The Imposter Bride (Natalia and Magnus)

Chapter 570

The woman's cover was blown, but instead of turning on her heel to flee, her fingers curled into claws, and without hesitation, she lunged for Jonas’ throat.

"Damn, that's vicious!" Jonas’ eyes hardened as he rolled away from her ambush, leaped from the bedside, and rose to his feet, grappling with the woman.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

Though her moves were ruthless, Jonas was consistently one step ahead, deftly countering each one. And the more he fought, the more astonished he became. Many of these moves were ones he had developed himself.

Back in the day at the training camp, the drill instructor, Richard, had pushed everyone to master their own signature moves. Jonas was the most adept, and had crafted techniques much more brutal than the average Joe's. These signature moves bore his unique touch, and he had never taught them to anyone but one person in the world!

That was his girl, Elisea. He had taught her to protect herself, but...

The thought sent Jonas’ heart into turmoil, and he demanded of the mysterious woman, who kept striking at him relentlessly, "Who are you?!"

The woman's eyes were icy, completely ignoring Jonas’ question. Her movements grew even swifter, her whole being brimming with a bloodthirsty intent.

Jonas steadied his mind. "Not talking, huh? Fine, let's see who you really are!"

With that, Jonas intensified his offense, cornering the would-be assassin near the French windows. As they closed in, a familiar scent hit Jonas’ nose, throwing the calm he had just regained back into chaos.

No, it can't be! With trembling hands, Jonas reached for the mask covering the woman's face, his eyes welling up with emotion.

Cornered, the woman glared at Jonas with such fury that, if looks could kill, Jonas would have been sliced a thousand times over.

The mask slowly fell, revealing a petite and delicate face. Her eyes were shining like stars in the night sky, stunning yet filled with defiance and grievance. Her skin was as smooth as cream, slightly flushed from the exertion.

"Ellie!" Jonas recoiled in shock, barely managing to utter the girl's name. That face, etched deep into his very bones, was unmistakable!

The woman, now unmasked, was visibly startled and glared at Jonas. Seizing the moment of his shock, she kicked at Jonas’ most vulnerable spot and, without a moment's hesitation, crashed through the French windows.

"Crash!" The glass shattered on impact, spraying shards everywhere with a terrifying noise.

The girl leaped from the upper floor in the wake of the broken glass, rolling on the ground to lessen the impact, then sprinted a few steps and vaulted over the high wall, quickly disappearing into the vast night.

All this happened in the blink of an eye. By the time Jonas unhesitatingly followed her jump from the upper floor, she was gone. The villa's alarms blared, and the security team swarmed in, asking Jonas with concern, "Mr. Jonas, what happened?"

"Back off, all of you!" Jonas angrily waved away the guards and pointed to his room's window. "Leave that window be. No more glass from now on! And why didn't we have tempered glass in the first place? Don't you know these shards could cut someone?!"

The guards hung their heads, feeling unjustly blamed. The villa had come with these fixtures; they had no say in the choice of glass.

Jonas stormed around the courtyard and immediately made a call, "Tiger, get up and help me check the surveillance footage!" Saying this, he headed towards the villa's control room.

He needed to confirm if the girl was indeed Ellie. Maybe he was dreaming, seeing her face in place of someone else’s.

The man Jonas called was Brendan, nicknamed Tiger, a steady and dependable assistant to Jonas, proficient in firearms and hand-to-hand combat. He knew all of Jonas’ secrets, having been on a covert mission to Country C with him three years ago.

Brendan followed Jonas to the control room and pulled up the surveillance footage.

Jonas sat in front of the computer, watching the small figure on the screen agilely climb the wall and then cautiously make her way toward his bedroom. That silhouette couldn't be mistaken; it was her, the girl Jonas had spent three years searching for — Elisea!

But why would she come back to kill him? "Bang!"

He slammed his hand on the table, startling Brendan, who quickly offered, "Mr. Jonas, this was my oversight; I'll make sure our security is tighter from now on!"

However, Jonas furrowed his brow and pointed to the distance between the wall and his bedroom. "Once it's daylight, take that wall down! It's too far to swing from the wall to my bedroom top; one could easily fall."

Brendan could hardly believe his ears and thought he had misheard. B Jonas continued paietihfg atthe rope Bligehad taken in the surveillance video. "Here, here, and there, add anti-slip tiles. No room for error.’ Please read the original content at .

"And my French windows, no more glass, especially not this shoddy kind. Absolutely unacceptable!"

Jonas issued orders while Brendan's mouth twitched in disbelief. Bren thought oes ne bale loSt his mind Bin the night's events, for his words sounded like an open invitation for further assassination attempts! Please read the original content at .

Jonas was oblivious to the shock in Brendan's eyes. He was too caught up in his own elation, unsure how to handle his excitement. That brief glimpse had confirmed the presence of his beloved. It wasn't a dream; she had come!

When the figure he'd been dreaming of appeared before him, Jonas felt nothing but sheer joy. That kick of hers had been delivered with no restraint!

Luckily, he had been fast enough to react, or his future happiness would have been in serious jeopardy. She didn't remember him; she only saw him as an enemy.

Asmile played on Jonas' lips. She was still as enchanting as ever. But why did she come to kill him? Could it be because he had erased her memory and then... No, that wasn't right!

Jonas furrowed his brow in deep thought. The ferocity in Elisea's eyes when she lunged at him was unmistakably genuine, not a trace of pretense. It was clear as day she was out for blood—his blood.

Moreover, the way she looked at him was as if he were a complete Mm stranger. She dignisteiBever the FaIy reat ibker of recognition, suggesting that the memories of their past hadn't resurfaced at all. Please read the original content at .

But what had she gone through in all these years? What kind of skeletons did she have in her closet that were so unspeakable?