The Double or more Life of the Fake Heiress (Mirabella) novel Chapter 389

Mirabella hadn't employed this technique in ages, yet her movements were as deft as ever. Her eyes sparkled with a touch of excitement as she worked.

The pain that had been plaguing James had subsided considerably. As he watched Mirabella, he couldn't help but feel like an odd specimen under her inquisitive gaze. "Why do I get the feeling you're practicing on me, kiddo?" James squinted his eyes at her.

Mirabella's hand, which was deftly handling the needles, paused. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her face unmoved as she responded, "You're overthinking it."

Without another word, she returned to her task, inserting the final few needles with precision. After a brief two seconds, she pressed gently on the spots and smoothly withdrew them.

Half an hour later, Mirabella finished removing the last needle. She casually grabbed a thin blanket from nearby and draped it over James before collapsing into the chair with a sigh of exhaustion. Her face was even paler than when she first started, and her hands rested limply on her lap, devoid of strength.

"That'll do for today. Give it a few days, and we'll have another session. You shouldn't experience today's symptoms again," she said, catching her breath. "As for your chronic issue, I'll need to do some more research."

"Understood," James replied in his deep, resonant voice. He slowly sat up, letting the blanket slip away to reveal his toned torso and his chiseled features, which carried an air of ascetic beauty.

Catching a glimpse, Mirabella averted her gaze nonchalantly and advised, "You'd better lie down and rest some more."

James raised an eyebrow and methodically began to dress. "I'm feeling much better already." No surprise there, given who was at work.

Clearing her throat, Mirabella simply said, "Good, that's good." She then stood up, using the chair for support, and turned her back to James as she began to pack away the needles.

James nodded.

Wyatt sighed in relief, his eyes brimming with gratitude as he turned back to Mirabella. Recalling the chicken soup he had simmering in the kitchen as a gesture of thanks, he blurted out, "Ah, Ms. Mirabella, I've prepared some chicken soup for you. I'll go fetch it right away."

With that, he hurriedly descended the stairs.

Raising an eyebrow, Mirabella turned to James and remarked, "Wyatt sure is attentive."

Hearing this, James merely narrowed his eyes, a knowing look crossing his face.