The Million-Dollar Heart

Chapter 923

Sasha leaned on her hand with a smirk, grasping a first aid kit in the other, diligently applying ointment to Vivienne's bruised cheek.

Vivienne's lips, a shade of crimson, curled slightly. "This jacket of mine is barely holding together, might as well let him throw in the towel."

Sasha's brows knitted slightly at the comment, pressing a bit harder with the ointment. Vivienne hissed, "Geez, tough love! Got a husband and forgot your daughter, huh?"

"Zip it, or my hand might 'accidentally' slip, making you yelp in pain," Sasha retorted, pinching Vivienne's chin.

The banter went back and forth between the mother and daughter, with Vivienne occasionally dropping hints about her latest findings.

"Just the other day, I mentioned that case where the woman's heart was harvested. It wasn't an isolated incident; there have been disappearances elsewhere too. Yesterday, Mr. Wolf and I tracked a lead to a small town, and if I'm not mistaken, that place is swarming with snipers."

"What's odd, though, is that when Mr. Wolf and I entered, nobody took a shot at us. Logically, they should've taken us out on sight."

Sasha furrowed her brows, her tone grave, "You and Percival might be carrying something they need."

Vivienne seemed to agree with that theory. But what could it be that they needed?

Shifting gears, Vivienne dipped her finger in a glass of water, sketching symbols she recalled seeing in the town on the dining table.

Each symbol appeared simple yet was difficult to replicate accurately. She managed to draw them roughly on the table.

to the town, I stumbled upon

shadow of recognition crossing her features. "I think I've seen these symbols in a

deep into it at the time. It might take a while to dig that

the bottom

Arthur chimed in, entering with

went silent, her gaze shifting to the trays in

of American toast topped with fried eggs and a generous squirt of ketchup, with Arthur drawing two big smiley faces on them to cheer

the toast's smiley faces, paused, then stoically took a bite. Truth be told, she wasn't

sign of

asked, "How's the taste, sweetheart? If it's

Vivienne for a serious

Vivienne admitted, "I'm not picky about food. It's alright, but I have a soft spot for traditional meals." Arthur's heart leapt at her response, blurting out,

his words, he remembered the chaos of his kitchen experiments, none of which turned out

saw finishing her toast and then starting on

a simplified version. Vivienne separated the strawberry design with her fork,

his attempt at

skeptically, poking at a charred mass with

muttering, "It was supposed to be

some tips from the chef. You'll get there!" As Sasha pushed a piece onto Vivienne's

been strained properly. And as for this 'great task', I think it's best left to Comrades Arthur

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