The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

Ramona paced her room, agitated, "I don't care. You have to fix this. Otherwise, I'm spilling everything to the family!"

She breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

The curtains in her room were all drawn shut.

Since the night before, the building opposite was swarming with cameras, hordes of people desperate for a scoop on her.

Ramona had no idea how much longer she could endure this nightmare!

If not for Vivienne whisking her away from her apartment yesterday, she wouldn't have even made it to the gala at Capital Edge

Estates!

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She was a respected lady of the Grimshaw family, after all.

Yet, a single mission had plummeted her reputation, leaving her feeling less worthy than the stray dogs in the streets!

On the other end of the phone, the person seemed indifferent to her rage, their voice calm and detached, "You created this mess;

you clean it up. Ramona, no matter how many tasks you've taken on, you have only one mission here. Win over Percival, and right

now, you're on the verge of failing!"

"What do you mean by that?" Ramona retorted with a start, "So you hireand don't trust me? Fine, I'm done! Don't think you're

the only ones who know the art of meridians reversal. Our main family has its experts, too. I'm going to them tonight, and we'll see

how you continue your plans when the Grimshaw family learns you've stolen their techniques."

She should have never agreed to work with these people!

If not for the poison they injected into her, she would never have agreed to this mission!

"Hold your horses," the voice on the other end said, gender indiscernible, "Maybe this isn't such a bad thing after all."

Ramona was almost amused by her own fury, "Well, you just wait and see. I'll sabotage your plans even if it's the last thing | do!"

The person in the shadows apparently found the noise too much and held the phone away until Ramona finished her rant. Then,

with a mocking curve of the lips, they brought the phone back to their ear and said patiently, "This isn't just about you being

caught in a storm. Those seen with you are also in hot water. There's a saying, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Why not

seek their help? You might achieve sunexpected results."

Elsewhere, in the suburbs, amidst lush greenery, a castle-like villa stood secluded.

Vivienne and Draven stood outside, gazing at the ivy-covered walls, their expressions pensive, "Who knew Rivenwood suburb hid

such a gem."

Draven frowned, "Should we really go in, young master?"

If that person was such a big shot, there could be an ambush waiting.

Vivienne signaled her team to step aside and, to Draven's surprise, approached the grand doors of the castle. It seemed well-kept,

showing no signs of neglect, with even the brass knocker shining brightly.

With gloved hands, Vivienne grasped the knocker and gave it a firm rap.

"Young master!"

"Vivienne!"

Draven and the swiftly arriving Matthew's eyes widened in shock as they dashed forward.

But Vivienne simply looked back, her expression inscrutable, "False alarm."

With that, she even kicked the now-open castle doors.

Draven and Matthew were taken aback. Why wasn't anything following the expected script?

It seemed the woman was only intent on teaching Vivienne a lesson.

The path was clear as they crossed the vast courtyard and entered the villa's grand hall. The entire castle was devoid of anyone

but them!

Even in the living room where Donald was bound, not a soul stood guard.

From alertness to numbness, Draven and Matthew kicked aside the obstructive sofa and headed toward Donald.

"Ugh!"

Donald was tied tightly to the largest pillar in the room with hemp rope, his mouth sealed with black tape.

A black-cased vial hung at his waist, the green liquid inside sloshing back and forth with his movements.

He shook his head frantically, warning them not to ccloser.

But no one heeded his warning.

Draven and Matthew strode over, and as expected, nothing happened. Swallowing their pride at being underestimated, they

peeled the tape from Donald's mouth.

"Donald, what happened? You were just supposed to tail someone. How did you end up tied up here?"

Matthew teased as he made room for Vivienne.

Donald had no tfor banter, "Vivienne! Get out of here! This isn't just a bomb; it's a biological weapon! If it goes off, we're all

dead. Get out now!"

"Shut up," Vivienne snapped, her ears ringing from his shouting, "Matthew, tape his mouth again. He's givinga headache."

Matthew chuckled gleefully, "Right away. Don't blme, Donald. | have to obey Vivienne!"

"Ugh..." Donald's eyes bulged in disbelief.

Internally cursing, he vowed to get back at Matthew once he was safe.

Matthew pretended not to understand, taking his struggle as gratitude, "No need to thank me; we're disciples of the smaster,

after all. Don't be too moved; just treatto a feast later, that's all."

Donald: Who's thanking you?

As the two exchanged banter, Vivienne had already expertly defused the bomb.

She gestured for a team member standing by to approach, carefully placing the biological weapon into a black case that had been

prepared in advance.

"Save the chit-chat for later," she said, dusting off her hands.

Her indifferent gaze swept past Matthew.

She shelved her tally of debts for the moment and turned to leave.

"Hold it right there!"

Suddenly, a stern shout echoed, and a group of figures clad in black tactical gear burst in. Armed with rifles and combat knives,

they encircled the team.

Vivienne and the members of the Nine Mystics Society huddled together, with Matthew supporting Donald in the back. He cursed

loudly, "I knew it! That broad wasn't just playing nice. She's been lying in wait for us!"

As he spoke, another wave of footsteps sounded from outside the door.

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