The Million-Dollar Heart (Percival and Vivienne)
Chapter 826

The man's face turned a bright shade of crimson as the slap landed, swelling almost immediately. He took a step back, too afraid to utter a word, though his mind raced with thoughts of protest. He'd roughed up Vivienne more than once recently, but wasn't that all at her command? Yet, he dared not voice this question.

The woman fixed her gaze on the wine glass in her hand, her voice raspy, "She's my trump card!"

He wanted to ask, but then the woman in red turned sharply, her voice cold, "Tell Samantha she has one more month. If she doesn't crack the secret to the elixir of life, she can consider herself dead!" The man was at a loss. He couldn't fathom why Abigail would invest so much in Samantha's research instead of simply taking what Vivienne already had. But he held his tongue and simply nodded before walking away. At the door, something struck him, and he turned back, "What about Harrison?"

"Don't worry about him. His schemes have already come to light. Vivienne is using him to force my hand."

With nothing more to say, the man left. After his departure, the woman moved to the window, her thoughts as distant as the horizon.

At Rivenwood, Asher's mansion, Asher sat in his study, a mix of calm and storm in his demeanor. Across from him, Gavin's normally composed face was etched with concern. The middle-aged man tapped the desk rhythmically, breaking the silence, "Gavin, if only you had foreseen this. Why did you insist on making life difficult for Kaitlyn and her crew?"

Gavin's brows furrowed, "Asher, you were the one who ordered us to ensure Kaitlyn and Vivienne suffered. And now you're washing your hands of it?"

Asher's face showed no guilt, only righteousness, "I wanted you to put pressure on Kaitlyn and Vivienne, not to bungle things up. Now, with Vivienne gaining the upper hand, you still pushed forward recklessly." "Idiots, all of you. Now, I have to clean up your mess."

A recent family crisis had nearly cost Asher his status, and though the immediate danger had passed, his frustration lingered. Noticing Gavin's discontent yet silent demeanor, Asher smirked, "As for Kipling, it's too late to help him."

"Gavin, do you think we can just let Kipling take the fall? He knows too much. If he ends up in prison, it could spell disaster for both of us."

Asher, unfazed, replied, "Gavin, have you forgotten that we thrive under the Grimshaw family's protection? Nothing silences a man more effectively than death."

Gavin was horrified, "You can't mean to kill Kipling! If that gets out, we're both finished!"

Asher remained cool as ever, "You're overthinking it. Your son-in-law's brother is a police chief, isn't he? Let him handle it. It's the perfect cover."

And about Harrison, "If he loses the lawsuit with Vivienne, we can frame him for Kipling's death. If he wins, it's the perfect chance to show Vivienne what we're capable of."

Gavin, though initially hesitant, couldn't help but be swayed by Asher's plan. "Alright, Asher. I'll make the call to Harrison. Let's set up a meeting."

Despite his outward compliance, Gavin was plotting, seeing an opportunity to outmaneuver Asher in their dangerous game. Gavin was pacing in his mind, mulling over a list of potential candidates for a rather dark task. He needed someone gone - Kipling, to be precise. And not just gone, but without a whisper of suspicion falling upon him.

Finding himself in the most secluded stairwell of his upscale townhouse, Gavin whipped out his phone and sent a discreet text to Harrison. The message was brief, its contents ominous. Without missing a beat he scrolled through his contacts, eventually dialing a number that he hoped would solve all his problems.

Unbeknownst to him, his own clock was ticking much faster than he anticipated.

Meanwhile, Harrison's phone buzzed while he and Victoria were seated in their SUV, en route back to the Abernathy estate. The atmosphere between them was icy, a far cry from the heated arguments that had filled the vehicle just hours before. Their silent feud was a one-sided affair, at least in the mind of a certain Mr. Schram.