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

"Who still smokes these old-fashioned cigarettes these days?" Atlas exclaimed in surprise.

Mirabella didn't respond to Atlas, merely moving her fingers to hold the cigarette holder in her hand, her gaze lowered. After a few seconds, she suddenly stood up, looking around.

When she had arrived, the cigarette holder hadn't been at her feet, which meant someone had deliberately dropped it there... and the only person who had passed by her was the janitor, Marian.

After scanning the area, Mirabella's gaze finally landed on the figure of Marian, pushing a trash cart away in the distance. She paused for a moment, then quickly said to Atlas, "Atlas, wait for me here, I'm going to the restroom."

With that, she walked out of the VIP lounge.

Atlas watched Mirabella leave, a trace of confusion in his eyes.

Something seemed off with Miss Mira, especially after she saw the cloth bag he had picked up; her behavior was noticeably odd.

Although it was strange, Atlas didn't follow her, opting instead to sit down and wait on the lounge chair.

*noveldrama

Meanwhile, Mirabella had left the VIP area, managing to follow Marian. However, she quickly lost sight of her due to the bustling crowd, and the person disappeared.

Mirabella stopped where the person had vanished, her brows furrowed tightly, and her expression cold and stern.

She looked around the vast airport lobby, trying to discern where the person had gone, and soon, she quickly walked towards the left, heading to the exit leading to the airport's parking lot.

Upon reaching the parking lot designated for staff, Mirabella saw the trash cart parked in a corner.

The trash cart was there, but apart from her, the parking lot was eerily quiet, devoid of any other people.

Mirabella narrowed her eyes, her fingertips holding a silver needle. After about half a minute, she suddenly turned around, and with a flick of her wrist, the silver needle flew towards a sedan parked not too far away.

The needle shot towards the direction, and a figure swiftly dodged it.

Mirabella looked emotionlessly at the person who finally stopped skulking in the shadows. The person appeared to be in their forties or fifties, a stranger she had never seen before.

But upon closer inspection, something about the face seemed off.

It looked fake.

"You're indeed not dead," the man's calm voice came through, "Cian."