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

Clutching the trophy in her arms. Mirabella listened silently to Mr. Hammond’s words, not uttering a sound.

“International competitions are brimming with talent. Today’s questions would just be a warm–up compared to the ones on the world stage. Our students who’ve gone abroad may have been national champions here but had not even made the top ten there.”

Mr. Hammond shook his head with a wry smile, then glanced sideways at Mirabella and added. “Mirabella, among all the competitors over the years, you’ve consistently scored perfectly. I believe you have a shot at breaking into the top ten.

Before, he had thought that any international ranking would do, even if it were the twentieth or thirtieth. However, after today’s national competition results, he felt that Mirabella’s abilities far surpassed his expectations.

He didn’t dare dream of the number one spot internationally, but the top ten… that seemed within the realm of possibility. What if miracles happened?

Standing at the curb, with the traffic light still red, Mirabella tilted her head towards Mr. Hammond and said quite seriously, “I think you could set a more precise goal”

Mr. Hammond blinked in confusion, not quite understanding her.

As the light turned green, Mirabella stepped onto the crosswalk and floated out the words. “Like, first place.”

Mr. Hammond’s eyes widened, stunned by her seemingly preposterous assertion for a good five seconds before he caught up with her stride.

First place was such a daunting goal. Watching Mirabella’s slender figure walk ahead, her back straight and exuding an innate air of arrogant confidence, a bubbling excitement ignited within Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

him.

Perhaps… it was worth anticipating.

After returning to the hotel, Mirabella rested briefly before packing her bags for the seven. o’clock flight back to Ashford. It was already approaching five. They would soon gather to head to the airport.

While waiting for the flight, Mirabella found time to buy some gifts. The gifts were for her two lovable parents and two funny brothers, whom she loved dearly.

With gifts purchased and time to spare, Mirabella placed her items at her feet, then pulled out her earphones, launched the music app, and cued up Neon Paradox in her favorites to play on a loop.

That was when a text message popped up. It was from an anonymous, hidden number.

(Causing such a commotion at the Riverdale Antiquities Exhibition wasn’t your handiwork, was

it?]

Mirabella touched her nose and quickly replied: [I was studying. Who’s got the time?]

Anonymous: [……]

Anonymous: [I guessed not. It’s not your style.]

Mirabella pursed her lips, no longer interested in engaging with the stranger, and stopped replying. She pocketed her phone, pulled her hoodie over her head, and closed her eyes to rest.

At half–past nine, the plane landed on time at Ashford airport. Mirabella, pulling her luggage, walked out while powering up her phone.

Several missed calls and a bunch of messages on Messenger awaited her.