The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

Vivienne paid little attention to the idle chatter as she completed a series of checks on Karen before they entered the operating room together.

Inside the pristine OR, Karen was hooked up to a plethora of monitors, all vital signs stable and within normal range.

Lying on the operating table, Karen looked up at her daughter and whispered, “Frost, I’m counting on you.”

For Vivienne, there was no turning back now. All hesitation and concern had evaporated the moment they prepped for surgery. All that remained was her unwavering resolve to see her mother healed.

She hugged her mother gently, whispering into her ear, much like Karen had done to soothe her to sleep when she was little.

“Mom, just take a nice long nap, and when you wake up, we’ll go out for some hearty beef stew.”

As the operating lights brightened, Brody stood outside, monitoring Karen’s condition in real time with precision.

Percival sat rigidly outside, his expression betraying nothing of the turmoil within. Only he knew the depths of his unease—not just for his mentor’s condition but for the weight on Vivienne’s shoulders.

Outside YQ Research Center, Willa kept vigil by the door, perched on her motorcycle, clutching the ingredients for Karen’s favorite beef stew.

A gentle breeze toyed with her long hair, veiling half her face—a portrait of stoic concern.

Back at the Perez Mansion, Maddox was in the yard, building and toppling towers of blocks with Natalia and Yasmine, locked in a cycle of creation and collapse.

In the study, Jasper poured over an album filled with photos of Karen up to the age of ten. It was a thick tome, about eight inches deep, with many gaps representing the thirty-plus years Karen had been away from the Perez family, only to be filled with abundant life snapshots upon her return.

As he flipped through the pages, Jasper’s silent prayers weaved through the air.

A day and night passed. Percival’s back was soaked with sweat, dried, and then soaked again. The stew ingredients in Willa’s grasp had lost their appeal, the blocks gleamed from Maddox’s handling, and Jasper, unable to sleep, remained with the album clutched to his chest.

Vivienne stitched the last suture, wiping a bead of blood from Karen’s face. She pressed the button

no rejection when the ST-1 was administered. Was it

answer but simply

doors opened, Percival hurried forward, his gaze searching Vivienne’s face for

Karen to

surgery had gone well, with no complication

Karen was settled in the ICU, Vivienne finally removed her mask

mom wakes

well. Karen’s brain had been skillfully repaired, and her

severe reaction between Karen’s nervous system and the ST-1, plunging her mother into a deep

awaken soon, it would

drip. “Get someone from the hospital over here. The lab’s too far from the city; I can’t always be

ruffling her hair

ICU, with members of the Nine Mystics Society taking turns to

herself, and that’s when she and Vivienne officially

as cool and laconic as Vivienne had imagined. “Hey,

being born in front of her eyes—just a pat on the head, a reserved greeting, as if afraid to harm something

as cautious,

feeling her body stiffen before slowly relaxing

just like Sasha,” Willa said, and they shared a smile that spoke of a deep,

them space. In moments like these, he thought, whether Vivienne or Karen or Willa,

out of the room, Percival’s phone rang—it was Thomas on

the move as we speak, and the agency only just