Skip to content
Chapter_1
The evening air was still warm, the sun barely dipping below the horizon, casting a soft glow over Emerald Mountain. Vivienne stood in front of a nameless grave, her black casual attire blending with the surroundings, her expression icy as she addressed the tombstone.
“Mother, tomorrow marks the end of our ten-year pact. You told me to temper my edge, and I have. Tomorrow, I return to the Hawthorn family.”
The wind whispered softly, but the peace was shattered by a loud “bang” from a nearby black car. The car was skewed to the side, the tire blown, and a man stumbled out, clearly injured, his steps uneven. Behind him, a dozen others emerged, all dressed in black.
Percival glanced back, his face pale, one hand clutching his abdomen. The pain in his stomach was intense, but he refused to show weakness.
“Give it up. We’ve paid a high price, but you can’t escape,” one of the men in black taunted, stepping forward.
The leader of the group, his face devoid of emotion, moved closer. “You think you can outrun us?” he growled. Percival’s eyes narrowed as the pain in his abdomen intensified, a sharp reminder that time was running out.
Before the leader could respond, a stone whizzed through the air and struck him, sending him crumbling to the ground.
“Who’s there?” he barked, his voice full of rage.
Vivienne, standing with her arms crossed, responded coolly, “You’re disturbing my mother’s rest. Can you take your fight elsewhere?”
All eyes turned to her, including Percival’s, who couldn’t hide his surprise. The group of international assassins, notorious for their skills, had been taken down by a single stone thrown by a young girl.
“I hope you’ll remember to mind your own business in your next life.” The leader sneered before ordering his men to eliminate Vivienne.
The assassins lunged forward, but Percival, still in pain, yelled out, “Watch out!”
To his amazement, the dozen or so men never had a chance to lay a finger on Vivienne. They fell one by one, collapsing to the ground before they could even touch her. Vivienne remained unmoved, her hand still extended slightly, and her expression unchanged.
“Get lost,” she said coldly, her voice as sharp as ice.
The men in black, now sprawled on the ground, looked up at her in confusion and fear. “Who are you? What did you do to us?” they demanded, unable to comprehend how they had been incapacitated. They had seen her raise her hand, scatter something in the air, and then felt their strength vanish.
Vivienne didn’t bother to explain, her gaze flicking toward Percival. His heartbeat quickened as their eyes met, the moonlight reflecting in her clear, calm eyes.
“Thank you,” Percival said softly, his voice gentle despite his pain.
Vivienne’s response was indifferent. “I didn’t do it to save you. I just didn’t want my conversation interrupted.”
She turned away, walking to the tombstone. “Mom, I’m leaving. Take care.” With a small wave, she began to move on.
But Percival collapsed to the ground before he could say another word.
Vivienne paused, looking at the tombstone once more. “You want me to save him?” she asked, her tone uncertain. There was no answer, and after a moment’s hesitation, she sighed. “Alright, I’ll save him.”
She knelt beside him, opening his shirt to reveal the serious wound on his stomach. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it needed attention. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a small porcelain bottle and sprinkled some powder on the wound. She followed this by administering a mysterious pill from another bottle.
If Percival were conscious, he would have recognized the pill—a rare and valuable healing medicine that was in high demand on the black market. Each pill cost fifty dollars and was hard to come by.
After ensuring he would be alright, Vivienne stood up and walked away, her mission complete.
At the Hawthorn Mansion in Havenwood, the atmosphere was tense. Beatrice’s voice echoed throughout the mansion, her fury unmistakable.
“As long as I’m alive, Vivienne will never be part of this family!”
Vivienne, standing before her, lifted her eyes slightly, her expression emotionless but her gaze sharp. Behind her, Dorian, her father, had brought her back, eager to finally have his daughter home. But before Vivienne could settle in, Beatrice had already made her disapproval known.
Dorian clenched his fists, his teeth grinding in frustration. After ten long years, he had finally found Vivienne, only to face opposition from his own mother. And yet, Beatrice didn’t just object—she openly disrespected Vivienne in front of everyone.
“She’s not worthy,” Beatrice sneered, her voice cutting through the air. “I will never acknowledge her as my granddaughter. My only granddaughter is Arabella.”
Her cold eyes fixed on Vivienne, who met her gaze without flinching. There was no sign of fear, only a faint hint of mockery that Beatrice couldn’t see.
Dorian, his patience wearing thin, finally spoke up. “Now that I’ve found Vivienne, I’m not letting her go. Mind your own business, Mom.”
“You dare!” Beatrice shrieked, standing abruptly. “If you bring her back, I’ll strip you of your position and revoke your shares.”
Dorian let out a bitter laugh. “Position? Shares? Mom, I’m just a small fry in the company. I make a measly 4 grand a month. It’s you who’s clinging to me, not wanting me to leave. And as for my shares, haven’t you already taken them all back?”
Beatrice’s eyes blazed with fury, her voice trembling with anger. “Are you deliberately picking a fight with me?”
Just as Dorian opened his mouth to respond, Arabella, who had been silently observing, spoke up.
“Granny, please let Vivienne come back.”
Beatrice shot Arabella a frosty look, but her tone softened just a little. “Let Vivienne come back? Dream on.”
Arabella, her eyes bright and innocent, smiled. “But she’s Mr. Ellington’s fiancée.”
