The Double or more Life of the Fake Heiress (Mirabella)

Mirabella casually reached over and snagged the car keys from Grady's hand. "I'll drive your car back, so you won't have to worry about any safety issues."

Grady's car was a fortress on wheels, decked out with top-notch bulletproof glass and the best safety features you could ask for. Even if it got sideswiped, the damage would be nothing more than a light scratch.

Grady gave Mirabella a knowing look, picking up on her unspoken message. After a brief pause, he said, "Alright then, if you run into any trouble, just give your uncle a call."

Mirabella nodded in agreement.

Grady made a quick call, and within moments, one of his men-who had been tailing them for protection-pulled up in another car.

"Alright, I'm heading out," Grady said, nodding to Mirabella as he got into the vehicle.

Mirabella twirled the car keys in her hand and hopped into the driver's seat, but she didn't head straight back to the Davis estate. Instead, she cruised around the city until she found an old market where she could pick up a clay pot for brewing herbal remedies.

Chester's health had taken a nosedive, so strong medications were out of the question. A gentle, herbal brew simmered in a traditional clay pot was just what the doctor ordered for his recovery.

After paying for the pot, she headed out, noting the market's narrow lanes that left no room for cars. She'd parked just outside on the street.

As she was about to leave, cutting through a narrow alley, Mirabella abruptly stopped in her tracks.

"Come on out," she said, standing firm with her eyes locked straight ahead, her voice steady and composed.

No sooner had the words left her mouth than six burly guys stepped out, surrounding her.

The few passersby who witnessed

the scene quickly scurried away, not daring to get involved. Mirabella

sized up t

the men with an unruffled

expression and switched to fluentnoveldrama

French, "You've been tailing me all this time. What do you want?"

The men looked taken aback, clearly not expecting her to have clocked them so easily.

But what could an unarmed woman

do against six men? "You're coming with us? Someone's eager to meet you,"

u," said the leader, casually twirling a military knife, its blade

glinting ominously.

"No, thanks," Mirabella replied, her voice as calm as ever.

The man sneered, "I suggest you come along quietly. It'd be a real shame if such

a pretty girl got hurt, don't you think?"

"True enough," Mirabella conceded, carefully setting the clay pot down. Then, with deliberate calmness, she rolled up her sleeves, revealing a slender, pale wrist. "But it's really your loss."

With that, she sprang into action.

The men barely had time to blink before one of them found his arm twisted out of place and his knees crashing to the ground.

Her speed was blinding, catching them completely off guard.

"Damn it," cursed the leader, narrowly dodging her strike. He hadn't expected the woman the Count wanted to be this formidable.

He yanked out a gun from his waistband. "Try that again, and see what happens."

To ensure he had the upper hand without actually harming Mirabella, he fired a shot at the ground, shattering the clay pot.

The sound of the pot breaking was like a snapped wire in Mirabella's mind, leaving her momentarily stunned.