her eavesdropping, Richard swung the door open, sending Heloise tumbling forward. Much

to her chagrin, she landed with a graceless thud on the tiled floor.

“What on earth are you doing? Have you no decorum? Making a spectacle of yourself!” Richard

scolded, thumping his cane on the ground before striding away in disgust.

He had not gotten far when Percival and Vivienne approached, arm in arm.

“Grandpa,” they greeted Richard.

His mood visibly lifted at the sight of them. “What brings you two here? Fiona’s resting now; let’s head

back.”

No sooner had he spoken than Heloise charged forward, her face contorted in rage.

“Vivienne, you wretched girl, you have the nerve to show up here after what you’ve done to my

daughter.”

In a fit of fury, Heloise snatched up a trash can from the corridor and hurled it at Vivienne.

Vivienne did not flinch, too bored to even bat an eyelash.

With a swift kick, Percival sent the trash can flying back to its sender, zeroing in on Heloise’s

unsuspecting head.

Caught off guard, Heloise stood frozen as the can collided with her skull, spilling its contents over her.

Part-eaten fast food, disgusting fluids, and a medley of sticky, used tissues tumbled down, a revolting

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mess enveloping her.

Remarkably, Heloise’s slender frame had managed to lift the bin in the first place.

A nurse passing by hesitated, recognizing Heloise as the lady of the Ellington family’s second branch.

But Richard’s furious shout echoed down the hallway, “Let her be! She can pick herself up when she

comes to!”

With that, Vivienne and Percival escorted Richard away, leaving Heloise sprawled amid the trash, her

limited-edition velvet dress marinating in filth.

A woman with long hair watched the scene from the shadows. Only after Vivienne and Percival

departed did she don a mask and slip into Fiona’s room.

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Fiona, previously feigning sleep, opened her eyes with more strength than she had shown during her

earlier conversation with Richard.

“Mr. B, in such a hurry?” She teased with a smile.

The woman stood beside Fiona’s bed and injected something into her IV bag. “I thought your first

words to me would be of gratitude for rescuing you.”

Fiona watched the liquid drip slowly into her line, her expression darkening.

“You’re just following orders. What do I have to thank you for?” Fiona sat up, gasping for breath.

The medication was the very cause of her heart condition.

Mr. B flicked her hair back and pocketed the empty syringe. “You were foolish to fall for such an

obvious trap. I can’t fathom what the boss sees in you.”

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“Mind your own business,” retorted Fiona, clutching her chest. After a few moments, her breathing

steadied.

Mr. B watched coldly until Fiona’s color returned. She then produced a box of pills from her pocket.

“Take one each night for the first week, then one a week after that. Any more, and you might actually

die. Good luck.”

With that, Mr. B left the room.

Fiona secured the pills and called after Mr. B’s retreating figure, “Killing Percival with Boar Poison won’t

be easy. Vivienne knows how to cure the Boar Poison.”

“Thanks for the advice. Get well soon,” Mr. B replied without turning, a smirk playing on her lips.

Fiona lay back down, staring at the sterile ceiling, trapped in a web of others’ designs.

…

Elsewhere, in Percival’s car, Vivienne sat in the passenger seat while Percival and Richard occupied

the back.

“Vivienne, is there really no hope for Fiona?” Richard queried.

Vivienne nodded. “I’ve seen her medical records. There’s a chance for recovery, Grandpa, but she

might not want it.”

Richard understood her implication. A healed Fiona would likely return to jail, while her current state

afforded her a semblance of freedom. Plus, the second branch of the family might not trust Vivienne’s

intervention.

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He had asked merely to gauge whether Fiona’s condition was fatal. The prospect of burying a younger

family member was not an experience he wished to endure.

As long as Vivienne believed Fiona would be alright with proper care, that was enough for him.

“That’s good to hear,” Richard said, looking at Vivienne. “I’m sorry you’ve been put through this.”

Vivienne chuckled. “There’s no need, Richard. I’m not troubled in the slightest.”

She indeed felt no hardship. If CK’s second-in-command landed in prison without any fuss from the

organization, her adversaries were weaker than she thought.

Catching Vivienne’s mischievous grin in the rear-view mirror, Percival knew she was plotting

something.

She winked at him through the mirror, her bright face brimming with charm.

Percival suppressed a smile, returning his focus to the road ahead.

“Grandpa, isn’t Uncle Flynn due back next month?” Percival inquired after a moment.

“Yes, that rascal,” Richard grumbled. “Always a worry, and now he’s coming back.”

“I’ll tell him to stay away a bit longer, save you the stress,” Percival said, reaching for his phone.

“Hah! Vivienne, give him a pinch for me!”

“Sure thing, Grandpa. Where should I aim?” Vivienne teased, pretending to ready an acupuncture

needle, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Richard.

Percival’s mouth twitched in a feeble protest, “Darling, have mercy.”

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“Grandpa, is that okay?” Vivienne asked.

Richard gave a noncommittal grunt, “That’s more like it. Next time, then.”

Their playful banter had lightened the mood in the car quite a bit.

After dropping Richard off at the Ellington estate, Percival retreated to his room for some rest.

Vivienne did not have much on her plate; she had only wanted to glance over Fiona’s medical records

at the hospital. Now that she was done, she felt at ease knowing what was happening.

Sitting on a swing in the Ellington’s backyard garden, Vivienne was surrounded by an assortment of

fruits and petit fours, with a fat cat nestled comfortably in her lap, enjoying the strokes she gave its

head.

“How come you’ve never mentioned your uncle before?” Vivienne asked in between bites of a freshly

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Percival sat beside her, his brow furrowing slightly, “My uncle? He’s quite the looker.”

“Hmm?” Vivienne paused, surprised. It was the first time she had ever heard Percival compliment

someone else’s looks.

Percival draped an arm around Vivienne’s shoulder and speared a piece of orange from the plate,

popping it into his mouth. “My uncle is the most handsome man in the Ellington family; I’ve always

looked up to him since I was a kid.”

This piqued Vivienne’s interest, and she snatched Percival’s hand, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Pictures? Show me!”

A man even more handsome than Mr. Wolf!

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Just how gorgeous could he be?

As a self-confessed beauty enthusiast, Vivienne could not let such an opportunity slip by!

Percival’s brow furrowed deeper, and he quirked the corner of his eye. “I don’t have any!”

“That’s impossible.” Vivienne tugged at his hand, “Come on, just a peek.”

“Not even a peek. I don’t have any.”

“Mr. Wolf!”

“No way!”

Vivienne bit her lip in a pout, “You won’t?”

Percival shook his head resolutely, “Won’t.”

“Fine!”

With that, Vivienne hopped off the swing, slipped on her shoes, and made a beeline for the living room.

Just then, Cecilia walked in with Isolde in tow.

“Hey, Vivienne, you’re home! Look what I’ve got. Let’s snack together.” Isolde, carrying a bag full of

treats, ran over to Vivienne.

Vivienne scooped up Isolde in her arms. “Isolde, do you have a photo of Uncle Flynn? Show me,

please.”

“Vivienne, you want to see Flynn’s picture?” Cecilia set down her belongings and pulled out her

smartphone, scrolling for Flynn’s photo, “Here you go.”

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