Chapter 11: Vixen

Words : 1999 Updated : Nov 27th, 2025

"Miller, what nonsense are you spouting? How could Principal Sowden have taken your ring?" Megan Scurr stared at Miller Cutmore, irritated. The guy hadn't even had a drop to drink, but he was already talking rubbish. Blake Cutmore leaned in and whispered, "Miller, stop fooling around. Principal Sowden has been teaching for over twenty years. Her ethics are spotless-she works herself to the bone. There's no way she'd take someone else's things." Brittany Lyson flushed with anger and snapped at Miller, "You owe my mom an apology." To her, Miller was slinging mud at her mom and dragging her name through the mud. Miller ignored the scolding. He looked at Mackenzie Sowden, his expression calm, and said, "Nice bit of misdirection-blink and you'd miss it. Your sleight of hand is near perfect. I'd guess you're a disciple of the Thief Sect." "Daoism?" Blake blinked at him. Miller shook his head. "No-she's with the Thief Sect. 'Thief' as in stealing." "Are you out of your mind?" Even the usually gentle Brittany flared up. She stood, pointed at him, and shouted, "Cut the crap! I only said a few words earlier. Does that give you the right to smear my mom?" Megan Scurr frowned at him. "Are you sick in the head? Principal Sowden is the teacher I respect most. She's a high school principal-a respected educator. Calling her a thief is the biggest insult to her character." Miller didn't argue. He let them rail at him, watching Mackenzie with a cool gaze, making no move to apologize. "Mom, ignore him. Let's go." Brittany hooked her arm through Mackenzie's, glared at Miller, and said, "If he tries anything, I'm calling the police." But Mackenzie, who'd kept quiet, sat back down instead. She turned her wrist and, somehow, a purple thumb ring appeared in her palm-the very one Miller had been wearing earlier. The three women froze. So Miller hadn't wronged her. Principal Sowden really had taken the ring. But how had she managed it with everyone watching? More than that, the reveal was hard to accept. The poised, beautiful, admired teacher and principal was, in truth, a thief. The contrast was jarring. Mackenzie didn't bother with their reactions. She stroked the ring gently, her face full of longing and reluctance. Then she set the purple thumb ring on the edge of the table in front of Miller and asked softly, "Where is he?" Her words would have baffled anyone, but Miller understood. He picked up the purple thumb ring, slipped it into his pocket, and said quietly, "Since the ring's with me, you can probably figure out what's going on with him." Mackenzie's expression was a jumble of anger, reluctance, relief, and grief. Miller had never seen so many emotions crowd one face. He didn't speak. He poured a cup of tea and nudged it gently toward her. "Thank you," she murmured. She lifted the cup with both hands, but her fingers trembled so much she could barely hold it. Miller stood, ready to say something, when Mackenzie set the cup down, stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around him. She buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking in quick, shallow bursts. Miller froze, and the three women stared so wide-eyed they looked ready to pop. Miller spread his arms, not sure whether to hug back or stand still, and just stood there awkwardly, not sure whether to hug back. "Mom, what's wrong?" Brittany hurried over, steadying Mackenzie's shoulders, and shot Miller an apologetic smile. Up close, the soft‑spoken, long‑haired woman was striking. He caught a faint, intoxicating scent-maybe her shampoo, maybe just her. Maybe she realized how close she was. Brittany's cheeks went pink, and she took a small step back. Mackenzie raised her head and let go of Miller. She didn't wipe her tears. She stared at his chest and whispered, "This shirt used to be his. I can smell him on it. Who are you to him?" Miller glanced down at the damp patch on his chest, helpless. "I'm his last disciple." Relief softened Mackenzie's features, then a crease of worry formed. "So he stayed in prison all these years? That makes sense. Where could be quieter than that? He was hiding not just from me, but from other women he'd tangled with. I should've guessed." Brittany looked lost. She clutched Mackenzie's arm and asked, "Mom, what are you talking about?" Blake and Megan exchanged looks. The way those two spoke felt like a riddle only they understood. Mackenzie sighed. "Brittany, go ask the waiter to bring the food. Let's eat." "Okay." Brittany obeyed and stepped out. Miller watched her go, then lowered his voice to Mackenzie. "Principal Sowden, about Brittany…" Mackenzie flushed and shook her head. "She's not. I have an older son, Alec Lyson, a soldier. He's the one…" Miller nodded. He looked like he wanted to ask more, but thought better of it and kept quiet. Mackenzie read him easily and said without fuss, "Brittany's father knows. I don't hide it. Only Brittany doesn't know, and he probably doesn't either. A man like him wouldn't care about things like that." Miller scratched his head and coughed, at a loss for words. When his master had passed him the art, the old blind man had made it clear he'd lived through all this himself. Don't be fooled by the shabby beard and his blindness in Belton Prison-he looked like a worn‑out old coot, but… On the eve of his ascension, Miller had shaved and trimmed him, and seen his true face: strong, straight brows and bright eyes; he looked barely in his thirties-a total heartthrob. No wonder he was a legend on the outside-charming and a shameless flirt-and he'd even said he came to Belton Prison to escape all those entanglements. Mackenzie was clearly one of the women he cared about, and decades later she still held on to him in her heart. Miller also understood why she'd taken the purple thumb ring. She hadn't wanted to keep it; she'd wanted to test his skill and deduce his connection to the old blind man. Mackenzie pulled a tissue and pressed it to her eyes. "If you were his son, I'd have destroyed that ring instead of returning it. He was always the same-falling hard for everyone-yet never believing any woman should bear his children or be his lifelong partner." Miller wanted to tell her it wasn't about refusal-that his master's cultivation method wasn't suited to women, so no woman could ever truly become his cultivation partner or walk to the end with him. He knew no one would believe it, so he kept his mouth shut. The food arrived. They sat and shared the meal, chatting as if nothing had happened. Midway through, Mackenzie turned to Miller and asked, "Miller, so you don't have a girlfriend? That works out. Brittany just graduated from teachers' college and has never dated. You two should go out."

Chapter 11: Vixen

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