The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 221

There was a time abroad when someone had been willing to put down a billion dollars, desperate to acquire a single Vitaflux pill, and still came up empty-handed.

Money alone couldn’t buy this drug; anyone who managed to get their hands on it had to have extraordinary connections or access to exclusive channels.

Just this fact alone made the atmosphere in the room shift dramatically. The guests’ attitudes toward Citrine underwent a complete turnaround.

Even if they couldn’t win her favor, no one wanted to risk offending Ms. Carmichael. The resources and connections she possessed could mean the difference between life and death in a crisis.

Everyone present was wealthy and influential, and when Citrine announced she would be auctioning off the pill, excitement rippled through the crowd.

For some, this was a life-saving chance; a precious cure for a sick loved one. For others, it was the promise of longevity—something priceless to bring home to an aging parent or grandparent, even if their family was in perfect health.

No one was immune to temptation.

Under dozens of hopeful, burning gazes, Citrine parted her lips and spoke, “Starting bid: five hundred million.”

Vitaflux was legendary, nearly impossible to obtain, and no one dared haggle. In fact, no one even thought the price unreasonable. To them, the mere fact this miracle drug was being auctioned tonight made them feel like fortune’s favorite.

Citrine had barely finished her words before the first bid rang out.

“Ms. Carmichael, six hundred million,” called an elderly gentleman in a crisp suit, his hair silver at the temples.

“Six-fifty!” another voice chimed in.

“Seven hundred million.”

“Eight hundred million.”

The bids came one after another, voices overlapping, filling the hall with restless energy.

Citrine and Weston Carmichael, Raymond’s father, stood at the heart of the crowd, surrounded by eager faces and rising excitement.

By contrast, Elbert was left in a pocket of quiet, with only his grandchildren and Regina Carmichael for company.

But he couldn’t undermine his own granddaughter in public, so he forced himself to let her be.

“Apologize?” Elbert’s forced smile almost slipped off his face at Weston’s words.

A man of his age apologizing to someone so much younger—if word got out, he’d be a laughingstock.

“Weston, we’ve been friends for decades. At least give me a little dignity here,” Elbert tried, appealing to their long friendship.

Weston’s brow furrowed. He waved a hand dismissively. “If you’re not willing, then forget it.”

His expression turned cold.

To think Elbert expected to smooth things over with Citrine without so much as an apology—all for the sake of a miracle drug.

Weston had always admired Elbert for his straightforwardness, but tonight, seeing him like this, he realized how little that friendship meant when push came to shove.