The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

The Order of Nine Mystics Society announced that the owner of the red sports car was located in less

than ten minutes.

However, the person was already dead.

Due to driving under the influence of alcohol, he was dead on arrival!

By the time the coroner and the police arrived at the scene, Percival’s car was nothing but a charred

shell, and that red sports car was not in much better shape.

The vehicle had exploded due to the accident, and the owner, having lost consciousness from the

drunk driving, met his end in the flames, burned alive.

The identity of the owner of the red sports car was also investigated.

A laid-off factory worker, just fired yesterday, drowned his sorrows in alcohol at noon today, only to end

up in a fatal crash.

No money had been received by family or friends.

It all seemed like a tragic accident.

Vivienne listened to Draven’s report, a cold glint in her eyes.

The less trace there was, the more suspicious it seemed.

“Keep digging. I want to know everything about everyone he could have possibly come into contact

with, from his ancestors to his descendants. Leave no stone unturned,” Vivienne commanded with an

icy tone.

“Yes,” Draven responded, with no further comment. He knew that this time, his boss was truly furious.

At the hospital, the entire Ellington family had gathered. Fiona was the last to arrive, her expression

nonchalant as if the person in the operating room had nothing to do with her.

Ryan, however, was a mess of tears, wailing as if Percival were his son.

“Why is life so hard on him? He’s already been through so much, and now, if he’s brain-injured, what

then? Dad, it looks like we’ll need Paul to step up for the family in the future.”

Ryan sat in the hallway, sobbing, but the actual tears shed were fewer than that from a yawn.

Previously, when Paul was arrested, he had a rough time under Vivienne’s orders, getting “invited for

coffee” punctually every day.

Unable to endure it, he begged to see Ryan and his wife, pleading for their help to get him out.

Ryan tried many ways but could not convince Richard to bail Paul out.

It was only when Ryan offered to renounce his son’s inheritance rights that Richard relented, asking

Vivienne for a favor, allowing Paul to be free.

But renouncing his claim was one thing; genuinely giving it up was another.

The heir to the Ellington family had to come from his branch.

Now, with Percival’s fate uncertain, opportunity knocked.

Everyone present was savvy enough to see through Ryan’s clumsy ploy, but they held their tongues

out of respect for Richard’s presence.

Enraged, Richard’s face turned a shade of steel blue. He grabbed his cane and swung it at Ryan. “You

disgrace, crying for what? My grandson isn’t dead yet! What nonsense are you spouting? I tell you,

even if something does happen to Percival, his wife will inherit the Ellington family, and it will have

nothing to do with you!”

After Richard said this, Ryan could no longer keep up the act and erupted. “Dad, Vivienne is an

outsider. How can you let her inherit the Ellington family? Have you lost your senses?”

“Me, lost my senses? I ought to beat some sense into you, you ungrateful child!”

Already irritated by Percival’s predicament, Richard could not contain his anger at Ryan’s scheming for

the family inheritance.

Raising his cane, he struck.

Seeing this, Fiona rushed to pull Richard away, “Grandpa, please, don’t be upset. Percival is still in

surgery. He’ll be alright.”

Richard calmed down a bit, sitting back down and looking at Vivienne. “My dear, did this scare you?”

Vivienne shook her head, “No.”

Scared?

Sure, her heart had skipped a beat when she heard about Percival’s accident. She feared losing him.

She did not know when she started feeling this way. Perhaps it had been a while.

She prided herself on her extraordinary medical skills, but when faced with life or death, she was

unsure she could outwit the Grim Reaper.

But what did it matter?

What Vivienne wanted, be it person or object, not even the Reaper could interfere.

So, scared?

Not a chance.

With her words, Vivienne slowly lifted her gaze to meet Fiona’s.

A flicker of surprise passed through Fiona’s eyes, but she did not look away.

Vivienne stared intensely at her.

In the entire Ellington family, the only one who would want Percival dead was her!

But Fiona simply curved her lips in a faint smile, her gaze steadfast, a mix of rightful expectation and

joy out of Percival’s misfortune.

It was the unmistakable look of someone reveling in an unexpected boon.

Vivienne narrowed her eyes.

Fiona and Percival were cousins only in name, and her delight was unsurprising with Percival’s fate

hanging in the balance.

However, if Fiona was the culprit, could she really remain so composed? Vivienne doubted it.

Just then, Kenneth rushed over. “How’s my brother?” He hastily asked with concern.

Kenneth’s eyes were red, his steps unsteady as he collapsed in front of Richard, “Grandpa, where’s my

brother?”

“He’s still in surgery. Stand up.” Richard understood that among those present, only Kenneth truly

cared about Percival.

Kenneth wiped his tears, his youthful emotions getting the best of him.

He looked up at Vivienne, and all his anger landed on her.

“It has to be your fault! If it weren’t for you, my brother wouldn’t have had that accident, you jinx!”

Vivienne’s gaze shifted from Fiona to Kenneth, her voice cold as she said, “Shut up.”

“You think I’ll shut up just because you say so? Vivienne, my brother’s accident is on you. Get out of

here now!”

Kenneth had always been salty about Vivienne dating Percival. Now convinced that Percival’s car

accident was because he was rushing to meet her, Ken’s disdain had solidified into a bitter

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A flicker of impatience crossed Vivienne’s face as she flicked her wrist.

Suddenly, Kenneth realized he had lost his voice.

Enraged, he lunged to oust Vivienne, but Richard hauled him back with a firm grip. “Sit down and shut

it. If I hear you disrespect your sister-in-law again, you’ll have me to answer to,” Richard roared.

Ken slumped back into his seat, seething silently, unable to speak or chase away Vivienne, forced to

wait in frustration.

Cecilia arrived with Isolde in tow, both flustered and the last to make it. They were supposed to be off

on an overseas tour to clear their minds but had rushed back upon hearing the news of Percival’s

hospitalization.

Isolde burst into tears at the sight of Vivienne and hurled herself into her arms. “Vivienne, I’m so

scared…”

The icy facade Vivienne usually wore softened, and she stroked Isolde’s back reassuringly. “Your

brother will be fine. Trust me.”

Assured by Vivienne’s renowned medical expertise, Isolde’s fears began to subside.

Cecilia’s eyes were swollen from crying, her voice lost to her sobs. Vivienne took Cecilia’s hand in a

silent show of support, squeezing it gently. Somehow, that small gesture fortified Cecilia’s spirit.

Finally, the operating room doors swung open, and Vivienne stepped forward first. She was confident in

her medical skills and the Life-saving pill she had administered to Percival, but worry clawed at her.

Each second that Percival remained unconscious was agony for her. She knew her intervention had

likely saved him, but the fear did not ebb until she could see him breathing, alive, and on the road to

recovery.