The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 296

The smile at the corner of her mouth faded. “What’s she doing here?”

“Who?” Hastings followed her gaze, a flicker of suspicion in his voice. “You mean Citrine Carmichael?”

Kali nodded. “Yeah.”

Something seemed to cross her mind, and for a split second, a hint of malice glimmered across her face. She glanced at Hastings, trying to sound offhand. “By the way, with all these people going bare-faced, why is she the only one wearing makeup?”

Her eyes darted slyly. “Shouldn’t someone ask her to take it off?”

The mention of makeup instantly brought this morning’s incident to Hastings’s mind, and his expression soured.

He clenched his jaw before replying, “That is her bare face. She isn’t wearing makeup.”

Kali was momentarily stunned.

“Maybe I was mistaken,” she murmured, pressing her lips together. She glanced back at Citrine, and a wave of jealousy suddenly welled up inside her.

But with Hastings standing right beside her, she kept it hidden.

Hastings noticed Kali seemed less than fond of Citrine. “Do you know her?” he asked.

Kali hesitated, then put on a reluctant air. “Remember I told you about that girl at Havencrest who used to pester your classmate?”

Hastings’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean her, do you?”

Kali nodded. “That’s her.”

Hastings had never liked Citrine much to begin with, but now, hearing she’d once fought for the attention of his beloved sister Kali’s friend, his dislike for her hardened into outright contempt.

He set his jaw, promising, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she gets what’s coming to her.”

Kali instantly panicked and tried to wave him off. “No, Hastings, really—it’s my problem, you don’t need to get involved.”

Hastings scowled at her protest. “Come on, Kali. When have you ever been bullied and I didn’t stand up for you?”

Kali fell silent at that, and after chatting with Hastings a little longer, she finally left.

After eight minutes, Citrine was the first to stand. “Sir, push-ups completed.”

Everyone looked at her with envy; the first to finish always got to rest.

But Hastings wasn’t about to let her off so easily.

He glared, his tone harsh. “Why did you get up before reporting properly? Always eager to stand out, aren’t you? If you love the spotlight so much, do another five hundred.”

Citrine didn’t argue. She simply got back on the ground and started again.

She hadn’t followed protocol, so she accepted the punishment without complaint. No one else thought much of it.

But as the training went on, it became clear: the instructor was singling Citrine out, making excuses to punish her.

All afternoon, she outperformed everyone, yet she always got the harshest penalties.

When dinner rolled around, the other groups were dismissed, but Citrine was still out on the field, enduring extra drills.