The Double ( or More ?) Life of The Fake Heiress

Using a C–grade recipe for a brewing potion was enough to take your breath away.

Dane picked up the porcelain bottle beside him, filled it with the pills, and then looked up at his brother. “What were you about to say?” Asher shook his head. “Nothing much, Dane. That concoction you whipped up from the girl’s recipe, does it have a quality grade?” He stretched out his hand, aiming to snatch the bottle from Dane’s grip, but came up short. NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

“No grade,” Dane said flatly, then turned and headed out the door with the bottle in hand.

Asher sheepishly withdrew his hand, watching Dane’s retreating figure before muttering, “If it’s got no grade, why won’t you let me have a look?”

Shaking his head, Asher turned his attention back to the workbench, tidying up the medical tools one by one. After putting everything in order, something suddenly clicked in his mind. He had completely forgotten about the matter of the girl concocting twenty pills earlier due to the interruption. Well, it wasn’t anything to fuss over anyway.

After leaving the Reeves family, Mirabella didn’t head back to school but hailed a cab straight home.

Stepping out of the cab, she stood before the gates of her villa, about to punch in the security code, when she noticed a tall figure in the garden. He was looking up, seemingly inspecting something. The distinguishing long scar running from the back of his head to his ear was unmistakable.

Mirabella’s fingers paused on the keypad, and her eyebrows arched slightly. What was this man doing at her home?

Sensing her gaze, Curtis, who had been standing with his back turned, faced around. The usual sternness on his face was sharpened, but upon catching sight of Mirabella, it softened into surprise. He

hadn’t expected to bump into Mirabella at this time.

With a calm demeanor, Mirabella punched in the code, and the gate swung open. She walked through.

“Ms. Mirabella,” Curtis greeted her with a polite nod as she approached.

Mirabella stopped before him. “What brings you to my place?”

“Just keeping Mr. Donald company,” Curtis replied succinctly.

Mirabella heared the name Donald, and her eyes briefly darted toward the entrance of the villa, then back to Curtis. Her voice was indifferent, “How long has Donald been here?”

The casual way Mirabella addressed Donald caused a twitch in Curtis‘ temple. She was probably the first to be so brazen.

“Just arrived a short while ago,” he replied.

Mirabella hummed in response, then turned to leave.

Curtis was puzzled. “Ms. Mirabella, you’ve just arrived and you’re leaving again?”

Mirabella paused her stride. “Yeah.” After a moment’s thought, she turned back to ask, “Is James around?”

Used to Mirabella’s direct way of addressing James, Curtis shook his head. “No, he’s not.” That was precisely why Donald had come

over.

Upon hearing this, Mirabella turned back around, waved her hand in the air, and called out as her voice trailed off, “Then pretend I was

never here.”

A bewildered Curtis stood there. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Mirabella had left in such a hurry because she knew Donald was at the Davis family house.

What on earth had Donald done to make Mirabella avoid him like the plague?