The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 259

Clifford stared at Jeanette, eyes rimmed red. “That’s impossible.”

His mind rushed back to the memory of waking up alone in that room. Desperation edged his voice. “When I first came to, you were the only one there. Later, the housekeeper told me you’d looked after me the whole day and night. And wasn’t Citrine off at the amusement park back then? There’s no way it was her.”

“Is it really impossible, or do you just refuse to face the truth?” Jeanette rolled her eyes, letting out a short, mocking laugh. “Clifford, you Iversons are all so hopelessly naïve. Have you ever stopped to think? I was always the one being waited on in our house—how would I ever take care of someone else?”

Clifford’s face drained of color.

Jeanette ignored him, her smirk growing colder. “And those housekeepers? They’re paid by my mother, Clifford. Do you really think they’d dare to contradict her?”

She paused, a bitter amusement flickering in her eyes. “As for Citrine, she was never at the amusement park. In fact, she’s probably never set foot in one her whole life.” Jeanette let out a soft, delighted laugh. “Guess where she really was?”

Clifford frowned. “Where?”

“That poor thing took care of you for twenty-four hours straight. Her body just gave out—she collapsed in her bed and lay there for two whole days before anyone even noticed. It wasn’t until Sawyer came home and found her that she was rushed to the hospital. She almost died, you know.” Jeanette’s voice brimmed with perverse satisfaction as she recounted Citrine’s childhood misery.

“How can you be so cruel?” Clifford stared at Jeanette in disbelief, his whole body going cold and rigid.

He remembered that episode all too well—Citrine being rushed to the hospital in a panic. The family had insisted she’d gotten sick from playing outside and catching a chill.

Back then, he’d thought Citrine was just being dramatic. When he visited her in the hospital, he’d even scolded her, saying she deserved it.

What a wretched person he’d been.

He knew Jeanette was telling the truth. She’d always loved expensive things, never would’ve given him something cheap, and she was far too delicate to ever endure the pain of donating blood.

So it had all been Citrine—all of it. Clifford felt ice creeping through his veins.

God, what had he done all these years?

Citrine had argued with him about the gifts and the blood donation more than once. And at the time, how had he treated her?

Clifford almost wished he could forget.