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

Her gaze was so sincere that it was impossible to mistake her words for anything but the truth. Such a sensible daughter she had. Delilah couldn’t help but silently chew her eldest son out. The boy must’ve been blind to accuse his sister of having a bad temper

“Ahem, glad you’re not upset. Your dad said he’ll drive you to school tomorrow. You can sleep in a bit, Delilah said

hastily.

“Okay.” Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Then get some rest early. Don’t stay up too late. I’m heading out.” Delilah advised, then turned to leave.

“Mom, wait a sec.” Mirabella suddenly called her back, then turned and walked into her room.

In just a moment, Mirabella returned to the doorway, handing Delilah a porcelain jar. “Take one every three days, and within a month, your migraines should clear up.”

Delilah, somewhat stunned, took the jar. “This…did this come from a friend of yours?” She remembered her daughter mentioning something similar a few days ago, along with a package that had arrived today.

Mirabella gave a noncommittal hum in response.

Holding the jar for some time. Delilah finally smiled and said. “Thank your friend for me. That’s very thoughtful.”

Although the last remedy Mirabella had given her did work wonders, Delilah didn’t quite believe in a complete cure for her migraines. Nonetheless, it was the thought that counted, and she appreciated her daughter’s concern.

Mirabella could see the skepticism in Delilah’s eyes but just smiled without further explanation.

The next morning dawned crisp and clear.

Mirabella descended the stairs dressed casually, her long ponytail swishing and a modest canvas backpack slung her shoulder. Though her look was simple, her striking, sculpted features lent her an effortlessly cool air.

Delilah watched her daughter with a sense of pride, thinking that while some people needed clothes to look good. Mirabella made the clothes look good. Whatever Mirabella wore, she wore with style.

But then-

“Mira, why aren’t y

you wearing any of the clothes I bought you? Don’t you like them?” Delilah asked. Her hands were crossed over her chest, suddenly feeling that the skirts and dresses she’d chosen might not be quite right for her daughter.

Hearing this, Mirabella quickly explained to prevent another ‘we can replace them if you don’t like them‘ kind of extravagant offer. “I’m just more comfortable in pants, and I’ll be wearing a uniform at school anyway.”

Delilah considered this and then conceded, “Alright, my bad. I’ll pick out some pants for you next time.”

over

A daughter who could pull off sweet, cool, and everything in between? Absolutely needed the right wardrobe!

Shawn, who had been reading the newspaper, also set it aside and picked up a card he had prepared earlier, walking over to her. “Sweetheart, I didn’t know what to get you, and I’m not sure what you’re into. This card is my back–to–school gift to you–no limits, use it for whatever you need.”

Mirabella’s smile twitched as her eyes landed on the offered black card. Weren’t they supposed to be a struggling household?

A black card with no spending limit? This felt bizarrely like the luxury of a hidden, wealthy family.

Seeing her stunned expression, Shawn remembered she had grown up in a small town. After a few seconds of thought. he insisted on putting the card in her hand, adding. “Keep the card for now. The pin is your birthday. If you’re not comfortable using it, no worries–I’ll go to the bank later and withdraw some cash for you.”

Mirabella was forcibly handed the card and felt like she was about to be bombarded with cash. What was going on?