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

Chapter 13

As Emmitt and Summer stepped into the elevator, Delilah’s facade of polite
unfamiliarity instantly gave way to a tender watchfulness. She turned to Mirabella
with a voice softer than a southern breeze, cooing. “Sweetheart, let's get you
inside...

Before the elevator doors slid shut, Summer caught a glimpse of her foster
mother’s abrupt switch in demeanor. Summer's face turned a shade of
unpleasant darkness in the blink of an eye.

The Davis residence wasn't exactly a mansion, but their two—story duplex
boasted a comfortable size. The décor was a refined blend of classical elegance
with furniture that gave the impression of heirloom quality. You could tell the
homeowners had a discerning eye.

Mirabella took her time surveying the place until her gaze landed on a framed
piece of painting on the wall A flicker of surprise crossed her eyes, but it was
quickly dismissed as she mentally rejected the possibility of it being an original
masterpiece. Even though the Davis family didn’t seem to be living hand—to—
mouth, they were hardly in the league of owning priceless art. The painting was
likely a replica.

Shawn, who had been ruminating on how to break the ice with his daughter,
caught the brief moment of her attention on the artwork. He saw an opportunity
and spun it. “Mira, do you have an appreciation for painting?” he asked, his face
blooming with an easy smile.

Mirabella’s eyebrows arched slightly as she lazily replied, “Nope, not interested.”
Shawn was momentarily taken aback, and his throat clogged with a barrage of
artsy topics that never saw the light of day. After a moment, he managed to utter.
“Oh, you're not, huh...”

Seeing him look a bit deflated, Mirabella added after a thoughtful pause.
“Different strokes for different folks.”

That seemed to restore Shawn's paternal pride, and he eagerly followed up. “So,
what are your interests then?”

Mirabella, recalling her life before this body hop, fell into silence. Then, lifting her
head to face Shawn with earnest eyes, she confessed. “Studying.”

The response almost broke Shawn’s composure, his eyebrow twitching violently.
How was a girl notorious for skipping classes now claiming her passion was
studying?

Shawn observed his seemingly serious daughter and began to wonder if he had
been misled during his previous inquiries at the small-town school.

“Shawn, are you showing off that old scribble again?” Delilah’s voice cut through
the air as she carried dishes from the kitchen, her eyes casting a playful yet
scathing glance at him. With a commanding shout, she added, “Come and set
the table already!”

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“It's not showing off.” Shawn

protested, touching his nose before
reluctantly heading toward the

kitchen, muttering under his breath,

“Why does everything look like junk to
you? That plece is actually...” The

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the latest chapter there!

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His words trailed off into an

unintelligible mumble, so Mirabella

didn't quite catch the rest. However,

the term “old scribble’ used by Delilah

was loud and clear. The content is on
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chapter there!

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After dinner, Delilah led Mirabella

upstairs. The second floor housed

four rooms. The one prepared for
Mirabella was at the far end of the
hallway on the right. As Delilah

pushed open the door, she explained,
“This room used to belong to Leo.

He's got ants in his pants and hardly

ever shows up at home, so I decided

to give the place a makeover. Take a

look, do you like it?” The content is on
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chapter there!