The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

At the TIC Research Institute, Calista strode in with the confidence of someone who owned the place. She slipped into her pristine lab coat, snapped on a pair of gloves, and began to prepare her array of scientific instruments meticulously.

As her colleagues filtered into work, they could not help but cast puzzled glances her way. Unfazed by their stares, Calista selected a few essential tools and turned to the bewildered researchers. “Unless there’s a pink slip with my name on it that I’ve yet to receive, my presence here should come as no surprise,” she quipped with an authority that commanded the room.

The researchers collected themselves. “No, of course not, Dr. Blake.”

“Good, then let’s get to work,” Calista said, her eyes flickering with impatience. “Have these items delivered to my office later. I don’t want to be disturbed while conducting my research.”

She handed a list to her assistant, Holden, whose eyes widened in confusion upon reading it. These items had nothing to do with their current projects.

“Problem?” Calista arched an eyebrow.

Quick to recover, Holden shook his head. “No. It’s just that we’ve never used some of these before, and they could be dangerous if mishandled.”

A scoff escaped Calista. “Playing it safe hasn’t exactly helped us meet Mr. Percy’s expectations, has it? If we don’t innovate, what use will we be to him, or do you fancy yourself a better scientist than I?”

Holden clamped his mouth shut and hurried off to gather the requested items.

Calista retreated to her private lab, a space she had earned as the institute’s director. Here, under the radar of her subordinates, she could delve into the confidential task assigned by the enigmatic Scott. As soon as the door clicked shut, beads of cold sweat dotted her forehead. The pressure of developing a virus under the watchful eyes of so many was immense. Still, she had always maintained an air of untouchable authority, which now served her well in keeping prying eyes at bay.

Pouring over the documents Scott had entrusted her with, Calista’s gaze hardened. The document was highly confidential, and the task was extremely risky. She was playing a dangerous game, but it was the only way to regain her freedom from Scott’s manipulations and regain the attention of the elusive Percival.

With determination and resolve in her eyes, Calista yelled inwardly, “Vivienne, the day this virus sees the light of day is the day of your death!”

Scott removed his headphones with a satisfied smile. He had been keeping a close watch on Calista, confident in her ambition and desperation to prove her worth. He did not fear her betrayal in the slightest; she was already an outcast, and Percival did not even care if she could enter the lab. Plus, Calista was extremely arrogant about her medical skills. Only the legendary Specter Healer or someone like Brody, who once saved her life, could

a covert meeting with a contact

respectfully, anticipated an encounter with the mysterious Mr.

first time she met Mr. B, although she had no idea if

mask, his eyes were

understood that Mr. B was waiting for

said, “Mr. B, sorry. They managed to save Dorian and Cordelia, but there was nothing I

one hand and continued to stare

too quickly, and I had no choice but to

time. With surprise, he

the potion to Scott, saying, “I got this from searching Cordelia’s body. She had modified it and hid it in her bracelet. I don’t know if this is

hastily grabbed the potion and walked to the lab

testing it, he confirmed it was the real potion! With

for now, and take your time to recover from your injuries. If anything comes up,

determine if she betrayed the organization as Rowan

slit her throat on the spot if something

Quincy was a

brother, Caspian, about what had happened. This news very soon reached

indeed Scott. After that day, he instructed Barnaby to find a way to get close to Mr. B, and he never contacted her again. However, given how cautious he was, Mr. B would never so casually appear. Thus, Percival knew this was not the time

Mr. B. He would let Barnaby obtain insider information about the GTO and draw out

strike. They needed to wait for Barnaby’s

and on the brink of death—a dilapidated building that even the homeless would shun. It was a stark reminder of their cruel and merciless world, a place where life hung

kicking aside the pebbles and debris that littered