The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

Finnian’s face grew somber as he recounted the tale.

“But surprisingly, the family heads lost it. They accused my father of spouting madness and greed. A week later, our family suffered an unprecedented blow. That night, everyone disappeared without a trace.”

Finnian paused, the pain of the old wounds surfacing fleetingly across his features before vanishing just as quickly.

Perhaps time had dulled the sharp edges of his grief, but the sudden recollection still pierced him deeply.

After a minute, Finnian continued, “I wasn’t home that night. I was out with Jasper Perez—your granddad—knocking back a few beers. When I got back, the stench of blood was heavy, but there was no sign of their bodies, not even of my baby sister, who had just been born. I knew something was off, so I hid.

Sure enough, by the next day, all traces of the Sheldon family were wiped clean. No one but your granddad looked for me, and I couldn’t risk exposing myself or bringing trouble to him. Soon after, our family’s Mystic Vein was carved up by the same family heads who had sought my father’s fortune-telling. And just like that, no one mentioned the Sheldon family again.”

Having finished his story, Finnian drained the last of his carrot juice and handed the empty glass to Percival. “Hit me.”

Percival took the glass without a word, refilled it with carrot juice, and handed it back, then turned his attention back to grilling, serving up portions to Vivienne and Finnian.

“Kiddo, Vance descends from one of those families, an in-law from back in the day. You should know this. The Edwards family got rich off our Mystic Vein, beneficiaries of that old mess. Now they’re looking for me, probably with some ulterior motive. But don’t worry, they pose no threat to me. And Vance, he’s not one of the ones who hunted me. Rest easy on that.”

Vivienne relaxed a bit at Finnian’s words.

If Vance was not after Finnian, his reasons for seeking him out must be different.

“Finnian, are you going to meet him?” She asked.

Finnian waved the idea off. “I’ve still got a lot of things to figure out. I can’t meet him now. You go ahead with your business, and when it’s time, I’ll face him myself. Won’t stand in the way of your payday.”

Finnian’s face lightened as he tucked into the grilled meat.

He knew his protégé all too well.

A little money-grubber, that one.

the last piece of brisket. “Among the “a lot of things” you mentioned, is one of them that call Vance

for what felt like

already, and still you ask me. Where

find that

“Good evening, sir. Your table’s

stared in disbelief. “All this for

two who were with you earlier took a bottle of our finest

Damn it!

sworn in ages, cursed them in

not treat him to barbecue out of the goodness of

eight hundred

Hard-earned cash, gone!

leftovers, and handed them to Vesper,

pot of hotpot. “Enjoy your meal.

were cozied up in a hotpot joint, savoring

beats a hotpot,” Vivienne mumbled, contentedly biting into a

a smear of sauce from the corner of her mouth. “Vivienne, something about what Finnian said doesn’t sit right with

took a swig of cola.

an ancient warrior lineage sworn

Finnian only deepened the mystery. It could not just be about a

else at

the ancient warrior lineage

lamb into the simmering broth for

“Mr. Wolf, the angle Vance is playing—it’s all about the

the Martinez family, one of the ancient warrior lineages out there in public. His aim is

I’m

Percival said as he settled the tab. Hand in hand with Vivienne, they left the bustling diner, the aroma of sizzling steaks still clinging to their clothes. “He might be a loose