The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

Vivienne slammed the phone down with a chilling finality that seemed to echo the icy resolve in her

eyes.

Three minutes later, the realization hit both Vivienne and Percival simultaneously.

The bomb research facility was nestled right beneath Eastlake Bay Plaza, spreading its clandestine

roots beneath half the square.

The scene suggested a hasty escape; the fleeing suspects only had snatched the crucial documents.

The operatives from the Nine Mystics Society had already evacuated, and Leopold, leading the first

squad, had scoured the base thoroughly.

“Vivienne, Percival, check this out.” Leopold approached, cradling a box in his arms.

Percival flipped the box open to reveal a scale model of a state-of-the-art bomb—obviously left behind

in the chaos.

This only confirmed the suspicion that the perpetrators had received an urgent tip-off.

Otherwise, they never would have left something so vital behind.

Vivienne extracted the model, a one-to-one replica. While not as revealing as written documents, to the

trained eye, it could divulge the bomb’s design.

The bomb’s most unnerving feature was its ability to evade detection—compact, portable, and easy to

conceal.

Understanding how it slipped past sensors would be key to preemptive defense.

Vivienne tucked the model away. “I’m taking this.”

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Percival nodded. He had no intention of reporting a mere model to the higher-ups. He still had that

much leverage.

Instead, Percival simply called Thomas, instructing him to report the escapees’ flight, foregoing a return

to headquarters.

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On the way back, Leopold was fuming.

“Damn it, if we had set up a blockade sooner, I bet we could’ve stopped them. What are the higher-ups

thinking? If they’re worried about civilian safety, just make up an excuse to evacuate. A fire drill,

earthquake drill—anything would’ve worked. This is infuriating!”

Anna, unable to stomach his ranting any longer, snapped. “Husky, can you shut it?”

The frustration of a botched operation was bad enough without his incessant grumbling.

“I can’t shut it,” Leopold retorted. “How many times now? If nothing works, maybe we should just

surrender, throw in the towel.”

His outrage was not unwarranted—they could have at least set up a perimeter, avoiding the empty-

handed outcome.

“Percival, why don’t you climb the ranks already?” Leopold blurted out, his anger getting the better of

him, a clear sign of his exasperation.

Anna massaged her temples. Now, even divine intervention could not save him.

Percival, seated in the back, responded darkly, “Sure, any other commands?”

Breaking into a cold sweat, Leopold realized what he had just implied.

“Help me, Vivienne!” He yelled inwardly.

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And as if she had heard his desperate plea, Vivienne tugged at Percival’s arm, the other hand on the

bomb model, and said calmly, “Mr. Wolf, perhaps it’s time for you to climb higher.”

Unexpected complications within the Vanguard Agency had thwarted their recent operations.

The true cause of her mother’s death remained a mystery.

Who had called her mother, prompting her to choose suicide?

Vivienne had never considered the possibility of a mole within the Vanguard Agency, a team her mother

had trusted implicitly.

But now…

If she uncovered that a Vanguard Agency betrayal had led to her mother’s failed mission, she would

ensure the traitor learned that neither prison nor the grave would be their ultimate sanctuary.

Percival’s brows arched subtly, understanding her intent. “Yes, I agree. You’ve worked hard today,

Leopold.”

Leopold felt a chill. He turned, his face a portrait of dread. “I’m sorry, Percival!”

Vivienne toyed with the bomb model, a sly smile playing on her lips, while Percival’s normally stoic

eyes twinkled with amusement.

Leopold, witnessing their expressions, panicked.

He would rather be slapped by Vivienne or kicked by Percival than subjected to their chilling smiles.

It was as if the Grim Reaper was grinning at a doomed soul.

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Unable to bear it, Leopold clasped his hands, pleading with the pair, “I’m sorry, Vivienne, Percival. I’ll

do whatever you ask—climb mountains, swim oceans, even streak across Mount Everest!”

Percival’s fingertips tapped rhythmically on the leather seat. “There’s no need for such dramatics. Just

help me contact someone.”

Vivienne nodded, cradling the bomb model, her smile as bright as ever. “I wouldn’t dream of sending

him to such extremes.”

Leopold gulped, “You two aren’t thinking of her, are you?”

Only one person could deduce a bomb’s workings from a model, someone trustworthy and an expert in

weaponry.

Percival and Vivienne’s silence was an answer in itself, their smiles unnerving.

Leopold’s face went pale as he stammered, “No way, I can’t possibly call Griffin. It’s out of the

question!”

Griffin – the tenacious hound he had barely shaken off.

A nightmare.

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Percival’s “oh” was drawn out, a smirk forming as he glanced at Vivienne. “Vivienne, we might just have

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a coal miner’s job over in Fariana Isle.”

Vivienne wagged her finger. “Nope, Gary needs a gigolo at his place, and Leopold is perfect for the

job.”

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Leopold was petrified.

These two were absolutely nuts.

But what could he do?

Under the tyrannical influence of Percival and Vivienne, how could he not cave?

“I’ll call her!” Leopold, on the verge of tears, pulled out his phone right in front of Percival and Vivienne

and dialed his buddy, the big bad wolf.

The phone rang for almost thirty seconds before the voice at the other end lazily answered, “Who’s

this?”

Leopold paused, baffled. Griffin was someone who knew his number by heart; heck, he was her

emergency contact.

Even if she had not saved his number, she should not be asking, ‘Who’s this’!

“It’s Leopold, you’re Griffin, right?” Leopold asked, beginning to question his entire existence.

“Oh, what’s up?” Griffin’s tone was as indifferent as if she had just received a call from a delivery guy.

Leopold glanced at Vivienne and added, “Well, it’s Vivienne who needs you. Not sure if you’re free.”

Griffin paused, her voice lifting with intrigue. “You sure it’s Vivienne, not you?”

Leopold flushed with embarrassment, “Well, actually…”

Before he could finish, Griffin cut in, “I’m at the Runxing Community. Come find me.”

Then she hung up.

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