The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 359

Who did Amelia think she was, anyway? What right did she have to stand beside Citrine? She didn’t deserve it—not even close.

Citrine was everything: talented, brilliant, almost untouchable. And Amelia? She was nothing—a nobody who needed Citrine for everything.

From the shadowy corner of the room, Alicia glared daggers at Amelia, her gaze sharp and venomous, as if she might leap forward and tear her apart at any moment.

Citrine had made a special trip to the set today, just to check on Amelia. While Amelia filmed her scenes, Citrine watched from the sidelines, her attention unwavering, her smile appearing now and then.

Alicia drank in the scene from her hiding place, watching like a rat lurking in the sewers, desperate for a glimpse of Citrine but too scared to show her face.

The role Alicia had managed to land in this production was a small one—a minor supporting part, barely any lines in the early episodes. She’d planned to leave set today, but the moment she saw Citrine, she changed her mind.

It had been a long time since she last saw her. Ever since Citrine had rescued her on the set of Siren’s Whisper, Alicia couldn’t stop dreaming about their childhood together.

Back then, they’d been each other’s closest friends.

Now, it seemed Citrine’s best friend was Amelia—that useless nobody.

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A few days later, disaster struck the set.

Amelia was filming a wire stunt, suspended high above the stage, when suddenly the cable snapped. She plummeted straight down.

The crew rushed her to the hospital.

As soon as Citrine heard, she dropped everything at school and sped to the ER.

“I doubt this was an accident,” Citrine said quietly, a shadow crossing her eyes.

She hadn’t been on set, but she knew just how seriously this production took safety. Every prop, every rig, was checked and rechecked before any actor ever set foot on stage.

With that in mind, Citrine immediately asked someone to bring her a laptop. Within moments, she was sitting at Amelia’s hospital bedside, hacking into the studio’s security footage with practiced ease.

The staff member watched in astonishment. “Obsidian, you’re a hacker, too?”

Citrine shot her a glance. “Just a hobby.”

She pulled up the surveillance video.

The feed from the day before the accident looked normal; nothing out of place. But then, just before Amelia’s wire stunt, the camera caught a girl in a hoodie slipping onto the empty set during the lunch break. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then quickly pulled a razor blade from her pocket and made several careful cuts on the cable.