If Vivienne's memory served her right, it had been ten days since she started her regimen of remedies—a milestone that should have marked the end of her treatment. Yet, here she was, still sipping on what seemed like an endless supply of bitter concoctions.
Percival handed her a glass of water with an unnervingly calm demeanor, his voice soft and comforting, "Vivienne, you forgot about the day we went to Grandpa Jack's. You missed a dose then. We're just making up for it."
Vivienne could only respond with a sigh.
In exasperation, she asked, "Mr. Wolf, how much longer with this 'medicine'?"
Understanding her plight, Percival offered a reassuring smile, "Tomorrow is the last day. After that, we'll head to the hospital for a check-up to ensure everything's cleared up. We might as well see how our little peanut is developing."
Vivienne's lips twitched in amusement, "Our 'peanut' is barely two months along, probably not even the size of your pinky yet."
Percival's lips curled into a smile, his eyes gleaming, "At two months, we should be able to hear the heartbeat. Don't you want to hear our baby's heartbeat?"
That certainly caught Vivienne's attention.
Half an hour later, on their way to the Watson estate, Vivienne browsed through the information Draven had sent over about the Watsons.
Nolan Watson, the current head of the Watson family, was renowned for his expertise in both landscape architecture and as a chief engineer, particularly skilled in designing Western-style gardens. The family, once royal architects, had seen their fortunes wane over time. Now, they were recognized not for their historical significance but for their professional merits, attracting the attention of many affluent families. Interestingly, the Linklater family's estate was one of Nolan's masterpieces.
This explained why Grandpa Jack had sent her with a letter to Nolan Watson.
Upon arrival, Thomas, their driver, couldn't believe his eyes—the estate's classical red gates and the surrounding wilderness seemed to transport them back in time.
Thomas had thought the Linklater estate was traditional enough, but the Watson residence, seamlessly blending into the nearby terrain, appeared utterly timeless. As beautiful as it was, it also exuded an intimidating aura.
Shaking off the feeling, Thomas informed Percival and Vivienne, "We've arrived."
After identifying themselves and presenting Yorick Linklater's handwritten letter, the butler invited them in, leaving Thomas to wait outside.
Entering the main hall, they were greeted by an elderly man dressed in a dark Western suit, emanating a sense of wisdom and longevity. Percival and Vivienne introduced themselves and quickly got to the point.
"We've come to inquire about something, Mr. Watson," Percival began.
Nolan, foregoing any pretense of formality, nodded for them to proceed. Vivienne wasted no time, "Mr. Watson, Grandpa Jack mentioned that the Wright estate was designed by you. We're wondering if you still have the original blueprints. We need to verify a few things."
"The Wright estate?" Nolan seemed momentarily puzzled before Percival jogged his memory. Nolan then clarified, "Ah, yes. The Wright estate was indeed a Watson project, but it wasn't mine. It was my brother, Derek Watson, who designed it. He preferred the European architectural styles, diverging from my own affinity for traditional designs."
Vivienne and Percival exchanged a glance before asking about Derek's whereabouts.
Nolan's expression turned somber, "He passed away many years ago. However, if it's the blueprints you're after, I'll have someone search his study. If we find them, I'll ensure they're sent to you."
Realizing there was little hope for finding the blueprints, Vivienne and Percival prepared to leave but not before Vivienne inquired about Derek's cause of death.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: The Million-Dollar Heart