Filed To Story: Returning to Her Not-So-Poor Family
“With his dying breath, he pointed to that guy with the buzz cut and told me two words, ‘Tower Bay’.”
“Tower Bay? That’s been a derelict building site for years. There was this big-shot developer who planned to build a fancy residential area, complete with an agreement with the local government to plant oak trees, improve the sidewalks, invest in hot springs, and the like. They said it was all set, but the developer went bankrupt halfway through the construction.”
And so the building became a derelict site.
As Horace shared this, he couldn’t help but speculate, “Could it be that with his last breath, Viper had a change of heart, wanting to tell us that those guys, including the buzz cut, have their hideout in Tower Bay?”
“Quite possible.”
That’s why Mirabella wanted to follow them.
“Boss.” Horace glanced at the street sign. “The direction they’re headed looks like Tower Bay.”
“Stay on them.”
The white car ahead was fleeing frantically on the nighttime road, like someone running for their life.
Horace pursued relentlessly, refusing to let up.The chase led them down a desolate street, with a dead end ahead. On the left was the half-built derelict high-rise, and on the right were rows of large trees.
Horace followed them into the derelict building’s parking lot, only to find their car had disappeared, the sound of their engine gone.
Apart from the light from Horace’s car, the surroundings were pitch-black, giving him the creeps.
“Boss.” Before Horace could utter a word, Mirabella issued a command, “Pull out.”
Before Horace could react, the roaring engines of dozens of cars surrounded them, trapping them in a ring of blinding headlights.
People got out of their cars, weapons in hand.
Just as Horace was about to step on the gas, something heavy slammed onto the roof of his car.
Taking a glance, the entire car seemed to have been lifted off the ground.
“Jump.” Mirabella opened the door and leaped out, with Horace scrambling to follow her.
Their car was hoisted high and then dropped, smashing to the ground.
“Boss.”
Mirabella quickly pulled him aside to take cover.
As their car crashed down, shattering glass with a loud bang and sending shards flying, Mirabella caught sight of a person stepping out from the crowd.
It was Martha.
Everyone made way as Martha strode up to Mirabella with deliberate ease.
She was no longer the former servant in the Collins family’s uniform, but rather sported a sleek short haircut, wearing leather jackets and pants, giving off a bit of a bossy assassin vibe.
A chilly smile played across Martha’s lips as she towered over Mirabella, her gaze laced with malice.
“Surprised, are you?”
In Mirabella’s memory, Martha was the epitome of loyalty, a servant who would cry out in pain from a mere stumble, or weep profusely, begging for forgiveness for any minor transgression.
But the woman before her bore an enormous contrast to the old servant etched in her recollection.
Horace, clueless about this enigmatic older woman’s identity, could only sense an underlying vendetta between her and Mirabella.
“So, are all these your guys?” Mirabella rose to her feet, a nonchalant smirk curving her lips, seemingly unfazed by the looming threat, and asked casually, “Who are you working for?”
“Do you think you’re entitled to that information? All you need to know is that now you’re in my clutches, and I’ll make you beg for mercy and crave death!” Martha’s laughter echoed like a specter from hell, chilling to the bone in the dead of night.
Around them, more than twenty cars formed a tight circle, completely trapping Mirabella and Horace within.
Martha has over a hundred henchmen, all armed and aimed at them. Any slight move from them and they’d be riddled with bullets in an instant.Horace felt the tension rising within him, his eyes instinctively searching for Mirabella. He was about to measure the situation and follow her in a desperate breakout when he saw her casually raise both hands in a gesture of surrender.
Horace’s eyes widened in shock. Was this something his boss would do?
Back in the infamous triangular zone, amidst perilous chaos, Mirabella had fought tooth and nail, refusing to surrender, ultimately carving a bloody path to safety.
Yet now, without a single shot fired, she was throwing in the towel.
Had he been mistaken?
The night was shattered by Martha’s shrill laughter as Mirabella raised her hands in surrender.
“Mirabella, Mirabella, who would’ve thought you’d end up like this. Well, at least you’ve got some sense,”
Martha said, clearly delighted by Mirabella’s capitulation, her laughter betraying her elation. “No matter how swift you are, can you outrun a bullet? You’re Dr. Bell, with a knack for detecting any drug.”
Pacing before Mirabella, Martha continued, “But alas, your skills made you quite the catch.”
“So you resorted to underhanded tactics, didn’t you? Nora suddenly having a ‘heart attack’ while flying me to Dawnstar, the mysterious figure at the mountaintop restaurant, the billboard that nearly crushed me, the slander against Ar-Bl-Clear Group’s skincare line, the lip-syncing scandal. Did you orchestrate all that?”
