The Princess and the Pauper (Arabella)

Chapter 1721

“Martha, | found nothing.”

“Shere,” cthe echo.

With a curt nod, Martha signaled them to tie up Arabella 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 Arabella were hauled up to the eighteenth floor, each bound to a cold, unyielding chair. Horace squirmed, trying to find

ssemblance of comfort, but was promptly rewarded with a gun barrel pressed against his temple.

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“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, Arabella 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 Arabella's phone. On the phone's screensaver was a photo of Arabella and

Romeo's silhouettes, a photo that Romeo had sweet-talked Arabella into using.

At that moment, Martha, whether out of anger for Serena or a desire to prevent Arabella 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 Arabella 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 Arabella, 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 Arabella's thumb, the way her darling daughter Serena had been tormented

by this wretch.

Today, she would have her revenge.

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Her eyes, gleaming with malice, bore into Arabella 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 Arabella’s bun, spitting venomously, “With all your identities, your success out there, why cback for the

Collins family heiress title? You could have lived well enough. but no, you chose to cback for your doom!”

“Don’t you touch my boss! Catif 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 cfrom 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.