The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 285

Travis looked at Citrine with a pitiful expression, then glanced over at the innocent, wide-eyed cat. He pressed his lips together, resigned.

“I’ll make her apologize to you,” Citrine said, trying not to laugh at how both amused and sympathetic she felt.

After all, even pets had to take responsibility for their mischief.

Putting on her sternest face, Citrine lowered her voice. “Happy, come here.”

The little cat heard Citrine’s call and immediately perked up, her tail twitching with excitement. She bounded onto Citrine’s lap, rubbing her soft, furry head insistently against Citrine’s arms.

Citrine couldn’t help but give Happy’s fluffy face a gentle—but firm—squeeze. “You can’t just bully my brother like that. Go apologize to him.”

Everyone in the room assumed Citrine was just playing along, not really expecting the cat to understand a word. After all, it was just a cat—how could it possibly know what was being said?

But the moment Citrine gave the order, Happy let out a soft meow, hopped onto the coffee table, and trotted straight over to Travis.

Convinced she was about to scratch him again, Travis reflexively shielded his face with his hands.

When nothing happened, he slowly peeked out from behind his fingers.

The little Maine Coon sat up on the table, tilting her head before raising one paw and folding it in an unmistakable “sorry” gesture—a move so adorable and absurd that Travis’s irritation evaporated instantly.

He couldn’t help bursting out with a laugh. “Alright, alright. Seeing as you know you were wrong, I’ll let it slide this time.”

Satisfied, Happy dropped her paw, gave her big tail a flick, and strutted back to settle on Citrine’s lap.

“That cat’s got some magic in her—she actually understands what you’re saying,” Weston muttered, still surprised by the cat’s uncanny intelligence.

Citrine hugged Happy close, issuing a warning: “No more scratching people, understood?”

Happy: “Meow!”

Weston: “...”

Raymond: “...”

When the well-wishes finally died down, he piped up, “Grandpa, Uncle, Aunt, Dad—am I invisible over here?”

“Can’t see you at all,” someone replied with a straight face.

“If you can get the top score, maybe we’ll shine a flashlight on you next time.”

Travis: “...”

Clearly, Citrine was the family jewel. He, on the other hand, was just a weed no one noticed.

But then he remembered—even the family cat outranked him. Somehow, that made things a little easier to accept.

The SAT took two full days. When Citrine walked out of the test center on the second afternoon, she felt as if the tightly wound string in her mind had finally snapped loose.

She knew, deep down, that her life from now on was destined to be bright and beautiful.

By late June, the SAT results were released.