“Sharp as ever,” said Martha, her gaze tinged with pity and faux sympathy. “Too bad, you’ll be dying by my hand soon. Hand over everything you’ve got—phones, weapons, the works. Otherwise, if my people find anything during their search, you’ll be skinned alive.”
Her laughter was both sinister and sly.Mirabella tossed her phone and a folding pocket knife onto the ground.
Seeing Mirabella comply, Horace decided to empty his pockets as well, throwing everything, including his watch, at Martha’s feet.
Martha signaled to her subordinates with a glance, and promptly a man and a woman stepped forward to frisk them.
After a while, they returned, having found nothing.
“Martha, I found nothing.”
“Same here,” came the echo.
With a curt nod, Martha signaled them to tie up Mirabella and Horace.
They were in an unfinished high-rise, a skeleton of a building that rose nineteen stories into the sky.
Without any windows, the chill outside swept in, bringing with it the snowflakes that danced on the merciless wind.
Horace couldn’t help but sneeze.
He and Mirabella were hauled up to the eighteenth floor, each bound to a cold, unyielding chair. Horace squirmed, trying to find some semblance of comfort, but was promptly rewarded with a gun barrel pressed against his temple.
“Don’t move,” a female killer hissed with icy precision.
“Not even a twitch?” Horace quipped, his eyes widening as the gun dug deeper, coercing a resigned nod from him. Fine, fine, he’d stay put. What was the big deal anyway?
Despite being tied up, Mirabella exuded an aura of authority, as if she were the queen on a chessboard, moving pieces at her will.
Martha stood at the edge of the 18th floor, holding Mirabella’s phone. On the phone’s screensaver was a photo of Mirabella and Romeo’s silhouettes, a photo that Romeo had sweet-talked Mirabella into using.
At that moment, Martha, whether out of anger for Serena or a desire to prevent Mirabella from communicating, suddenly changed her expression and fiercely threw the phone off the building.“Hey, that’s my boss’s phone.” Horace heard the crash, imagining the device in pieces. Was this woman nuts? Why smash it when confiscating it would’ve sufficed? That phone was actually developed by Mirabella and had a lot of features, along with several confidential items inside.
The killer pressed the gun harder against Horace’s head as if to silence him without words.
Martha turned to see Mirabella, once unattainably proud, and her loyal henchman Horace, now pathetically tied to chairs. Behind them stood hundreds of her guys. The two were completely at her mercy.
The thought brought a vicious laugh to her lips. She had waited so long for this day.
She thought about the six months of humiliation under Mirabella’s thumb, the way her darling daughter Serena had been tormented by this wretch.
Today, she would have her revenge.
Her eyes, gleaming with malice, bore into Mirabella as she stepped closer.
Horace couldn’t fathom why this old bat kept breaking into these fits of laughter. Was she touched in the head?
Martha grabbed Mirabella’s bun, spitting venomously, “With all your identities, your success out there, why come back for the Collins family heiress title? You could have lived well enough. but no, you chose to come back for your doom!”
“Don’t you touch my boss! Come at me if you dare!” Horace bellowed. “You think you’re worthy of touching her hair?”
Martha turned to Horace with a mocking smile. “Oh, look at the loyal little pup. You, my dear, have quite a knack for winning hearts. In the Collins household, you swayed all the servants loyal to Serena.Impressive. Someone gag him.”
Muffled protests came from Horace, even with his mouth gagged, he struggled fiercely, itching to take a swing at the old hag.
Damn it, they could do whatever they wanted to him, but laying a finger on his boss? That was a line no one was allowed to cross.
Mirabella tilted her chin up at Horace with a look that said, “Relax, I’ve got this.”
To the casual observer, she seemed to be signaling Horace not to rile up Martha. But Horace, who had spent enough time with Mirabella, instantly understood the meaning behind her gaze. He got the message loud and clear.
Chuckling under his breath, he threw a defiant glare at the female killer, his posture slouched and rebellious, though noticeably less volatile than before.
“The little mutt sure knows how to obey.” Martha sneered as she flicked Mirabella’s bun, pacing back and forth. “What to do, what to do? I don’t catch you every day, and now I find myself almost reluctant to see you dead.”
Mirabella raised her clear eyes, her tone as calm as a gentle breeze, “I’m bound to die at your hands sooner or later, so why not let me die with some clarity? Is it because I’ve returned to this house, threatening your daughter’s status, that you think I should die?”