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

“Hey, Mirabella, the director asked me to let you know that they’ve retrieved your acceptance letter from the security guard. Poor guy had a stomach upset and left his phone behind, so that’s why the morning was such a mess. Don’t sweat it okay?”

Annette relayed Anthony’s message straight to the point.

Mirabella pondered for a moment before responding softly, “Got It, Ms. Annette.”

Noticing how well–behaved Mirabella was, Annette couldn’t help but give her some advice, “I know you’re new around here, and Parkside High School’s teaching methods might be different from what you’re used to back in your hometown. Senior year is crucial so if there’s anything you don’t understand, you must ask your teachers. Alright?”

Mirabella, facing Annette’s “1–know–you’re–struggling–but–l–want–to–help‘ expression, just curled her lips into a confident smile and gave a playful wink. “Ms. Annette, you could stand to have a little more faith in me.”

Annette was momentarily bemused by Mirabella’s smile, and by the time she snapped back to reality, Mirabella had already walked away.

This student… maybe she isn’t as hopeless as Morgan made her out to be.

As soon as Mirabella stepped out of the school gates, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to see an unknown number calling. At that moment, a series of car horns sounded nearby. She looked up to see a familiar black sedan. Raising an eyebrow. Mirabella chose not to answer the call. Instead, she walked slowly toward the car. Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

The car window rolled down to reveal the face she had seen that morning. “Need a lift?”

“Are you offering to buy me dinner?” Mirabella teased, not moving an inch or asking if he had been waiting for her.

James satinside the car, a soft smile playing across his lips, softening his usually stem features. “I don’t see why not.” After a moment’s thought, Mirabella opened the rear door and said, “Sure, but I have to head home after. Don’t want to worry the folks.” Once settled in the car, she quickly texted Delilah.

“Playing the good girl now?” James started the engine and glanced at Mirabella with disbelief, as if the rebellious girl–next–door he remembered was just an illusion.

Turning to face him, Mirabella’s response was coy, “When have I ever been anything but?”

James chuckled and shook his head, deciding against mentioning her past midnight escapades. Bringing that up might just earn him an accusation of snooping.

Before long, they pulled up in front of a quaint bistro in the city. The place had a certain charm to it. They entered the private dining room. Mirabells tossed her backpack onto a chair and, without ceremony, grabbed the menu. She quickly picked out a few of her favorites before remembering her host was also waiting to order.

James added a couple of dishes and then dismissed the waiter, leaving them alone in the room.

Mirabella fiddled with her phone, casually asking. “How’d you get my number, anyway?”

She was sure she hadn’t given it to him.

Pouring himself a cup of coffee with deliberate slowness, James watched the steam rise and vanish into the air before answering, “Your grandma asked me to look out for you.”

At this, Mirabella looked up, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity, clearly not expecting such a revelation from him.