The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 312

A month and a half ago, Clifford had turned his house upside down, searching every nook and cranny until he finally found those thick stacks of practice exams and notes.

The moment he flipped them open, his eyes burned with tears.

He could recognize Citrine’s handwriting anywhere. Clifford could tell that every single page—half a meter high—had been painstakingly written by her, every stroke of the pen her own. She’d even highlighted the tricky topics, the common pitfalls, and marked out the most important concepts, making everything crystal clear.

After that, Clifford locked himself in his room, eyes red and swollen from crying. He carefully wiped every page clean, arranging the notes and exercises neatly on his desk as if they were priceless treasures.

For the next month and a half, Clifford barely left his room except for a single meal each day. The rest of the time he spent buried in those notes, working through the problems, reading and rereading every word she’d written.

When the six weeks were up, he sat the entrance exam for Primus Academy. Thanks to Citrine’s notes, he passed.

But he didn’t go. He told himself he didn’t deserve it.

Now, Clifford lay motionless on the ground. Travis glanced over, waved his hand, and signaled the others to stop.

The private room reeked of blood, the stench thick and nauseating. Travis turned to his sister, his voice gentle. “Let’s get out of here, Citrine. This place is a dump. Let’s go somewhere better.”

“Sure,” Citrine replied, flashing him a sweet, untroubled smile.

She stood up and walked toward the door.

Just as she reached the threshold, something yanked her pant leg, holding her back with desperate strength.

Citrine looked down, her face unreadable. There was a streak of blood across the fabric where she’d been grabbed. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Gross,” she muttered. “These are brand new pants.”

Clifford froze, his hand still clutching her leg, but suddenly all the strength drained from his grip.

Travis just smiled, clearly enjoying himself. “If Citrine had stayed by your side, maybe you’d be the one heading to Havencrest now, and I’d be stuck repeating a year at the local tech college. But she’s gone, Clifford. You and your family lost her. That’s on you. You’ll regret it for the rest of your lives.”

Clifford’s voice was a ragged growl, blood bubbling on his lips. “You… you stole my sister from me.”

He kept repeating it, as if the words themselves were all he had left. “Citrine is my sister.”

Travis’s face darkened. In a flash, he slammed his foot into Clifford’s chest.

“No, Clifford. You’re the one who took my sister away. The Iversons took her in, but never treated her right. And you—her own brother—took all her kindness for granted, hurt her again and again.”

Still seething, Travis stomped on Clifford’s face.

“If it hadn’t been for you, I could’ve grown up with Citrine. And if I’d been the one by her side, I swear, I would’ve protected her with my life. No one would’ve dared hurt her.”