In my previous life, I began to age at lightning speed soon after I fired Mirabelle. To be honest, it puzzled me. Mirabelle was only in her 40s, yet I ended up looking like I was in my 60s or 70s. Why was that?

I had only just swallowed my fear when something horrifying struck. All of a sudden, I felt a foreign object in my mouth. When I spat it out, I found two of my teeth lying in my palm.

At that moment, I no longer cared about anything else. I hurriedly texted Mirabelle, asking her to come back.

…

Mirabelle had settled down somewhere and was still live-streaming. The scene of me barging into her room earlier had been broadcast live, and now thousands of viewers were pouring into her stream.

"You latecomers just missed it, but the heiress of the Hawthorne family went ballistic over her housekeeper's glow-up."

"Are you sure that was Rosetta? She looked nothing like her; she looked more like a middle-aged woman who'd let herself go."

Mirabelle received my message and flashed it to the camera with a smug grin. "See that? My employer is begging me to come back."

Her words sparked a flood of comments.

"Don't go back, Belle. I'll send you more bits. We don't need that measly paycheck anyway!"

"That employer of yours sounds unstable. For your own safety, stay away!"

Mirabelle preened at the camera. "Hear that, Mrs. Pembroke? Everyone's worried about me and telling me not to go back. If you want to know how I became prettier and younger, beg me for it!

"Maybe then I'll tell you. Didn't you say you'd pay any price?" So, she'd known all along that I was watching her stream. My heart sank.

Recalling the information my assistant had uncovered, I sent her a message. "You're from Montsrutt, right? You never worked at the Larkspur residence.

"I heard your husband died under suspicious circumstances. Shall I keep digging?"

Without the slightest change in expression, she read my message and sighed at the camera. "There my employer goes again, begging me to come back. It looks like she really can't do without me. I suppose I'll take pity on her and go back tomorrow."

When I heard that, I clenched my fists, yet I also felt strangely relieved.

…

However, the following day, moans drifted from the master bedroom next door. Swallowing my revulsion, I walked to the door.

The sight inside struck me like a bolt out of the blue. The woman lying beneath Marcus with a look of pure bliss was none other than Mirabelle, looking younger than ever. The gown I'd commissioned for Pembroke Group's anniversary celebration lay torn to shreds on the floor, along with used condoms.

It was no wonder my best friend had messaged me, asking where I was and why Marcus had shown up at the banquet with another woman.

Mirabelle met my eyes and smiled sweetly. "Mrs. Pembroke, I'm Isabelle, Mirabelle's daughter. My mother went back to her hometown and asked me to cover for her for a few days."

Marcus, on the other hand, hurled the glass of water from the nightstand at me. "Who said you could come in? Get out!

"I've already arranged a room for you in a nursing home. You're moving in first thing tomorrow."

He slammed the door in my face. Through the crack, I caught a glimpse of Mirabelle's face twisted with malice and delight. A sharp ache gripped my chest, and I slowly sank to the floor.

In the depths of my despair, I noticed my best friend running toward me. The necklace around her neck swung before my eyes and reminded me of something. My eyes widened, and I urged, "Cecil, quick, get me out of here!"

"Alright, let's get you to the hospital!"

"No, not the hospital. Take me to the place we went last month!"

…

The following day, I clicked on Mirabelle's livestream as if nothing had happened and watched as she clasped my diamond necklace around her neck. "Isn't it beautiful? Mr. Pembroke gave it to me as a birthday present!"

All of a sudden, she let out a shrill scream and then stopped. However, I caught it clearly: a dark spot had suddenly appeared on her porcelain skin. I let out a long, heavy breath of relief.