<b>Chapter 463 </b>
Hans watched Leo gazing at his sister with that unmistakable look of adoration and couldn’t help but chuckle, <b>“</b>Sibling bonds are <b>really </b>something<b>, </b>aren’t they<b>?</b><b>” </b>
<b>It </b>was all toomon for people to y up the picture–perfect family on screen for the sake of ratings, but how many <b>of </b>them actually shared this <b>kind </b><b>of </b>rapport behind closed <b>doors</b><b>? </b>
With a <b>soft </b><b>smile </b>that quickly retreated, Mirabe lowered her head again to nce at the stream ofments flowing on her live chat.
She had joined the livestream toote to witness the flood of virtual gifts, so now her screen was filled with a barrage ofments from viewers dying to see her face. Of course, she had missed the moment Heather was awkwardly cornered by the audience asking <b>if </b>she was feeling ‘awkward or something?<b>‘ </b>
Soon after Hans had left, the curiosity from viewers who wanted a glimpse of the elusive sister spiked once again<b>, </b>expressing their disappointment. There was this thing about people. The more elusive something was, the more it piqued their interest. And <b>so</b>, the inte’s curiosity about Mirabe had soared to new heights.
Then, as if on cue, the cameraman made a quiet return<b>, </b>camera in hand.
Mirabe logged out of the livestream and was about to put her phone away when a Messenger notification popped up. She hesitated for a moment before tapping on the message.
Adler<b>: </b><b>[</b>This is you, isn’t it? [Image]] The image was a screenshot from the livestream.
Pressing her fingers to her temples, Mirabe replied, [No, you’ve got it wrong.]
Back at the Riverdale Research Institute, Adler, who was lounging in front of hisputer, alternating between the livestream and his phone, saw Mirabe’s response. He scrutinized the livestream once more and shot back, [Come on, <i>no </i>kidding, I know it’s you.] He snapped another photo from hisputer screen and sent it her way.
Upon receiving the second photo, Mirabe looked up, only now realizing that the cameraman had returned to the room.
Touching his nose self–consciously, Adler sent another message. [You, joining this kind of cheesy show? That’s not your style.] Mirabe typed back with an emotionless face. [You have a problem with that?]
Adler could almost feel the impatience emanating through the screen as he typed back, [No… I mean…]
Mirabe: “You reached out all of a sudden, got something to say<b>?</b><b>” </b>
Spot<b>–</b>on as always, the boss had guessed right.
After a moment’s thought, Adler replied, [We’ll talk after your livestream ends.]
Seeing this, Mirabe sent a terse [Okay] and put her phone away.
Adler leaned back in his chair, his eyesnding on a data sheet lying on his desk. After a long moment, he picked it up, pulled open a drawer, and stashed it away.
The afternoon’s livestream ended amidst a series of contrived challenges <b>set </b>by the production team.
As everyone parted ways, the other guests exchanged farewells.
Heather, still reeling from the mocking she’d endured from the audience during the midday livestream, had been visibly out of sorts for the rest of the day. Watching Mirabe and Leo drive away, her expression turned stormy.
Her assistant<b>, </b>already holding <b>the </b>car door open, inquired softly, “Heather?<b>” </b>
Smoothing her expression, Heather murmured and climbed into the vehicle.
As the car began to move, Heather turned <b>to </b>her assistant <b>in </b>the front seat. “Those ounts that were trolling me at noon… have you found out who’s behind them?<b>” </b>
The assistant, ever vignt of the livestream’s goings–on<b>, </b>replied, “Still no lead, but it feels like some rival fanbase stirring up trouble on purpose<b>.</b><b>” </b>
Heather frowned at this. Initially, she had thought the same, but upon reflection, it didn’t add up.
If <b>it </b>had been rival fans looking to ruffle feathers, they surely wouldn’t <b>be </b>foolish enough to spend that kind of money.