The Million-Dollar Heart Novel Episode
Chapter 653

Griffin fretted that Percival might actually break Leopold in two, so she quickly wheeled his chair away from the scene. Percival glanced in the direction the pair had escaped.

"Fine," he thought, "Someday I'll show 'em some old-school roughhousing!"

"Mr. Wolf, any luck running into Kenneth?" Vivienne strolled up and asked.

Suddenly inspired, she considered creating a new fragrance, a companion to the "Old Man" scent-calling it "Old Ruffian".

Percival nodded. "Yeah, he looked pretty down, not even watching where he was going."

"Ah, to be young again." Karen chuckled.

After a brief discussion outside the ward about Dracon and Gillian's situation, the group was about to head out for a meal when Karen's cell phone rang. It was Willa Perez.

Ever since Karen had returned to the Perez family, Willa had been conspicuously absent.

Karen had tried to reach out a few times, but Willa's obsession ran deep; she wanted to track down F-Poison before returning to the Perez family.

Karen respected that. Willa had her own path to follow.

The unexpected message from Willa now piqued Karen's curiosity.

The text contained a photo of a university gate abroad.

That very university was where Flynn had studied overseas-the same place F-Poison had once been.

Karen took a deep breath. "Willa's on to F-Poison's trail. Hopefully, she digs up some leads."

In Scepter Country, Willa stared at the university's gate and strode through with determination.

The campus was alive with the vigor of youth.

Every student, regardless of gender, wore bright smiles as if nourished by honey.

Willa, clad in a black leather jacket, walked across the field, her attire clashing with the sundresses and t-shirts around her.

Thankfully, the freedom of college fashion spared her any undue attention.

Only a few whistle-blowing guys, intrigued by Willa's cool demeanor, hesitated to approach.

She walked on, ignoring all the signals around her, and headed straight for a war memorial.

There, a monument stood in memory of a shooting that had occurred years before.

Engraved with names from around the world, the monument bore inscriptions in multiple languages, followed by the victims' names.

Even after all this time, fresh flowers still lay at the base, a silent tribute to the lost.

Willa scanned the names and found the one that was both familiar and foreign to her.

Elliot, also known as Five-Poisons.

Such a blatantly provocative nickname, yet it had lain hidden here for so long, commemorated and mourned.

Shameless!

Willa's gaze hardened as she studied the name, her eyes betraying scorn, anger, and a complex web of emotions.

She couldn't understand how someone so full of venom could be her progenitor.

Who was her mother?

What was the purpose behind her birth?

Could a remorseless, conscienceless monster truly love his wife and child?

Willa was baffled.

What was the point of her existence in this world?

Other children were legacies, treasures, and the continuation of their families.

And her?

She was darkness, sorrow, a living apology to the world-if there was anything she shared with other children, it was continuation.

Continuation of a creator's evil, shadowy legacy.

Willa's fists clenched as she stared at the name.

The sun warmed her jacket, but it couldn't match the heat in her gaze.

"Does this monument honor someone you knew?" A voice came from behind her.

Willa turned to see an older man dressed as a gardener, his hair silvered with age. "No, nobody," she replied.

"Well, that's fortunate. You looked so sad; I thought maybe you were missing a family member. It's best that you're not," the man said as he arranged the flowers neatly and wiped the dust from the monument. It was unclear if he was speaking to himself or Willa when he added, "I was here cleaning when the shooting happened, right in this spot. Scared the daylights out of me, peed my pants even. If it hadn't been for Elliot, my name would be on this stone too."

Willa was taken aback. Elliot?

She pointed to the name, "Him?"

The gardener looked up, smiled at Elliot's name, and said, "Yes, him. A very genteel man from Veridia, my hero."

Willa's brow furrowed. He saved people?

How is that possible?

"Excuse me, could you tell me more about what happened back then? I'm very curious."

The gardener stopped his cleaning, nodded, and said, "I'd be glad to."

In the cafeteria, Willa sat across from the gardener, listening to stories of F-Poison's time abroad.

"Elliot didn't like us calling him that. Preferred his nickname; said it was a challenge to himself. My janitor's quarters were near his dorm, and we got to know each other through small favors. When he stayed or as a faculty member, we grew even closer. Oh yes, he had a good friend, a handsome Veridian man who was obsessed with plants-quite the heartthrob at the school."

Willa knew he was talking about Flynn.

The old man continued, "They were inseparable, often drinking and chatting together, and sometimes they'd invite me. I didn't understand their technical jargon, so I just drank with them. Then came the shooting, so sudden and chaotic.

Many died that day, students and teachers. I was in the garden when the shooting started, knew it because a bullet whizzed past my leg. I was petrified, too scared to move, wet myself. If it hadn't been for Elliot..."

The old man with snow-white hair wiped a tear from his cheek as he recounted the harrowing tale. "But back then, I didn't know to run or even scream for help. I just knew I might be done for. Just when I thought I was about to meet my maker, Elliot showed up.

He grabbed my hand, and we bolted with that criminal hot on our heels. We were cornered, and that's when he stood in front of me like a human shield."

As the old man spoke, his voice trembled, and more tears spilled over. "Elliot's blood splattered all over me as he fell to the ground right before my eyes.

We were this close... the cops arrived moments later. If we had just held out a little longer, we would have been saved."

The old man was visibly shaken, clearly filled with regret over the events of that fateful day.

But Willa couldn't help but feel skeptical. The man the old-timer spoke of, he couldn't be F-Poison.

That guy wouldn't pick up a gun unless it was to use it, let alone save someone's life.

It sounded like a fairy tale, too good to be true.

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