The Million-Dollar Heart (Percival and Vivienne) novel Chapter 462

Outside the hospital room, Heloise pressed her ear against the door, straining to catch snippets of conversation from within, but the soundproofing was too effective; not a whisper escaped.

Unaware of her eavesdropping, Richard swung the door open, sending Heloise tumbling forward. Much to her chagrin, she landed with a graceless thud on the tiled floor.

"What on earth are you doing? Have you no decorum? Making a spectacle of yourself!" Richard scolded, thumping his cane on the ground before striding away in disgust.

He had not gotten far when Percival and Vivienne approached, arm in arm.

"Grandpa," they greeted Richard.

His mood visibly lifted at the sight of them. "What brings you two here? Fiona's resting now; let's head back."

No sooner had he spoken than Heloise charged forward, her face contorted in rage.

"Vivienne, you wretched girl, you have the nerve to show up here after what you've done to my daughter."

In a fit of fury, Heloise snatched up a trash can from the corridor and hurled it at Vivienne.

Vivienne did not flinch, too bored to even bat an eyelash.

With a swift kick, Percival sent the trash can flying back to its sender, zeroing in on Heloise's unsuspecting head.

Caught off guard, Heloise stood frozen as the can collided with her skull, spilling its contents over her. Part-eaten fast food, disgusting fluids, and a medley of sticky, used tissues tumbled down, a revolting mess enveloping her.

Remarkably, Heloise's slender frame had managed to lift the bin in the first place.

A nurse passing by hesitated, recognizing Heloise as the lady of the Ellington family's second branch. But Richard's furious shout echoed down the hallway, "Let her be! She can pick herself up when she comes to!"

With that, Vivienne and Percival escorted Richard away, leaving Heloise sprawled amid the trash, her limited-edition velvet dress marinating in filth.

A woman with long hair watched the scene from the shadows. Only after Vivienne and Percival departed did she don a mask and slip into Fiona's room.

Fiona, previously feigning sleep, opened her eyes with more strength than she had shown during her earlier conversation with Richard.

"Mr. B, in such a hurry?" She teased with a smile.

The woman stood beside Fiona's bed and injected something into her IV bag. "I thought your first words to me would be of gratitude for rescuing you."

Fiona watched the liquid drip slowly into her line, her expression darkening.

"You're just following orders. What do I have to thank you for?" Fiona sat up, gasping for breath.

The medication was the very cause of her heart condition.

Mr. B flicked her hair back and pocketed the empty syringe. "You were foolish to fall for such an obvious trap. I can't fathom what the boss sees in you."

"Mind your own business," retorted Fiona, clutching her chest. After a few moments, her breathing steadied.

Mr. B watched coldly until Fiona's color returned. She then produced a box of pills from her pocket. "Take one each night for the first week, then one a week after that. Any more, and you might actually die. Good luck."

With that, Mr. B left the room.

Fiona secured the pills and called after Mr. B's retreating figure, "Killing Percival with Boar Poison won't be easy. Vivienne knows how to cure the Boar Poison."

"Thanks for the advice. Get well soon," Mr. B replied without turning, a smirk playing on her lips.

Fiona lay back down, staring at the sterile ceiling, trapped in a web of others' designs.

...

Elsewhere, in Percival's car, Vivienne sat in the passenger seat while Percival and Richard occupied the back.

"Vivienne, is there really no hope for Fiona?" Richard queried.

Vivienne nodded. "I've seen her medical records. There's a chance for recovery, Grandpa, but she might not want it."

Richard understood her implication. A healed Fiona would likely return to jail, while her current state afforded her a semblance of freedom. Plus, the second branch of the family might not trust Vivienne's intervention.

He had asked merely to gauge whether Fiona's condition was fatal. The prospect of burying a younger family member was not an experience he wished to endure.

As long as Vivienne believed Fiona would be alright with proper care, that was enough for him.

"That's good to hear," Richard said, looking at Vivienne. "I'm sorry you've been put through this."