The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

The three chatted in the study, their conversation stretching on for hours. When they emerged, the

storm clouds on Flynn’s face were the only tell of the weighty matters they’d discussed.

In the meantime, Vivienne and Imogen had made plans to collaborate on a fashion project—a line of

evening dresses that would surely turn heads.

As the three appeared, the women approached them with eager smiles.

“Flynn, darling,” Imogen cooed, linking her arm through his, her voice a whisper of concern, “What’s

wrong?”

Flynn offered a wry smile and shook his head, a silent indication that now was not the time for such

discussions.

“I’ll take Vivienne home,” Percival announced, taking Vivienne’s hand with a gentlemanly grace.

The evening was creeping in, and with Dorian’s messages asking after her, it was clear Vivienne

needed to return to her own abode.

After bidding farewell to Richard and the others, Vivienne and Percival stepped outside where Thomas

and Anna were waiting.

“Ms. Vivienne,” Anna began, her tone solemn, “based on Belle’s intel, we located the lab where Calista

was working on the Boar Poison. But by the time we got there, they had already evacuated.”

Vivienne nodded, unsurprised. GTO’s mysterious boss would have been the first to sense anything

amiss and would have moved Calista to keep the Boar Poison within their control. Yet, the poison did

not seem that useful to her—it was curable, after all, and mainly just had a prolonged incubation period

that could disfigure a person. She had more lethal toxins at her disposal. Why were they so obsessed

with this one?

Regret washed over her as she realized the trouble her past dealings with the poison had caused.

Back then, she traded Fiona only for the medicine in her possession. To her, the medicine was more

important than the Boar Poison. Plus, she wanted to know if Fiona would use the Boar Poison on

Percival.

However, Fiona never did it. Afterward, due to how occupied Vivienne had been, she had forgotten

entirely about the Boar Poison, thus bringing so much trouble.

Thomas opened the car door for them, and as Vivienne and Percival settled inside, he mentioned,

“Percival, the boss wants to see you too.”

“Okay.”

After ensuring Vivienne was safely home, Percival headed to the headquarters. The building was quiet,

except for the light from Micah’s office.

Percival knocked on the door. “Boss, you wanted to see me?”

Micah, aged but still commanding in presence, looked up from his desk. His silver hair spoke of years

of service, and his glasses hinted at a life spent scrutinizing finer details.

The others often joked that Percival would look just like Micah in time, though Soren was certain their

captain would never sport a single wrinkle.

“Sit,” Micah gestured, pointing to the sofa with his cane.

Percival took a seat. “Working late, boss. Is there overtime pay for this?”

Micah snorted, pouring coffee. “As if you need it.”

Percival took a sip of the coffee. “Delicious. Compliments to your supplier.”

Micah smirked. “The coffee and the supplier are both exceptional. Do you know who brought it?”

Percival looked at him, waiting.

“It was my boss. He came by today inquiring about Mr. B’s whereabouts.”

“And?” Percival prompted.

“And Mr. B vanished after that press conference at the Ellington estate. I’ve lost track of her since.

Where is she?”

“Where?” Micah snorted. “She’s been under my monitor until three days ago when she went to the

launch party at your family. After that, I completely lost track of her. Where is she?”

Percival raised an eyebrow. “I was about to ask you the same thing. Why wasn’t I informed when she

had already infiltrated the Ellington Group?”

Micah sighed. “It’s classified. I couldn’t tell you.”

“Classified?” Percival’s voice held a note of irritation. “I’ve been tracking GTO for years, and now you’re

saying my job is classified? Should I be tried in a military court?”

Micah licked his lips. “I know you’re upset, Percival, but I’m just following orders. If you have Mr. B,

hand her over. I’ll handle it.”

“Don’t know, haven’t found her, still looking,” Percival replied, leaning back casually.

Micah exhaled. “You’re as stubborn as Leopold. Fine, get out of here.”

Percival stood and left swiftly, like a whirlwind passing by Micah’s side. Micah watched him go, a faint

smile playing on his lips.

Once outside headquarters, Percival texted Vivienne.

[Cover’s blown. Stay vigilant.]

Vivienne, already in bed, read the message with a slight curve of her lips. First GTO’s elusive boss, and

now Vanguard Agency.

It seemed that the undercover was getting a bit too eager.

Vivienne narrowed her eyes, staring at the three photographs that had popped up on her phone

screen.

Each person in those photos was intimately linked to the botched operation from years ago that

involved her mother.

Topping the list was Micah, a name she knew well. The other two? Just faces and code names. Their

real identities were a mystery.

There was nothing for it but to wait. Wait for them to slip up.

The following day, Percival received a stern warning from Micah himself.

[Special squad leader, Wolf, has botched the operation, key suspect gone missing, suspension

warning!]

The first to blow his top was Soren.Books Chapters Are Daily Updated Join & Stay Updated for All

Books Updates…

“Damn it! Who the hell botched the operation? Who let the key suspect slip away? Don’t the old farts

up there have a clue? Those damn geezers, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind!”

After kicking over a couple of trash cans and smashing three mugs and four plant pots, Soren was

finally restrained by Thomas and Leopold.

“Get the hell off me!”

“Will you cool it for a sec? The boss is suspended, and if you get punished too, how are we supposed

to get anything done?” Thomas pushed Soren away, fuming as he saw a tear in his newly tailored suit.

Leopold, unusually calm, panted as he sat down. “Soren, which one of us isn’t pissed? You know how it

is. They’re our superiors, after all. Let’s wait for Percival to call the shots. If he gives the green light, I’m

with you. We’ll go smash up the chief’s office!”

Meanwhile, Percival lay at home, in the house of the Ellington family, where a brand-new, unopened

Bowie knife was buried five centimeters deep into the front door.

Even without being unsheathed, the depth of the blade indicated the thrower’s strength.

Kenneth struggled to pull it out for ages without any luck. The knife would not budge.

With a lazy effort, Percival stood up and effortlessly yanked the knife from the door.

“What the heck is this about, bro?” Kenneth asked, stunned. He had put his back into trying to remove

that knife!

Percival ran a finger along the blade, leaving a mark. He chuckled and then casually tossed the knife

onto the concrete floor, where it sank in handle-deep.

“It’s nothing, kids playing house.”