The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 236

Raymond and the Carmichael family exchanged brief glances but said nothing more. Without another word, they left the hospital room.

Once outside, the Carmichaels’ faces were clouded with worry—none of them looked pleased, and tension hung in the air.

Raymond cast a glance at Manley, then suddenly spoke up. “Manley, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but from now on I want you to stay away from my daughter.”

“And why should I?” Manley shot back, lifting his eyes defiantly.

“Because I’m Citrine’s father,” Raymond replied coldly, his voice edged with warning.

A humorless laugh escaped Manley as his hands balled into fists. “Raymond, I’m her Uncle Manley. I have every right to see her. You don’t get to decide that for me.”

There was no way he’d keep his distance from Citrine. Not now, not ever.

Raymond’s eyes hardened. “If it weren’t for Citrine, I would’ve warned you long ago. I don’t care what your intentions are with my daughter, but I won’t allow even a hint of danger near her.”

Before Citrine came into his life, Raymond hadn’t cared much about Manley. But with her there, Manley suddenly seemed like a threat he couldn’t ignore.

He still remembered, clear as day, what Manley had said to him years ago after the accident. The memory sent a chill down his spine.

Back then, he and Manley had fought viciously for control of the Carmichael Group. The rivalry was ruthless, and neither had planned to back down.

It wasn’t until Manley’s car accident—an accident that left him unable to walk—that the battle for succession finally ended, if only on the surface.

After the accident, Manley rarely left the house. Rumor had it he’d never recovered, that he’d lost his drive along with his mobility. But Raymond knew better. Even after losing the use of his legs, Manley never gave up his ambition for the Carmichael legacy.

He worked in secret, building up his own sphere of influence. His efforts to undermine the Carmichael Group continued, relentless as ever.

The upper crust whispered that Raymond himself had orchestrated the accident, desperate to eliminate his fiercest rival. Manley certainly believed it.

Noticing the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead, he went to the bathroom, dampened a towel, and brought it back to wipe her face.

The moment he left the room, Citrine’s eyes fluttered open—clear, alert, and entirely awake.

She realized Raymond must have kept watch all night. Wanting to test whether he truly cared, she’d pretended not to hear him when he called from the hallway.

If he found out, he’d probably think she was being difficult on purpose.

The thought made her sigh softly as she closed her eyes again.

A few minutes later, she felt something warm and damp pressed gently against her forehead, making her heart jolt with surprise.

Did he really not see her as a monster?