The Million-Dollar Heart (Percival and Vivienne) novel Chapter 695

Percival stroked her hair with an indulgent smile, his voice a gentle murmur, "I'll take you to the hospital first. Got some errands to run, and then you're coming to stay at my place tonight."

His "place" was his sprawling private estate.

Vivienne blinked, teasingly suggesting, "Should I clean up and wait for your royal favor?"

She was already daydreaming about her Mr. Wolf seducing her in nothing but his birthday suit.

So tempting!

Percival was momentarily speechless. Since when had his Vivienne become so... frisky? And what was that at the corner of her mouth?

Drool?

What thoughts were swirling in that little head of hers?

"Ahem!" Percival snapped back to reality, his tone a mixture of amusement and resignation. "Aren't you supposed to be holding a memorial service?"

Vivienne paused, then said, "Oh, right!"

She had planned a service to send Francis off.

To the animal realm, so to speak.

She initially wanted to hold it at Emerald Mountain, but it was too far, and with her mother still unconscious, she couldn't leave. So, she asked Mr. Wolf to find a place for her ceremony to bid Francis farewell.

She hadn't expected Mr. Wolf to pick his villa. She had thought... well, that Mr. Wolf had other intentions.

How embarrassing!

Percival, with a blend of exasperation and affection, assured her, "Once I'm done, I'll pick up what you need. It'll probably take all day, so I'll have Thomas pick you up!"

Vivienne had no words.

Seeing her like this, Percival couldn't help but chuckle. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "Don't worry, Vivienne, that day will come eventually."

Vivienne was left speechless—his words making her seem all too eager.

...

At the Linklater Mansion.

The entire Linklater family sat together in the living room. Yorick had only recently regained consciousness and was still weak, but his eyes shone with excitement. The night had fallen, yet no one suggested going to bed.

Suddenly, the sound of car horns echoed from outside, and Yorick, agitated, stood up, asking, "Is he back? Has he returned?"

Dracon quickly steadied his father, peering out the window with a gloomy look. "Yes, my big brother is back."

Why did he have to come back?

His big brother was now a veritable legend in Veridia, while he was the mocked and scorned black sheep of the Linklater family. Just as he was trying to shed that label, his illustrious brother had to return.

With his brother back, would he ever escape the ridicule?

It was bad enough when Hector returned—although his achievements didn't quite measure up to their eldest brother's. But now, with both the renowned brothers home, what place did he, the so-called failure, have in the Linklater family?

The thought was suffocating!

Outside, a line of sleek black cars pulled up in the driveway, their headlights piercing the dark, a display of sheer authority.

Dracon, meanwhile, sneered inwardly. See the difference?

Arthur returns after ages and only cares to ask Hector about his life, not even glancing at Dracon's way. He had shouldered the family burdens in their absence, standing by his father. Yet, the moment they returned, they acted as if it were their due.

Arthur was the same as ever—arrogant and dismissive.

Dracon vowed that they would all soon see that he was no failure.

That night, the Linklater Mansion was ablaze with light.

Yorick inquired about many things, mostly curious about how Arthur had fared over the years.

Arthur shared stories selectively, both to spare his father from worry and because many details were bound by military secrecy.

Even though he knew his father would never spill the beans, there was something about being a soldier that was etched into one's very marrow. Certain things, especially those concerning the military, were off-limits, even in the presence of his nearest and dearest. It was an unwritten rule, a part of the code he lived by.

In a way, it was also a means of protecting them. As a man who faced the dangers of the battlefield, he understood all too well that the less they knew, the better off they would be.

Yorick understood this without needing to be told, and so he didn't press any further.

Hector, sitting nearby, would occasionally chip in with a tale or two from his own years of experience, and the three of them enjoyed a warm camaraderie, none seeming in any hurry to turn in for the night.

Dracon sat a little apart from the group, watching the trio chat away merrily. He seemed to be on the outside looking in, not really knowing how to join the conversation, lost in his own thoughts. It wasn't until Arthur called out to him a couple of times that he snapped back to reality.

"Dracon, Arthur's been calling you. What's got you so spaced out?" Yorick, who had always been tough on this particular son, couldn't help but scold him.

"Oh, uh, sorry...what were you saying, Arthur?" Dracon rolled his eyes inwardly, thinking, "When you guys are having such a blast, it's kinda hard to get a word in edgewise. I can't help but let my mind wander.'