The Million-Dollar Heart (Percival and Vivienne)
Chapter 534

Wendy's withered hand was trampled beneath the feet of her sons and daughters-in-law, kicked around as though it were a soccer ball. Wendy was yanked from her wheelchair to the floor by Nancy, like a dying, desiccated old dog, repeatedly jabbed by the pointed heel of Nancy's stiletto.

Vivienne said nothing.

Percival said nothing.

Such dutiful descendants Wendy had indeed!

"You useless old hag, I've tolerated you for far too long. Our side of the family has done the most; in the end, we're left with nothing. Your blatant favoritism for your daughter could make a saint rage, and now you still expect to charm us with a mere sliver of shares? Ptooey!"

Eliza was no better off. Teresa had always been the most envious of the Ashford family's assets, and now that they were all in Eliza's hands, her resentment was even more palpable.

Thinking of the energy and the sacrifices her son had made for such meager gains only stoked Teresa's fury, making her blows all the more vicious.

"You little vixen, I knew you were never as kindhearted as you pretended, flaunting your shares as bait. You really overestimate yourself. If you don't cough up the Ashford family's funds today, I'll beat you to a pulp!"

Once greed infects the human heart, it ceases to be human at all.

Vivienne had seen her fair share of families torn apart by petty squabbles over inheritance; the Brooks and the Ellingtons had succumbed to similar fates.

For the sake of money, they would abandon principles and kinship without a second thought.

The Boyds were no different, willing to tear each other apart over a fortune, treating their elderly mother's hand as if it were nothing more than trash to be kicked around.

Sharp stilettos and ring-adorned fists became weapons in the battle for wealth.

Even without this fortune, such a family was destined to become a casualty of greed before long.

Percival draped his coat over Vivienne's shoulders and embraced her, steering her away from the Boyd Mansion.

The Boyd family's reckoning was still to come.

After leaving the Boyd Mansion, Vivienne received a text from Matthew.

[Vivienne, Patrick's been bailed out.]

She pocketed her phone, "Wendy still has that kind of clout?"

Percival scoffed. "None of the Boyds do."

The Boyds were still reliant on the Ashfords to expand their business. With Patrick in such hot water, the Boyds would be lucky to save their own skins, let alone bail him out. What a joke.

Vivienne smiled subtly, her approval apparent. "The people my mother picked would always have some tricks up their sleeves."

At the Ashford Mansion, Patrick, freshly dressed and invigorated with some medicine, finally stepped through the front door.

Terrified, Gillian flung herself at her father. "Dad, you're finally back. I was so scared, I thought you'd never return."

Patrick ruffled his daughter's hair. "Didn't I tell you I'd be gone for a bit and back soon? With my girl here, how could I not come back?"

"Right, my dad's the best," Gillian said, leading him to the couch. "Dad, I did everything you told me to. But how did you know the Boyds would come to us for a deal?"

Though Gillian often played the airhead, yearning to be the darling of Sea City's elite bachelors, she was far from foolish. How else could she have wrapped so many around her finger?

The words Eliza had thrown at her were nothing but leftovers from Gillian's playbook.

It was clear to her that the contract was Eliza's attempt to monopolize the Ashford family's enterprises.

Wishing to capture the prey without hunting, how delusional.

But Patrick had made his instructions clear before the yacht gala: if the Ashfords were in trouble and the Boyds came sniffing around for an advantage, let them have it. Gillian was to simply play along and sign the deal.

So, when Eliza approached, Gillian feigned panic and, under Eliza's guidance, signed the contract.

Patrick chuckled. "Those greedy dogs in the Boyd family would not miss a chance to gnaw on a bone. But they should check if they've got the teeth for it. Gillian, once I swallow up the Boyd Group, we'll reach out to the Ellingtons, and you'll marry into their family, alright?"

Gillian snuggled against Patrick's shoulder. "I knew you'd always look out for me, Dad. I'll listen to you from now on and stop making foolish mistakes."

"I have only one daughter, and I won't let you suffer. But remember, never act on your own. Marrying Percival won't be easy; we must play our cards right."

Patrick's gaze grew more profound, his murky eyes harboring a strange light, betraying his deep thoughts.

Lost in her fantasies, Gillian missed her father's subtle shift.

Patrick's release made headlines, and he quickly called a press conference to clear the air.

"The authorities indeed approached me for a discussion, but not because the Ashford Group or I had crossed any legal lines. Instead, unscrupulous competitors tried to frame the Ashford Group and me in hopes of seizing our assets during the chaos. The nation has now vindicated me, lifting all restrictions, and I ask that all my well-wishers rest easy.

I, Patrick, swear again that neither I nor the Ashford Group will engage in any unlawful activities. We are committed to being law-abiding citizens. Thank you, everyone."

Patrick's impassioned speech quickly spread across the internet through live streams and media coverage, effectively severing his association with the three-ton Keco that had been looming over his head. After the press conference, Patrick stepped down from the stage and went to the lounge at the back.

No sooner had he closed the door than a woman dressed as a reporter entered, conspicuously without a camera or microphone.

Collapsing onto the couch, Patrick loosened his tie and did not seem surprised by the visitor.

"Well, that was quite the heart-stirring speech, Mr. Ashford," the 'reporter' said, perching opposite Patrick with a sly grin.

Patrick half-opened his eyes, giving the woman a sidelong glance before chuckling. "F-Poison sent you?"

"Yes." The woman narrowed her eyes and ripped off the press badge hanging around her neck, casually tossing it onto the table. "You can call me Quincy."

Patrick straightened up. "Weird name for a pretty girl. What's the word from F-Poison?"

"Boss wants you to take over the Boyd family's business network promptly, especially that contract. We need it to truly advance our bionic endeavors. And the Keco route is dead; replace a replacement fast. Another slip-up, and nobody's going to save your skin," Quincy said, her voice soft.

To any onlooker, she might have seemed amiable enough.

But to Patrick, her words were like an iceberg passing through, making him straighten up involuntarily.

Patrick cleared his throat. "Understood. I did not expect Percival to come at me directly this time. It won't happen again. But about that bomb on the ship-you should've given me a heads up. My daughter was on board, for heaven's sake. If something had happened..."

"Mr. Ashford, if your daughter had not meddled, Percival might already be dead," Quincy said, eyes narrowing as she gave Patrick a frosty look.