The Million-Dollar Heart (Percival and Vivienne)
Chapter 493

Crashing his phone to the ground, Flynn unleashed a fury of stomps upon the shattered device.

"I lost. Take me in." Flynn's voice dripped with laziness as he raised his hands in mock surrender, tilting his head to catch Percival's gaze.

But then, with a swift bite, he crushed the cyanide hidden in his molar.

He had always known this day would come.

Even in death, he would not be cuffed by the likes of Percival!

Blood spilled from his mouth as he knelt, the light fading behind his designer spectacles, "Percival, you'll never unearth the kingpin behind GTO."

His laughter echoed through the dark alley, a spectral sound that chilled to the bone.

Yet, the agony he anticipated never arrived.

F-Poison had given him this poison, and it was a lethal concoction, sure death on contact. How was he still alive?

Lifting his head, Flynn locked eyes with Vivienne, whose expression was akin to someone watching a fool. It all clicked.

She, the Specter Healer, was behind this.

Vivienne towered over him, her aura that of a queen, "Wish to die?"

Flynn glared back, bitter. "There's no grudge between us. My death serves you no ill!"

Her smile bloomed, radiant and short-lived, replaced by a chilling murderous intent. "Your death means nothing to me. But you dared cross Mr. Wolf. For that, I would have relished your end. However..." Her smile returned as she said, "Since you so desire death, I won't oblige you."

His eyes narrowed, venomous. "There are a thousand ways to die if I wish it."

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her piercing gaze lifted slightly, "The poison I bestowed upon you, I named it 'Mandragora.' It will hijack your nerves. Should suicidal thoughts arise, it will paralyze your body. Moreover..."

Pausing, she continued, "It will tear at you, two hours each day, gnawing at your insides while leaving no physical mark. Enjoy the rest of your days."

Flynn's pupils dilated.

Before, he would have scoffed at such claims, but knowing she was the Specter Healer, he believed. Vivienne had the means to craft such a torturous venom.

He could face death, but not the dread of daily torment with no escape.

Vivienne's satisfaction was evident as she crouched to meet his eyes, her voice a cold, clear chime. "Cross me, you die. Cross those I care for, and you'll beg for death. White Tiger, if fate grants a next time, strike me first you might replace a quicker end."

Her words, calm and steady, bathed in sunlight, highlighted her majestic beauty.

All present made a silent vow never to provoke those dear to Vivienne; a life of suffering with no escape was too grievous a fate.

Percival's heart raced at her words, overwhelmed by the depth of her love.

Vivienne had given her all to him; he resolved to be worthy of her for the remainder of his days.

Without another word to Flynn, Vivienne rose and walked over to Percival.

He took her hand, signaling the waiting Vanguard Agency operatives with his free hand. They stormed in, securing Flynn.

Richard watched, lips pressed tightly, one last attempt for understanding, "Flynn, why?"

Was being the Ellington heir so enticing?

His sons, one after another, vied for that position.

The Ellington family was the wealthiest in Rivenwood, sure, but not in Veridia.

The true powers were the ancient warrior lineages, hidden from the world.

The Ellington family had wealth but no political sway. Percival's integrity as the captain of the Vanguard Agency, now the Deputy Director, was its only political power.

Plus, Percival had never abused his power for his own benefit. Basically, the Ellington family had zero influence in the government.

He could not fathom why his sons fought so bitterly.

Handcuffed, Flynn glanced at his father. "You needn't know."

And with that, he was escorted away.

Richard sighed, resigned. Old age was upon him.

Percival holstered his weapon, his expression unreadable. Until today, he had refused to believe Flynn was White Tiger.

His faith in his own judgment wavered.

Flynn was not a stranger; he was his uncle, the man he trusted more than anyone else in the family.

He had suspected Ryan but never Flynn.

If not for Flynn's recent slip-ups, he would never have suspected him.

The idea that the person who cherished him most sought his life was unfathomable.

Then, from the holding vehicle, Flynn's voice cut through. "Percival, you think I've only got hostages up my sleeve? Listen closely. The countdown begins."

The door slammed shut, sealing his haunting laughter inside.

Vivienne and Percival's eyes met, a silent understanding between them.

The next moment, Vivienne's voice pierced the tense air like a siren's call, "Kenneth, get Grandpa out of here. There's a bomb!"

Kenneth's heart skipped a beat, and before he could even process the warning, Imogen was tugging him away, shouting over her shoulder at Nathan. "Nathan, move it! Get the old man to safety!" Snapping to action, Nathan whisked Richard away to a safe distance.

After the family had evacuated, Vivienne and Percival, accompanied by a few special squad members, began a frantic search through the Ellington family's historic mansion. Bombs were discovered in the most unsuspecting of places: tucked in a corner of the living room, nestled beneath the sofa, hidden among the spirits in the liquor cabinet.

But there was no telling how many bombs Flynn had planted within the walls of the ancestral home. The detectors were useless, leaving them to search blindly.

Suddenly, Imogen burst in, calling out to Vivienne, "Vivienne, I know where the bombs are hidden; he planted them with me."

All eyes turned to Imogen as she opened a secret compartment under the staircase and pulled out a box, explaining, "We had a tradition of surprising each other. Just yesterday, he suggested we play a game of hide-and-seek with gifts to cheer me up. I hid these boxes all around the house."

With Imogen's guidance, they managed to locate each and every bomb. But time was running out-when the last one was found, the countdown had already reached the final ten seconds.

"There are thirty in total. He intended to level everything within miles." Matthew wiped the sweat from his brow, realizing the magnitude of their narrowly avoided catastrophe. They would not have stood a chance if Flynn had not spilled the beans."