The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

Vivienne let out a quiet yawn, feeling unusually sleepy tonight. Deciding it was best to rest up for whatever tomorrow might bring, she leaned her head against the passenger seat and closed her eyes, murmuring, "Mr. Wolf, wakeup when we get there, will you?" Percival drove the car out to the countryside, the peacefulness of Vivienne's sleeping face prompting him to carefully open the car door without making a sound. He gently lifted Vivienne from the passenger seat and, noticing the chill of the evening breeze, draped his jacket over her.

Carrying Vivienne in his arms, he walked up a gentle hill, his figure tall and striking against the night sky.

When Vivienne opened her eyes, she was still cradled in Percival's arms. She removed his jacket and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, nuzzling into his chest like a contented cat.

With a smile, Percival helped her to sit up on the hilltop, holding her close. "Awake now?" Vivienne snuggled closer, then turned to lean her back against him, her voice soft and inviting, "Why did we chere? Weren't we heading to your place?" His lips brushed her ear as he spoke teasingly, "I was worried you wouldn't make it back to the Linklater estate before dawn. It'd be hard to explain your absence." Vivienne chuckled, delighted by his playfulness, her mind flashing with images that made her lick her lips in anticipation.

Her hands deftly unbuckled his belt, slipping into his shirt to feel his muscular torso, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"Your muscles are so nice to touch," she whispered, a playful tone in her voice.

Percival blushed slightly but indulged Vivienne, letting her have her way while he silently endured the torment of desire. Vivienne, now sitting astride Percival, pulled him into a deep kiss, reluctant to break away.

They lay together on the grass, gazing at the stars twinkling like diamonds scattered across the vast night sky, forming a milky way.

Percival intertwined his fingers with hers, bringing them to his lips as he made a solemn promise, "Vivienne, I love you." Vivienne felt the warmth of his breath on her fingertips, as intimate as his lips on her heart.

"Vivienne, I want us to get married soon," he said earnestly, looking up at the starry sky.

Vivienne smiled softly, "We already did." Percival sighed, "But in the eyes of our elders, it's not enough!" They were traditionalists at heart. Even though they were legally married, without a ceremony, it felt incomplete to the older generation.

In the sky above, drones with purple trails drew a figure of a bride in a wedding gown, complete with a veil, against the backdrop of the night.

Vivienne rested in Percival's strong arms, drawing comfort from his presence.

As dawn approached, Percival carried Vivienne back to her room, scaling the wall with ease.

Inside, Vivienne caught hold of Percival's sleeve, "Stay with me, Mr. Wolf. Leave before dawn." Percival's gaze deepened as he closed the window and turned back to Vivienne.

Their kiss was fierce, breathless, as he untied the ribbon of her dress, revealing her delicate figure. They surrendered to their passion until the first light of dawn.

When Percival woke, it was the first the hadn't risen with his usual discipline. He kissed Vivienne's forehead gently as she slept on, then left quietly.

Vivienne, finding the room empty except for a note from Percival wishing her a good morning, smiled and drifted back to sleep.

The morning sun streamed through the windows as Arthur returned from his jog, wiping sweat from his forehead? He knocked on Vivienne's door, "Vivienne, Aunt Hailey, who's been abroad for years, is back Everyone's downstairs to welcher. Join us before you go back to sleep, okay?" Receiving no response and assuming Vivienne was overly tired, Arthur decided not to disturb her further.

The Linklater estate was bustling in anticipation of Aunt Hailey's return. The household staff stood in orderly rows, their expressions serious as they awaited the arrival of the woman who had sent shockwaves through the family with her sudden return.

Yorick, seated in the living room, was visibly tired, supported by Dracon. Despite their fatigue, they were curious about the aunt none had seen for years.

A servant rushed in to announce, "She's here, Ms. Linklater has arrived." Yorick nodded, and with Dracon's help, moved to greet her at the door. The entire Linklater family waited in anticipation.

Slowly, an elderly woman with her hair pulled back into a neat bun appeared. Her presence was commanding, her eyes sharp and alert beneath the wrinkles of age, a testament to her experiences and the respect she commanded.

ne "Hailey, how cyou didn't give us a heads-up before showing up? Only texting once you've landed-do you not see us as family anymore?" Yorick clutched his sister's hand, chiding her with words that were betted by the unmistakablegoy in his eyes at the sight of her return. Hailey Linklater appeared only a few years younger than Yorick, her presence vibrant and unaided by any walking stick. "Brother, it's been ages. I've missed you so much while I was abroad. At this point in my life, the longing for home, for all of you, overwhelmed me. On a whim, I grabbed a plane ticket and flew back to surprise you all." With that, she surveyed the Linklater family gathered around, nodding in satisfaction only when she was sure nearly everyone was there to welcher home.

The staff of the Linklater household remained silent.

Anyone who had spent a significant amount of twith the Linklaters knew that Hailey was not as amiable as she appeared. On the contrary, her temper was notoriously short, and it didn't take much to set her off into a tirade.

Yorick, having only this one sister, naturally doted on her. Despite her fiery temper, Hailey hadn't really crossed any lines. Yorick had always instructed the mansion's staff to be patient and avoid clashing with Hailey.

But when Hailey truly lost her temper, it only took a few sharp words from her to send someone packing. The staff were understandably apprehensive about her return, fearing the storms that might follow in her wake.