The Million-Dollar Heart

Vivienne stared at Finnian. It would be a lie to say she did not resent him.

The death of Finnian had been a thorn in her side for years, a constant reminder of what she perceived as her medical incompetence. It gnawed at her, thinking that Finnian might still be walking the earth if her skills had been just a notch higher.

For a long while, self-doubt had engulfed her, and she had shouldered the blame for Finnian's demise.

After all, apart from Karen, Finnian was the most significant person in her life. His loss had delivered a crushing blow to her heart.

Finnian, sensing the weight of the moment, capitulated. "80 million is already a fortune. If it were 800 billion, it might just send me to an early grave!"

"Kid," Finnian began, with a weary shake of his head, "I was being hunted. I had no choice but to fake death to escape. I didn't want to drag you all into this mess. It was a last resort." As he spoke, he rolled up his sleeve to reveal a long, ugly scar on his right forearm.

The scar was surrounded by dark tissue and was as deep as half a coin. It bore the hallmark of a specialized weapon-one laced with deadly poison.

Vivienne's eyes flashed with concern as she gently took Finnian's hand, inspecting the scar. "You've been poisoned, and you never told me? Do you have someone who can cure this?"

After a closer examination, she could see that, although the scar looked fierce, it was healing, and the black hue was the residual poison that no longer posed a threat to his life.

Finnian withdrew his arm and nodded. "Yeah, a master healer, a friend of mine. I'll introduce you someday."

Vivienne furrowed her brow. She was a medical prodigy known as the Specter Healer. Yet, she knew in her heart that this poison was beyond her ability to cure. There was someone with medical skills that surpassed hers in Veridia?

She did not consider herself the best in the world, but it struck her as odd that she had never heard of such a proficient healer. And over the years, Finnian did not seem to have any friends.

The only person Finnian ever called a friend was her mother, and Vivienne had never met him even before her mother's passing. It was clear that even if Finnian had friends in the past, he no longer wished to associate with them.

Finnian, a man who would boast about a particularly intelligent parrot for weeks, would surely have mentioned such a formidable friend. Why the silence?

Caught by Vivienne's scrutinizing gaze, Finnian picked up his cup and took a sip to hide his discomfort. "Why are you looking at me like that, you rascal?"

who's the one hunting you that

always were impatient. Let me explain. You've probably heard of the ones after me-they're from the ancient warrior

Percival exchanged a startled glance. "The ancient

the ancient warrior lineage were the Martinez and the Perez families.

being hunted by the Martinez or

notion. "Neither. There are many in the ancient warrior lineage, and in modern times, only the Martinez and the Perez families are known. But my feud has nothing to do with them. Don't

good people. Don't resist getting to know

been

go blabbing about seeing me to anyone, okay? Even though the ones after me aren't from the Martinez or Perez family,

out, her mind swirling with

vanished overnight. Yet, the Perez and Martinez families did not seem the type to carry out such ruthless vendettas. Could there be factions

was

pressing to Vivienne was the identity of the mysterious healer

glanced at Vivienne and saw the curiosity burning in her eyes. He evaded her queries, fearing

quickly. She slapped an IOU on the table, her

things you're better off not knowing." Vivienne snatched the cup away from Finnian, denying him his sip. "Fine, don't

Finnian protested, waving his hands dismissively, "You're all grown up; a young lady shouldn't be shacking up with her old mentor.

healer

look after you. If your place is too small, I've got plenty of space. You could move in with me," Vivienne insisted, gripping Finnian's wrist tightly, her bright eyes

arm. "Go live with your

not an option. If you don't, Mr.

to Percival, who shrugged, saying, "In