The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

In the midst of chaos, out of nowhere, a figure lunged towards the center of themotion, a blood-dripping knife in hand, aiming straight for Vivienne and Percival. "Vivienne, Percival, this is the end for you!" She remembered vividly, it was Percival's henchmen who had forcefully taken her aboard that dreadful ship where they broke her limbs without mercy.

And later, topel her into submission, they severed the tendons in her limbs.

Ever since, she harbored a deep-seated desire to exact her revenge on the pair.

Upon hearing themotion, Vivienne merely lifted her gaze and, with a swift motion, sent the attacker flying five meters away with a powerful kick before the blade could even graze her.

The assailant hit the ground, coughing up blood, yet refused to relinquish the opportunity to end the lives of her targets.

As Vivienne approached, the assailant, with a determined grasp on the knife and a last-ditch effort, lunged at Vivienne, desperation fueling her attack.

But Vivienne caught her hand effortlessly, the blood from the knife dripping onto her clothes.

A malevolent glint flashed in the eyes of the fallen woman.

Charlotte, who was nearby, noticed the tell-tale red spots on the attacker's arm and went pale with fear. "Vivienne, get away from her, she's got an infectious disease!" Hearing the words "infectious disease," Percival's face turned ashen. He quickly pulled Vivienne to safety and, using his powers, flung the attacker away.

"Vivienne, we need to get you out of those clothes now!" The disheveled woman struggled to her feet, spitting blood continuously.

However, upon seeing Percival's protective stance over Vivienne, she let out a raspy laugh filled with vindication.

"Heaven has eyes!" "Indeed, heaven does watch over us!" "Vivienne, always so aloof, let's see how you fare in your next life after enduring the svile afflictions that have plagued me." Members of the Nine Mystics Society quickly restrained the woman, intending to hand her over to their young master for judgment. Upon seeing the woman's face, marked by a distinct scar, even Charlotte was taken aback. "My God, are you... Arabella Hawthorn?" The name, long unspoken, triggered a profound reaction in Arabella, who glared at Charlotte with the ferocity of a cornered beast. "Don't you dare callthat name. I am not Arabella!" Years of forced encounters, abortions, and confinement in a damp, cramped room had taken their toll on her, both physically and mentally.

It was another woman who had given her a glimmer of hope, advising her to assthe identity of Paula Brooks and seek refuge with the Miller family in Rivenwood.

Sadly, that woman didn't survive a month, succumbing to the brutal whims of a particularly violent client.

But before her death, she had revealed a secret about Arabella's true heritage.

Meanwhile, Vivienne watched as Mr. Wolf, also known as Percival, hastily removed her contaminated clothes and draped his jacket over her, his expression grave.

Hesitantly, she addressed him, "Mr. Wolf, I..." "Percival, don't speak. Thomas is fetching the first aid kit from the car." Vivienne, "..." It seemed Mr. Wolf had overlooked a crucial detail.

Years of dealing with poisons had rendered her immune to most toxins. Furthermore, as a Specter Healer, she could easily diagnose Arabella's condition without close examination.

How could she not recognize it? "Vivienne, we're heading to the hospital now!" Watching Percival meticulously clean every drop of blood from her skin with alcohol swabs, Vivienne grasped his hand.

She feared if she didn't speak up, Mr. Wolf might succumb to undue panic.

"Mr. Wolf, my years of research into poisons have madeimmune to such things.' Percival paused, his actions ceasing momentarily, "No, we can't take any chances. I won't be at ease until we're at the hospital!" Vivienne sighed, "Mr. Wolf, believe me, diseases carried in the blood pose no threat to skin without cuts or open wounds." She showed him her unblemished arms and legs, "See, not a scratch on me." Percival finally relaxed, looking up at her, "Really?" Vivienne, a bit exasperated, "Mr. Wolf, you've otten. Our training and abilities have altered our bodies. External threats can't harm us unless they enter our system." Hearing this, Percival's worries subsided.

He knew Vivienne wouldn't knowingly put herself in danger, but the initial shock had left him momentarily paralyzed with fear.

All he wanted was for his Vivienne to be safe, even against the slightest odds.

After calming Percival down, Vivienne approached Arabella.

Since someone had taken the trouble to seek death, she saw no reason not to oblige.

Arabella, now restrained by the car, watched as Vivienne approached, the Nine Mystics Society members bowing respectfully, "Young Master." Vivienne signaled for them to leave; she intended to deal with Arabella personally.

"Vivienne, in three months, you'll be in agony... Ah!" Before Arabella could finish, Vivienne's foot connected with her chest in a ruthless kick.

"Was it Abigail who rescued you?" Arabella, pale and drenched in sweat from pain, couldn't muster a response, barely able to open her mouth without emitting a sound.

Vivienne's gaze was icy as she contemplated her next move. "Arabella, or should I say... Katara Miller?" At the mention of that name, Arabella's eyes widened with hatred, staring back at Vivienne, "How did you know?" Vivienne let out a mocking laugh, her voice light and airy, "Oh, darling, hate to break it to you, but Paula? She isn't your real mother. Not by a long shot. You two don't share a single drop of blood!" Arabella's eyes turned bloodshot, her whole body trembling with rage as she struggled against the ropes that bound her. She wanted nothing more than to tear Vivienne's lying mouth apart. What nonsense was she spewing now? "That's impossible!" "I'm not Arabella; I am Katara, the sole heiress of the Miller family!" "Katara, you say? As if!" Vivienne narrowed her eyes, her gaze sharp as a knife, "The real Miss Miller of the Miller family met a tragic fate years ago. Kidnapped and left for dead without her kidneys, imagine that. And here you are, thinking youe from snoble lineage. Your real parents? Your mother was a trafficker, and your father, apulsive gambler." "I don't believe you!" Arabella's sanity seemed to slip further away a manic idea taking hold. She suddenly stared at Vivienne and burst into laughter, "You must be seething with jealousy because I am the true heiress of the Miller family. Oh, Vivienne, your envy is showing!" Vivienne gave her a glance, the picture of calm as she flicked through her phone to pull up a document.

It was a paternity test, with Paula and Arabella's names on it.

The result was a resounding zero.

Arabella collapsed to the ground, utterly defeated. How could this be? That woman, on her deathbed, had clutched at her hand, calling out, "Katara, Katara..." She was Katara, the rightful heiress to the Miller fortune.

She had never doubted it, not for a second.

This return was supposed to be her chance to reclaim the Miller family nand everything that belonged to her.