The Double ( or More ?) Life of The Fake Heiress
Chapter 142

Chapter 142 

Zach steadied himself against the wall, slowly straightening up. With a vigorous shake of his head, he turned to Mirabella and let out a goofy chuckle, “Honestly, I am not wasted.” 

Mirabella shook her head and, once again, reached out to steady him, replying with a half–hearted, “Yeah, I’m the one who’s plastered.” 

“Mira, you didn’t hit the bottle, did you?” Zach, sounding like a lovable oaf, leaned in closer as he spoke. 

Taking a deep breath to suppress the urge to smack him, Mirabella pushed his head to the side, grabbed his arm, and dragged him toward his room. It hardly took any effort at all. “Hold on, I’ll get you some water,” she said, quickly leaving the room after dumping him on the bed. 

In no time, she returned with a glass of tinted water to find Zach had rolled off the bed onto the floor, muttering something incomprehensible. 

Pressing her fingers to her temples, she walked over with a grim expression and hoisted him back onto the bed. 

“Drink this,” she commanded, bringing the glass to Zach’s lips. 

Zach looked at her with bleary eyes, not touching the water, just grinning like a fool, “Mira…” 

Mirabella, done with subtlety, forcibly fed him the water with practiced ease, not spilling a single drop. After all, those years of medicating household pets weren’t for nothing. 

Soon after drinking, Zach calmed down and promptly fell into a deep sleep. Mirabella sat in the room for half an hour, ensuring he wouldn’t cause any more trouble, before heading back to her 

own. 

The next morning was a Saturday. Zach woke up expecting a pounding headache and misery. but surprisingly, he felt nothing amiss. It was as if he hadn’t touched a drop of liquor the night before. 

How bizarre! 

He got out of bed, took a quick shower, changed into fresh clothes, and after making sure he was free of any booze smell, he stepped out of his room and went downstairs. 

Delilah had an early appointment with a designer, so the house was quiet except for Shawn and Mirabella, who were having breakfast. 

Zach pulled up a chair, and as he rubbed his sore shoulder, he glanced at Mirabella. “You took care of me all night, didn’t you, Mirabella? Thanks for that.” 

He only remembered reaching the top of the stairs and his sister supporting him. Everything after was a blackout. 

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Pausing, he asked uneasily, “I… didn’t made a scene last night, did 1?” 

Mirabella lifted her head, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t think so.” 

Zach’s mouth twitched. What did she mean by ‘think?‘ Did he or did he not? 

“You should drink less, Zach. Otherwise, you’ll always need your little sister to look after you. Look at her, she is so petite, doesn’t it prick your conscience?” Shawn chimed in with a displeased look. His daughter hadn’t even taken care of him! 

Zach pushed up his glasses, then took another look at Mirabella. She was thin, indeed, but petite? She was nearly five foot seven – was that petite? Was his dad biased about height? 

“What’s with your shoulder? You’ve been rubbing it non–stop,” Shawn observed. 

Mirabella’s spoon paused mid–air for a split second. 

“Oh, must’ve bumped it somewhere last night when I was drunk. It’s just a bit sore.” Zach replied nonchalantly. 

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