The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

Vivienne’s phone buzzed insistently, matching the urgency of Aaron’s voice on the other end.

“Vivienne, Elite University’s gone haywire. A bunch of thugs outta nowhere setting fires, wounding folks. It’s chaos!”

“Everyone, stay frosty,” Vivienne commanded, her voice steady as she addressed the trio on the line. “Keep an eye out if they’re androids. If you spot them, don’t hesitate to smash them to bits!”

“Understood!”

Unison agreement crackled through the phone, quickly followed by the sounds of a scuffle.

The situation was swiftly brought under control.

The media was ablaze, both TV and online, with reports of rampaging robots. The incident was huge, engulfing the city as nearly every one got dragged into the fray.

Even Percival’s and Vivienne’s attempts to scrub the feeds were futile.

The concept of androids, which many had relegated to the stuff of movies, now confronted them in reality. To the average Joe, a robot was nothing more than a novelty to chuckle at. But now, lifelike androids roamed the streets, mistaken for flesh and blood, until Vivienne peeled back their synthetic skin to reveal the mechanics beneath.

Panic seized the Brooks Group, the Churchill Group, and the Pendleton Group. Even their employees were clueless about how the robots broke loose. Androids required pre-programmed instructions to function, yet these were fresh from the warehouse, never programmed for chaos.

Vivienne’s exclusive chat group about bionics was in an uproar—Zachary Churchill: [Madam, what’s the play? Folks are freaking out, saying robots will rule the world soon and we’re headed for a machine age. We can’t contain the online wildfire!]

William Pendleton: [Yeah, and Vanguard Agency wants a sit-down tomorrow. This meltdown smells fishy like it was all premeditated.]

Ronald Brooks: [I’m with you, Vivienne. This stinks of a setup!]

Vivienne’s face was a mask of ice as she commanded, [I need you three here, now.]

wraps, even from Vanguard

it,

narrowed. [I’ve got someone else on Carl. You’re the head honcho of Brooks Group, Ronald. You’ve

Ronald: [Understood. Thanks.]

to head straight to the sanatorium in M State and bring Carl and Huxley back. He was the closest, the logical choice for a swift

William,

“we’ve traced the

they’re the first batch. Nothing on the

be a setup to expose the

head. “It’s

project her brainchild. With the crisis unfolding, the

this is too suspicious. Let us handle

can take the heat and disappear into some black site to clear

stick to the story—it’s got nothing to

They’re not idiots. Sure, we’re tight here in Rivenwood, but HQ will

if all four of us are in the hot

languidly on the chair’s edge. Her voice was lazy, her eyes shadowed, her

…

at Vanguard Agency, Vance was catching heat

shock waves beyond Rivenwood, stirring a

the web of complicity too vast. By the time they neutralized the rogue machines, the

and you botched it! Use

kind of firecrackers Vivienne and Percival are. Even if I wanted to get my hands on that patent, I’d need the magic touch—which I don’t have. Why not

reprimanded once. I’m warning you, if you don’t get

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