The Million-Dollar Heart

"Country bumpkin?"

Vivienne arched an eyebrow, an expression that hadn't crossed her face in quite some time.

She surveyed Ramona with a critical eye, noting the girl couldn't be more than twenty. With her doll-like features, it was no wonder she had become an overnight sensation.

It wasn't just the push from her handlers behind the scenes; that pretty face was surely a factor.

Withdrawing her gaze, Vivienne's clear eyes shifted to Dorian. "Dorian, what's going on? Didn't we agree that Kala was to be the face of the new perfume line?"

She paused, noting Dorian's evasive look.

She asked, "You're in trouble, why didn't you talk to me?"

"I will explain everything later, Vivienne," Dorian replied, his face showing distress. "Ms. Grimshaw, this is my daughter. Please be respectful."

After he spoke, he turned to face Ramona with a stern expression.

Something was off.

Vivienne tugged at Percival's sleeve, and without a word, he understood. He gestured to Thomas, indicating he should lean in closer.

Ramona, meanwhile, was visibly irked by Percival's blatant disregard for her, his attention solely on Vivienne.

Her voice dripped with jealousy, "Percival, darling, look at them! I wouldn't have taken this ad gig if it wasn't for your sake. Now, they're all ganging up on me."

Her whiny voice grated on Vivienne's nerves.

"Ms. Grimshaw, are you supposed to be some kind of mother hen? Clucking away like

at Vivienne. "You, you country bumpkin! What right do

of the entire banquet hall to the

guests murmured among themselves,

here? Who's calling Ms. Hawthorn a country

is known as the perfume maestro Q, not

Ms. Hawthorn is being called a country bumpkin,

talk of country bumpkins. One would think Ms. Grimshaw was some

restrictions of the setting, Ramona would have slapped Vivienne then and there. Her face flushed with a mix of

would have thought that this woman, once so easily bullied in Havenwood,

clenched her teeth in frustration as she said, "You just wait! I won't let you get away

dimly lit hospital room, Willa had just finished bathing Karen and was carrying the basin to

slice it,

the lights in the bathroom flickered

find nothing but darkness. Without hesitation, she followed the rope that someone had used to climb in

a sliver of light. A man cautiously stepped in, making sure

before the needle could make contact, the room flooded with light, and Willa, with lightning-fast reflexes, threw a dagger

the minor disturbance did little to

glances around the room. "Strange, where did Ramona

with a light-hearted tone, "Why? Were you

her demeanor

hurriedly explained, "No, no. I wish she'd leave faster. But you don't understand, Vivienne. Ramona is not as