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

The Earl's Manor.

When the secretary showed up, Murray was already busy entertaining an important guest, so he had no choice but to wait in the downstairs parlor, trying not to disturb the proceedings.

In the coffee room, Murray gently refilled the coffee cup of the blonde man seated at the head of the table. "I'll have another go at negotiating with the Weapons Bureau."

The blonde man's skin was pale, almost ghostly, and he shot Murray a glance that was tinged with sarcasm. "You really think there's any wiggle room left?"

Murray felt a cold sweat trickle down his back and he lowered his head slightly. "I believe the Weapons Bureau won't dare refuse us."

"Us?" Lockie's lips, devoid of color, curled slightly. "What respect can a man who's on death's door command?"

Murray looked up, clearly worried. "Your health..."

Lockie suddenly broke into a harsh cough, the kind that brought just a hint of color to his pale cheeks, but it only made him look more delicate, like he was on the brink of collapse.

Seeing this, a complicated expression flashed across Murray's face.

Given the prince's current state, he knew he had to start considering other options. It was becoming painfully clear that despite Lockie being the legitimate heir, his frail health would likely prevent him from ever taking his rightful place.

Over the past couple of years, watching Lockie weaken, Murray had often regretted placing his bets on the wrong side.

Lockie finally settled down, the coughing subsided. He tucked away his handkerchief and said, "Don't worry. I'm not kicking the bucket just yet."

Murray hesitated. "Isn't there anything the First Base can do?"

Lockie just shook his head with a wry smile. "We'll just have to leave it to fate."

Hearing this, Murray's heart sank even further.

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If even the First Base couldn't cure the prince, then it was grim indeed... Lockie stood up, smoothed his coat, and looked at Murray with a nonchalant air. "Since you seer confident, I expect to see some real results in two days."

He was referring to the batch of weapons they failed to secure at last night's auction.

Without waiting for Murray to reply, he walked out.

Murray stayed put, lost in thought, his expression shifting with unspoken

concerns.

As Lockie exited the manor and settled into the car, his trusted aide in the passenger seat turned to him. "By the way, Prince, Bowe just called. He mentioned a friend has a remedy that might be worth trying for your condition." noveldrama

Lockie's face remained impassive, having grown weary of the constant cycle of hope and disappointment. He leaned back, eyes closed, visibly drained. "Thank the professor for me. I appreciate his efforts."

The aide quickly realized that James wasn't planning to try this new remedy.

Recalling Bowe's words, he added, "The professor noted it's a traditional remedy from the East, like herbal medicine. He's been digging into this for years. He wouldn't suggest it without some confidence."

After a pause, Lockie waved a hand, his voice void of expectation. "Alright. Let's give it a shot."

The aide breathed a sigh of relief.

After all, what if it actually worked?

Back at the manor, Murray's secretary waited until Lockie had left before heading to the coffee room.

Upon entering, he found Murray standing by the floor-to-ceiling window. He paused, then approached quietly, "Earl, there's something I need to discuss with you."