<b>Chapter </b><b>409 </b>
<b>Mirabe felt </b><b>the </b><b>pressure </b><b>on </b><b>her shoulder </b>diminish<b>, </b><b>and she </b>seemed <b>to </b><b>finally </b><b>snap </b><b>back </b><b>to </b>reality<b>. </b><b>Turning </b><b>to </b>look at <b>him</b>, it took <b>her </b><b>a </b>moment <b>before </b><b>she </b>rasped, “<b>Thanks</b><b>, </b>I’m <b>fine</b>.<b>” </b>
<b>“</b><b>Be </b>careful. A fall <b>from </b>here isn’t just a simple injury,” James warned, ncing <b>down </b><b>before </b><b>adding </b>with <b>a </b>half–joke, “You don’t look like you’ve got much muscle on you. Need <b>me </b><b>to </b><b>y </b><b>the </b>knight <b>and </b>carry you down<b>?</b><b>” </b>
<b>James</b>‘ words resonated clearly through the phone, which was still clutched tightly in <b>Mirabe’s </b>hand.
<b>The </b>old man, mid–bite into his apple, perked up at the conversation, a sudden excitement shing across his face.
A wry smile twitched at the corners of Mirabe’s mouth as she shrugged off the hand from her shoulder and headed down the stairs. “I’m alright.”
Once downstairs, Mirabe remembered the call was still connected and, with a tone thick with impatience, she held the phone to her ear. “Cut the act. You tick me off, and I won’t spare even the elderly.”
James, walking alongside, overheard and cast a discreet nce at Mirabe. “The kid’s got a short fuse today,” James thought.
“Oh, then you’d bettere visit me. If you don’t, I’ll just show up at your doorstep. And hey, I haven’t had dinner yet, so sort yourself out,” the old man on the other end of the line said nonchntly before hanging up.
Mirabe sighed. Never had she seen such a brazen freeloader!
James coughed and casually inquired, “Who’s this?”
Rubbing her temples, Mirabe quickly pocketed her phone. “It’s nothing. I’m heading home, and there’s no need to walk me out.”
<b>With </b>that, she strode toward the vi’s exit, her tall, slender silhouette seemingly radiating a barely–there aura of threat.
<b>Curtis</b>, just entering, greeted her, but she only waved back without a trace of expression. Sensing that same menacing vibe, Curtis approached his boss and asked with genuine curiosity, “Is Ms. Mirabe in a bad mood today?”
<b>With </b>his eyes half–closed, James replied softly, “Seems like something’s up.”
<b>At </b>that, Curtis piped <b>up</b>, “Should I look into it?” Mirabe had be their savior<b>, </b><b>so </b>her <b>concerns </b>were now their own<b>, </b>demanding their attention.
James nced <b>at </b>him <b>and </b>simply said, “No need,” before turning to walk <b>into </b><b>the </b><b>living </b>
10.29
Toom, where he settled into a couch with an ease that suggested he had all the time in the warld
“Alright then” Curtis followed, ready to deliver his report.
James lounged back, legs casually crossed, embodying rzed grace. After a moment, The opened his eyes and looked at Curtis. “Where’s my grandfather?<i>” </i>
Scratching his head, Curtis looked embarrassed. “The staff report that Donald has left Riverdale, but where to, I’m not sure. He shook off anyone who was following him.*
James massaged his temples, clearly irritated. “Alright, I got it.”
“I’ll have people monitor the airports, train stations, hotels, and resorts. As soon as they spot Donald, I’ll have him followed,” Curtis offered,
James hummed in acknowledgment, paused, and then added, “Donald’s always been slippery, not one to take the beaten path. It’s no surprise if he’s hard to track. Just make sure the people in Riverdale don’t catch wind that he’s gone rogue.”
Curtis nodded in understanding. “Got it.”