The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 385

Ever since Hilda lost her daughter, every single day had felt like an ordeal she was forced to endure.

Over the years, she’d torn Crestwood apart, searching every corner, yet not even a trace of her daughter had surfaced.

So when Monica spoke now, Hilda’s first reaction was fear.

She’d been disappointed so many times already—each rumor, every glimmer of hope, had dissolved into nothing. Again and again, hope only led to heartbreak.

Monica spoke tentatively. “Aunt Hilda, that girl… she really looks like you.”

Hilda’s face had flickered with a brief spark of hope, but at Monica’s words, her eyes darkened. “Looks mean nothing,” she said flatly.

Too many times she’d seen girls who bore some resemblance to her, only for each meeting to end in disappointment.

“But Aunt Hilda, she’s nothing like the others we’ve found before,” Monica insisted. “Her eyes, her features—they’re almost identical to yours. If you’d just see her—”

Before Monica could finish, Hilda’s patience snapped. “That’s enough. Both of you—get out.”

Monica had wanted to press on, but seeing Hilda’s stormy expression—so close to boiling over—she bit her tongue.

Her aunt’s lost daughter was the family’s deepest wound, and Hilda’s most sensitive spot. Monica understood that pushing any further would only reopen old pain.

She pressed her lips together, then helped Wade up from the floor, and together they left.

As they emerged from the basement, they finally escaped that suffocating sense of dread.

Monica and Wade both let out long sighs of relief.

Wade, wincing from his injuries, turned to Monica, his eyes searching. “Monica, what you said back there—did you mean it?”

Monica rolled her eyes again, this time with genuine exasperation. “Serves you right. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have stuck up for you just now. Maybe she should’ve finished the job.”

She gave him a playful shove. “Now get out of here and go rest.”

——

A month later, the Titan Showdown National Finals were held in Crestwood.

The competition was fierce—high stakes, a hefty cash prize, and every team was a champion from their own state. The excitement was palpable.

Yet, in the midst of the chaos, Quentin and his team lounged around their section of the arena, munching on chips and cracking jokes, completely at ease.

One of his teammates massaged his shoulders, showering him with praise. “Quentin, with you on our squad, this is in the bag. When it comes to esports, nobody’s ever been a match for you—not since we were kids.”