The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

Tears streamed down the woman's face, heavy and relentless.

Gavin felt a sharp pang in his chest. Just as he was about to offer comfort, the words that followed from Madeline's lips darkened

his expression. "Madeline, are you blaming me?"

Only then did Madeline realize she had misspoken. "No, how could | blyou? | know you did what you thought was best for the

Abernathy family. It's just... my heart aches for Sophie. Despite being your daughter, she endures whispers and pointed fingers

behind her back. You wouldn't believe what the society girls say about her at the galas."

Arter all, she was the woman he had cherished for so many years. Gavin watched her tears intensify and sighed. "All right. | know

you and your daughter have had a tough time. But forget about the Grimshaws. I've found a match for Sophie with Leopold

Sterling, the heir to the Rivenwood estate. A fine gentleman, competent and well-regarded. Soon, I'll arrange for Sophie to meet

him."

"Leopold Sterling?"

Madeline was familiar with the name.

The Sterlings, one of Rivenwood's ten distinguished families, may not rival the Ellingtons or the now-diminished Brooks family, but

they were still an aspirational Plus, their heir was known for his close ties with Percival.

But what good were those ties?

Leopold, the Sterling heir, couldn't hold a candle to even Percival, let alone stand on equal footing with a Grimshaw heir!

Emotions swirled within Madeline, but she masked them with a look of surprise. "Why the Sterlings? Even if not the Grimshaws,

there are other eligible families. If not them, there's always the Ellingtons..."

Gavin pulled her close, his patience wearing thin as he explained, "Forget about the ancient warrior lineages. Percival is already

married. Leopold is the most promising of Rivenwood's young men. That's settled, then. Let Sophie know so she's prepared."

His tone was final, leaving no room for debate.

If he could, he would have preferred Sophie to marry into the Grimshaws. But the harsh truths Victoria spoke, although unpleasant,

weren't without merit.

A bastard girl, even as a mistress, would be seen as an insult by the haughty Grimshaws!

The courtyard buzzed with servants bustling to and fro.

Seated on a bench, Madeline's grip on her fan tightened.

The nerve of that man!

His words were noble, yet his thoughts mirrored the disdain of others for her and her daughter's lineage!

Even that harlot Victoria managed to marry into the Schram family!

How was her daughter any less than that vixen's child? Why couldn't she be with a Grimshaw heir?

Ultimately, it was because Isabelle was a bastard daughter.

He feared offending those ancient warrior lineages!

What were the Sterlings compared to them? How dare they think to marry her daughter?

"Gavin, do you really think I'm still that naive girl who'll agree to whatever you say? Just wait until my daughter marries into the

Grimshaws. Whether it's Victoria or her mother, I'll make sure none escape!" Madeline cursed inwardly.

(The context here is that Gavin and Madeline have a love relationship, using his real name, while his relationship with Holly

Ellington is one of convenience, using the pseudonym Preston. After Holly was ousted from the Abernathy family, Gavin reverted to

his real name.)

At the Linklater estate, a breeze stirred the curtains, but it couldn't ease Arthur's restlessness.

It had been weeks since his return, and his men had turned the Brooks estate inside out with no trace of Winnie. Could a living,

breathing person just vanish into thin air?

"Arthur."

Dracon entered the room, oblivious to the brooding air around Arthur. He knocked lightly, capturing Arthur's attention.

Arthur turned, irritation flashing in his eyes. "What is it?"

Dracon flinched at his brother's impatience, the deep-seated fear of Arthur urging him to flee the room. But recalling the task at

hand, he braced himself. "I still want to talk about Percival. Father's health is worsening."

Arthur's brow furrowed, his gaze icy. "I've already spoken about Percival. Since father and Hector believe his innocence, there's no

room for doubt. I'll find the real culprit; you needn't worry."

Dracon's gaze flickered, forcing himself to meet Arthur's stare. "Father and our brother are blind to Percival's true colors! What

more is there to investigate? The poison cwith Percival's gifts. If not him, then who? Surely you don't suspect a traitor in our

midst?"

He even pointed to himself, "Or do you doubt me?"

Arthur felt a pulsing headache as he approached Dracon, taking a few deliberate steps closer. "Look, no one's accusing you. But

I'm not naive enough to think that a family heir would be dumb enough to poison someone under his own name. Dracon, if you're

really that bored, go find a job or something. Don't embarrass yourself here."

The icy resolve in the man's gaze sent a shiver down Dracon's spine.

Without even turning, he could feel his shirt sticking to his back, damp with cold sweat.

It had always been this way! Arthur had never taken him seriously, not once!

Emotions churned in Dracon's chest, fear urging him to flee while resentment and bitterness rooted his feet stubbornly in place,

refusing to admit defeat.

Their locked gazes created a tension so thick that the passing butler and the housemaid didn't dare to breathe too loudly.

They skirted around the standoff, no one daring to intervene.

Dracon's resolve was faltering, his legs trembling involuntarily under Arthur's formidable presence—a presence honed on the

battlefield, steeped in the harsh reality of life and death.

Compared to Dracon, who had always lived in the lap of luxury beside their father, it was like comparing heaven and earth!

Arthur remained silent.

Just watching him, Dracon felt like prey under the gaze of a predator, his body instinctively wanting to bolt, though his feet refused

to comply.

"Arthur, Dracon? What's going on here?" Hector's voice cut through the tension as he returned from a business trip. Noticing the

uneasy household staff and Cassie, he sensed something was off.

He ascended the staircase and rounded the corner only to find the two men at an impasse by the door.

Dracon looked like he was about to collapse.

Hector's indifferent eyes flicked over Dracon's shaking legs. "Arthur, Dad was looking for you a moment ago. Said he needed to

discuss something important with you."

Arthur nodded slightly, breaking his gaze. "Alright."

His leather shoes clacked against the wooden floor as he walked away.

Hector glanced in the direction Arthur had departed, then back at Dracon, who still hadn't moved. A shadow of intrigue crossed his

eyes, but he said nothing, nor did he inquire about the cause of the dispute.

He turned and followed Arthur's path. Only when the sound of their footsteps had faded did Dracon slump against the door frame,

collapsing to the ground.

It was like a drowning man finally reaching air, his hands clutched at his chest, cold sweat streaming down his forehead.

Terrifying!

Arthur had beceven more formidable than before!

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

mmMwWLHIOfiflO&1

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

mmMyWL11I01F1081

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

mmMwWLHIOfiflO&1

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

mmMyWL11I01F1081

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

mmMwWLHIOfiflO&1

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

mmMyWL11I01F1081

mMMwWLIIOfiflO&1