The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 138

Laird and Gideon, standing behind Clifford, both turned their eyes to Citrine, wearing the same smug, "Just as we thought" expressions.

Clifford's original plan had been to teach the brat a lesson, but remembering he had wrongly accused her earlier, he felt a rare pang of conscience. Maybe he'd let her off easy—just this once.

With an impatient wave, Clifford thrust his hand out toward Citrine. "Alright, hand it over," he snapped.

"Huh?" Citrine blinked, momentarily lost.

"Don't play dumb. You came here to make peace, didn't you?" Before she could react, Clifford snatched the plastic bag from her hands and started passing bottles to the guys behind him.

"I came to make peace? In your dreams." The realization hit her all at once, and rage flooded her veins. She couldn't hold back a curse. "As if! Who do you think you are?"

"This isn't for you. If you want water, go buy your own." Citrine yanked the bag right out of Clifford's hands and grabbed the bottles back from Laird and Gideon. "Or what, is the mighty second son of the Iverson family so broke he has to steal from me?"

She shoved Clifford aside, and he staggered, nearly falling before the guys behind him caught him. That was enough to set him off. "What the hell is your problem, Citrine? I'm trying to give you a way out, and you throw it back in my face?"

He hadn't seen her in a while and foolishly thought she might've mellowed out. Clearly, she was even more unruly than before.

Laird shot her a sneer. "Drop the act, Citrine. You came here just to suck up to Clifford. Who else would you be here for?"

Clifford didn't say a word, but it was obvious he agreed.

But Citrine wasn't intimidated. She poked her head out from behind Travis, meeting Clifford's furious glare with calm defiance. "I'm talking about you. If you don't believe me, go find a mirror—see for yourself if you don't look like a mad dog right now."

"You—!" Clifford was so angry he could barely speak.

What really stung, though, was hearing Citrine call someone else "brother." The word rattled around in his brain, pushing aside his anger over the "mad dog" insult. He stared at her, unable to get the image out of his mind. "Why did you call him ‘brother'?"

Clifford felt a wave of self-loathing. He used to hate when Citrine called him that—he'd even threatened her, telling her not to call him "brother" in public. But she'd never listened, always chasing after him, calling "brother, brother" without a care.

Only now did Clifford realize that ever since Citrine had her falling-out with the family, she hadn't called him "brother" at all. Not once.