The Double or more Life of the Fake Heiress (Mirabella) novel Chapter 664

Jenna noticed the fleeting complexity in Mirabella's expression before giving her an approving thumbs-up.

"Queen Mira, you never fail to amaze. Your finesse in this little game is on another level!"

Mirabella raised an eyebrow, recalling the supportive messages from classmates on Messenger after the Twitter drama yesterday. Seeing everyone in such high spirits, she decided to be generous for once. "If any of you have friends who want in, I can take up to three extra requests per person," she offered.

A shy voice broke the silence, "Can I get an autographed photo, please?"

Mirabella, who wasn't into fan culture and had no clue what an 'autographed photo' was, paused for a moment before nodding, "Sure."

It's just a signature, right?

The student's visible joy set off a chain reaction, turning a single request into a class-wide demand for personalized autographs.

Watching the students eagerly compile their lists, Jenna turned to Mirabella. "Queen Mira, do you even know what an 'autographed photo' is?"

"Not a clue," Mirabella replied, completely unapologetic.

Jenna chuckled, shaking her head, and then explained, "An 'autographed photo' means the signature is personally addressed to the fan."

While a plain signature might be easy—many celebrities had teams to handle those—personalized ones required the star's own hand.

With at least forty die-hard Juztin fans in the class, and considering Mirabella's generous offer to take extra requests, there were easily over a hundred autographs to sign. Someone was definitely in for a sore wrist.

Jenna couldn't help but sigh in admiration; she had underestimated Queen Mira. Mirabella was just as skilled at ensnaring her own 'brother' as she was anyone else.

Before Mirabella's return, Summer had forbidden even the mention of his name at school, let alone distributing his autographs.

Why should Mirabella get to do this?

Although she knew she shouldn't dwell on this double standard, she couldn't help herself.

Summer flipped through her book, agitated, as her phone began to vibrate in her pocket. She didn't want to check it, not even caring to see who it was.

But after several minutes of incessant buzzing, she snatched it out, irritation evident in her movements.

She'd stayed up too late, and the rest of her writing awaited her, unfinished—a silent testament to her inner turmoil.