The Princess and the Pauper (Arabella)

Chapter 1720

Everyone made way as Martha strode up to Arabella with deliberate ease.

She was no longer the former servant in the Collins family's uniform, but rather sported a sleek short haircut, wearing leather

jackets and pants, giving off a bit of a bossy assassin vibe.

A chilly smile played across Martha's lips as she towered over Arabella, her gaze laced with malice. "Surprised, are you?"

In Arabella's memory, Martha was the epitof loyalty, a servant who would cry out in pain from a mere stumble, or weep

profusely, begging for forgiveness for any minor transgression.

But the woman before her bore an enormous contrast to the old servant etched in her recollection.

Horace, clueless about this enigmatic older woman's identity, could only sense an underlying vendetta between her and Arabella.

"So, are all these your guys?" Arabella rose to her feet, a nonchalant smirk curving her lips, seemingly unfazed by the looming

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threat, and asked casually, "Who are you working for?"

"Do you think you're entitled to that information? All you need to know is that now you're in my clutches, and I'll make you beg for

mercy and crave death!" Martha's laughter echoed like a specter from hell, chilling to the bone in the dead of night.

Around them, more than twenty cars formed a tight circle, completely trapping Arabella and Horace within.

Martha has over a hundred henchmen, all armed and aimed at them. Any slight move from them and they'd be riddled with bullets

in an instant.

Horace felt the tension rising within him, his eyes instinctively searching for Arabella. He was about to measure the situation and

follow her in a desperate breakout when he saw her casually raise both hands in a gesture of surrender.

Horace's eyes widened in shock. Was this something his boss would do?

Back in the infamous triangular zone, amidst perilous chaos, Arabella had fought tooth and nail, refusing to surrender, ultimately

carving a bloody path to safety.

Yet now, without a single shot fired, she was throwing in the towel.

Had he been mistaken?

The night was shattered by Martha's shrill laughter as Arabella raised her hands in surrender.

"Arabella, Arabella, who would've thought you'd end up like this. Well, at least you've got ssense," Martha said, clearly

delighted by Arabella's capitulation, her laughter betraying her elation. "No matter how swift you are, can you outrun a bullet?

You're Dr. Bell, with a knack for detecting any drug."

Pacing before Arabella, Martha continued, "But alas, your skills made you quite the catch."

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"So you resorted to underhanded tactics, didn’t you? Nora suddenly having a 'heart attack’ while flyingto Dawnstar, the

mysterious figure at the mountaintop restaurant, the billboard that nearly crushed me, the slander against Ar-Bl-Clear Group's

skincare line, the lip-syncing scandal. Did you orchestrate all that?"

"Sharp as ever," said Martha, her gaze tinged with pity and faux sympathy. "Too bad, you'll be dying by my hand soon. Hand over

everything you've got—phones, weapons, the works. Otherwise, if my people find anything during their search, you'll be skinned

alive."

Her laughter was both sinister and sly.

Arabella tossed her phone and a folding pocket knife onto the ground.

Seeing Arabella comply, Horace decided to empty his pockets as well, throwing everything, including his watch, at Martha's feet.

Martha signaled to her subordinates with a glance, and promptly a man and a woman stepped forward to frisk them.

After a while, they returned, having found nothing.