The Princess and the Pauper (Arabella)

Chapter 2063

Arabella had Yolanda in a chokehold, the blade of her switchblade glinting ominously close to her heart. "Did | ask for your

opinion?"

Yolanda's airway constricted under Arabella's grip, leaving her voiceless and gasping for air.

With Yolanda as her shield, Arabella started to back away slowly. One of the goons, sharp as a tack, saw his chance. Arabella's

hands were both in front of Yolanda—just one good shot to her hands, and Yolanda would be free!

With this in mind, he squeezed the trigger, but Arabella was quick. She dodged, and in a vicious move, slashed Yolanda's arm with

the knife.

"Don't test my patience," Arabella warned, her tone icy.

Enraged and in pain, Yolanda lashed out at the gunman. "Can't you shoot straight? You trying to getkilled?"

The gunman hung his head in shame. He hadn't expected Arabella to react so quickly.

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"The woman's in the car," another minion reported.

"The keys," Arabella demanded.

The goon threw the keys to Arabella, who caught them effortlessly. She slammed Yolanda against the car's hood, the knife sinking

into her left thigh—a revenge for Mya.

Yolanda screamed, her body arching in agony.

Arabella hopped into the car. She put it in reverse, peeling back with such force that her henchmen couldn't get a clear shot at her

without risking hitting Yolanda.

It wasn't until Arabella had created a safe distance and swung the car around that Yolanda was flung from the hood.

The goons rushed to help her up. After all, Yolanda hadn't paid them their final installment yet; they didn't want her dying on them

50 soon.

"What are you all waiting for? Get that bitch!" Yolanda screamed, her anger boiling over.

Several minions hopped into their cars and gave chase.

Bullets pelted Arabella's ride.

In the back seat, Edith, barely conscious, forced her eyes open. She saw Arabella wipe a trickle of blood from her lips, her knuckles

white and strained against the steering wheel.

Tears blurred Edith's vision. She felt responsible for Arabella's plight.

Anyone else would've abandoned her to save themselves.

But Arabella hadn't forgotten her. Despite her own wounds, she was still determined to take her maid with her.

Out on the open wasteland, Arabella's car led the chase, with seven or eight white cars in relentless pursuit, bullets tagging the

body of her car.

A violent cough shook Arabella, and she spat out another mouthful of blood.

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Pain tore through her nerves and sanity, Arabella's car swerved, slowing from its initial breakneck speed.

Everyone knew she was on her last legs.

They floored the gas pedal, bullets raining even more furiously onto Arabella's silver car.

On the outskirts of the city, bordering Summerfield, another cavalry arrived. A fleet of black cars, twenty strong, loyally followed

the lead Bugatti Veyron.

Behind the wheel of the Bugatti sat a man of regal coldness.

He noticed an unfamiliar silver car approaching, driven by a girl whose driving was less sure-footed than usual, her car wobbling.

Was she injured?

Behind her, a pack of white cars was giving chase.

Romeo immediately maneuvered his Bugatti to shield the girl's car, his and his men's vehicles forming a protective barricade.