The True Mistress Has A Thousand Hidden Identities Chapter 47

Chapter 47: Which Servant’s Daughter Are You?

Translator: Henyee Translations Editor: Henyee Translations

Suddenly, she rushed forward at an astonis.h.i.+ng speed and kicked the little gangster who had shown her a middle finger.

The strong impact almost sent the man flying. His body drew a beautiful arc in the air, hit the wall with a bang, and then rolled to the ground. Within seconds, he was lying on his stomach like a dead fish, unable to move.

The smiles froze on the punks’ faces.

“d.a.m.n it, h.e.l.l!” They cursed loudly and rushed forward together.

Claire strangled the necks of the two of them with her hands and threw them against the wall at the same time. Then, she stepped on a gangster’s shoulder and kicked the other one’s chin.

With a crack, there was a sound of bone breaking.

In less than a minute, all five gangsters were knocked out.

They fell on the ground, vomiting and screaming in pain.

Claire drew a knife and slammed it into the crack of the wall. After that, she lowered her head and stared at them like a fierce wolf pup, her eyes s.h.i.+ning with a murderous gleam.

“Do you want to continue playing?”

The punks paled in fright. They supported each other, and crawled away.

Claire put the knife into her sleeve, grabbed the schoolbag in the corner with one hand, and walked towards Sheldon.

Sheldon was still sitting against the wall in a mess, panting heavily.

Claire half squatted in front of him, rested her chin in her hand, and smiled. “Oh, did our Young Master just have a fight with others?”

Sheldon turned aside his face, bursting with anger and shame. “It’s none of your business.”

Claire raised her eyebrows and said leisurely, “Since someone gave you a second life, you should cherish it.”

Hearing this, Sheldon turned his head with a jerk and stared at Claire in astonishment. “How do you know about this?!”

Without answering him, Claire unzipped her schoolbag, took out a pile of medicine stickers from it, and threw them at Sheldon’s feet.

Sheldon shouted in a huff. “I am not injured!”

Claire smiled silently. “Just because your face is not injured doesn’t mean your body is not, either.”

Sheldon had been cleverly protecting his face during the fight.

Except for his messy hair, his face was still handsome and attractive.

“Try it.” Claire stood up slowly. “I always use it after a fight. It has worked for me.”

With that, she flung her school bag on her shoulder, turned, and walked out of the alley.

Watching the girl’s figure disappearing into the dark night, Sheldon looked down at the medicine stickers lying next to his feet, and his heart welled up in an indescribable feeling.

Soon after Claire arrived home, Sheldon came back.

He was neatly dressed, and no one could tell that he had just been in a fight, but he wobbled a little in his walk.

On weekends, there were no cla.s.ses.

Claire was woken up by her phone early in the morning.

An email arrived with a ding.

She opened it and glanced at it. It was exactly the same as those she received last week, so she clicked on the delete b.u.t.ton.

But she couldn’t fall asleep anymore after this. She simply got up and went downstairs.

On the first floor, Evans Taylor walked into the hall with a cane. The sun was scorching outside, and he panted with heat. He sat on the sofa and looked around.

There was no one in the house.

He was wondering about it when he heard footsteps coming from behind him, and he turned his head to look at the persom.

Claire was coming down from the second floor.

Evans was stunned for a moment and then waved to her. “Girl, pour me a gla.s.s of water. Hurry up.”

Claire didn’t respond, and walked into the kitchen in slippers. She brewed a cup of cold tea, and brought it to Evans.

Evans took two sips.

The tea was well-brewed, not light or astringent.

The little girl was not bad.

Evans put down the teacup, and looked at Claire. He asked her. “Which servant’s daughter are you? Why didn’t I see you before?”

According to Phoebe’s description, Claire in Evans’ imagination should be a little thug with a wild hairstyle and heavy makeup.

But the girl in front of him was dressed in neat pajamas, with pitch-black hair draped over her shoulders. She had a pretty face, delicate features, and bright eyes.

She was standing there quietly, with a clean and clear temperament.