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

Seeing that Leo finally had some reaction, Collins, as if accustomed to his erratic way of speaking, handed over the water in his hand, and said with a somewhat solemn tone. “Leo, when are you gonna stop throwing yourself this pity party?”

Leo stared blankly at the celling, his brooding gaze quickly replaced by the stillness of a stagnant pond. After an agonizing silence, he spoke with a bitter edge, “Not being able to get back on stage is like a death sentence to me. I’m practically useless, man. Do you get that?”

Collins opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of what to say next. He understood all too well the turrnoil eating away

at Leo.

Leo was his discovery, a prodigy in music production, singing, and dancing–a natural–born superstar destined for the spotlight. But a single accident had shattered his foundation, and for someone as fiercely proud as Leo, it was a devastating blow.

“Don’t give up, Leo. Medicine’s advanced so much, someone out there’s gotta have the fix you need,” Collins said, his throat dry, repeating the same hopeful lines, even though he felt utterly helpless.

A hollow laugh escaped Leo as he closed his eyes, turning his head away from Collins, shutting down any further conversation.

Collins let out a wry chuckle, setting the glass down on the nightstand with a soft clink. He straightened up, schooling his emotions into neutrality, and headed for the door. Then he paused, recalling something Mirabella from the Davis family had mentioned as he was leaving. Turning slightly, his voice

softened, “Your sister wanted me to tell you that your mom hit the supermarket early today, and stocked up on all your favorite grub.”

A few silent seconds passed before Collins seemed to reach a decision. “Leo, I don’t want to cover for you with your folks anymore. I didn’t tell your sister that you weren’t coming home tonight either. Whether you go back or not, that’s on you.”

“I’m out.”

The sound of the door closing echoed from the entrance. The bedroom, at this moment, became very quiet, in a way

that was eerily unsettling.

Leo on the bed opened his eyes, with a complex expression in his eyes. He clenched his fists, frustration boiling over as he pulled the covers over his head.

Ten minutes later, he threw the covers off with a curse, sitting up abruptly, and after a moment of indecision, he got out of bed.

Around eight in the evening. All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

Delilah sat on the couch, glancing between the clock on the wall and the front door, her face betraying her anxious wait.

Mirabella lounged beside her, idly scrolling through her phone, seemingly detached from the tension in the air.

“Mira, you hungry? Go ahead and eat,” Delilah suggested, her voice tinged with motherly concern.

Mirabella put her phone away, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe Leo’s tied up with something. He might not make it back tonight.”

But Delilah shook her head, her smile unwavering. “Your brother might be busy, but he doesn’t break his word. If his agent said he’s coming, he’ll be here.”

In truth, if her son were really coming, they wouldn’t need an agent to drop off gifts in his stead.

Mirabella’s expression remained neutral, tempted to speak her mind, yet choosing to hold her tongue upon seeing the hopeful look plastered across Delilah’s face.

12:33

A short while later, the doorbell rang. “That’s gotta be your brother,” Delilah said confidently, rising to her feet and heading toward the entrance.

Mirabella raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering in her clear eyes.