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

The assistant hummed in acknowledgment and then stepped out of the conference hall once more.

Presley turned around, preparing to sit down at the conference table, when his pocket vibrated with the sound of his phone.noveldrama

He paused for a moment, took out his phone, and saw an unknown number calling. Without much thought, he pressed the decline button.

But just as he did, a message popped up on the screen with just two words.

"Prescription."

Presley's pupils constricted at these words, and the first person he thought of was Mirabella.

And looking at the number of the incoming message, it was the same number he had just declined.

Holding his phone, Presley stood still for a moment, pondering. With about twenty minutes left until the meeting officially started, he tapped the screen twice and hit redial.

Soon, the call connected, and a clear, cold female voice came through:

"I'm in your office."

Hearing this familiar voice, Presley knew it was that girl.

He opened his mouth, about to speak, when the next second, all he heard was the beep of the line being disconnected.

The other party had hung up.

Presley was accustomed to being flattered and rarely experienced such rudeness. However, thinking of the prescription in Mirabella's hands, he quickly suppressed his displeasure.

She must be seeking him out not just to get the medicine to save James but perhaps also to disrupt today's presidential reelection.

Presley could see through her intentions. A slight smile played on his lips as he looked up at the people in front of the conference table and then strode out of the conference hall.

He needed the prescription, and the presidency could only be his.

*

The assistant, seeing Presley suddenly emerge, asked in surprise, "Where are you going?"

Presley raised his hand, "I'm heading back to my office. Keep an eye on things here and call me if anything happens. I'll be back down in a bit."

The assistant nodded in response, quickly acknowledging. Soon, Presley was taking the elevator up to the third floor.

The second-to-last office in the corridor was his. The door was closed Just as Presley was about to swipe his card to unlock it, he paused, remembering what Mirabella had said on the phone.

In his office?

Presley's gaze narrowed slightly, but he proceeded to swipe his card on the door.

The lock clicked open, and he pushed the door and entered.

Upon entering, he saw a slim, tall figure standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, back to the door, wrapped in a black coat exuding a cool aura.

Presley, observing the figure's back, spoke in a steady voice, "How did you get in?"

After a half-minute pause, the cold figure finally turned around nonchalantly, and Mirabella's delicate features came into Presley's view.

"I can get in whenever I want," Mirabella said, a seemingly harmless smile playing on her lips.

She walked a few steps forward and

casually sat down on the couch.

Presley, watching her unreserved demeanor, frowned slightly but decided not to

waste words with Mirabella, "Where's the prescription?"

Mirabella crossed her legs,

embodying a certain indolence. She tilted her head, looking at Presley, and instead of answering, she asked I'm quite curious, how come none of the people behind you have given you a few prescriptions?"

Hearing this, Presley's brow furrowed deeper, noticing that Mirabella's attitude

was clearly different from what he had expected.

It was as if... she wasn't here to beg for medicine, nor to interfere with today's presidential election.