The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 365

Sebastian was no longer the man he used to be. It was as if he had lost his memory, which meant all of Citrine’s efforts up to now had been for nothing.

She looked at Sebastian and, quite suddenly, laughed.

“We’re not enemies,” she said lightly. “As far as I’m concerned, I didn’t see a thing just now.”

“You’re clever,” Sebastian replied, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

He rose from the couch with deliberate slowness, closing the distance between them one measured step at a time until he was standing right in front of her.

Citrine was barely five-foot-five; Sebastian towered over her, close to six-foot-three. With him standing so near, he seemed to block out the world, and she had to tilt her head back just to meet his gaze.

She held his eyes, deliberately softening her tone. “Maybe you thought I was your enemy a minute ago, but now that we’ve cleared things up, maybe we could be friends.”

“Friends?” Sebastian’s expression twisted as if he’d just heard the punchline to a joke, and he let out a low, humorless laugh.

The amusement vanished as quickly as it came. His eyes turned cold, dark, and unflinching as he stared her down. “A little girl who’s barely out of high school wants to be my friend? What makes you think you’re worthy?”

Citrine smiled, unruffled. “Of course I am. Otherwise, why would our company be invited to tonight’s Shadow Syndicate gathering?”

At the mention of the Shadow Syndicate, Sebastian paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “You know about the Shadow Syndicate?”

She chuckled. “Not only do I know about them, I also know you’re their leader—the very same man who runs Stellaris Group.”

His surprise deepened, mingling now with curiosity. “How did you find that out?”

She shrugged, teasing, “That’s my secret.”

Sebastian didn’t seem annoyed by her evasiveness—in fact, he pressed further. “Who are you, really?” It wasn’t just that she knew about the Shadow Syndicate; what truly unsettled him was that she knew his true identity.

She stared, frozen, at the water—if you could even call it that. The pool was filled with liquid the color of blood. Or maybe it was blood.

Beneath the surface, fish darted to and fro—dozens of them, slicing through the crimson water, circling in the densest patches.

Her face went pale. “Piranhas,” she whispered.

She’d read about them in books before—small, but vicious, with a taste for flesh and an uncanny sensitivity to the scent of humans.

Never in her life had Citrine imagined someone would actually keep piranhas in their swimming pool.

“Scared?” Sebastian asked, a hint of delight in his voice as he watched her blanch.

They stood at the very edge—just a single step from the blood-red water.