The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 457

When Sawyer returned home, he fell gravely ill. His fever soared to 103 degrees, and he slipped into a deep, unresponsive sleep.

By the time Norton Iverson got home from work, Sawyer was already unconscious. He didn’t dare waste a second—he rushed him straight to the hospital.

Sawyer tumbled into a nightmare, trapped in a feverish haze, desperately fighting to claw his way back to reality.

Suddenly, the dream sharpened into focus.

A girl, hair tangled and wild, was tied to a hospital bed. Her helpless sobs clawed at the air, raw and jagged. Her eyes, red and swollen, streamed with tears—and even flecks of blood.

She stared at him, pleading. “Daddy, help me. Please don’t let them take my kidney.”

Her frail, sickly face—so pale it was almost translucent—slowly overlapped with the real-life image of that cool, proud girl he knew.

Citrine.

Sawyer froze. Who would want to hurt Citrine? Just as he braced himself to rescue her from the operating table, he heard his own voice echo through the dream:

“Be good, Citrine. If you save Jeanette, I promise I’ll treat you well from now on.”

Dream-Sawyer stood there, numb, watching Citrine on the hospital bed. Then he turned to the man beside him, speaking with a heavy, deliberate tone. “Theo, let the doctors begin. Once Citrine’s kidney is transplanted to Jeanette, Jeanette will be healthy again. You two can finally start your family.”

Sawyer recoiled—he couldn’t believe those callous words had come from his own mouth.

And why, in this nightmare, did he even know Theo? How was Theo involved with Jeanette?

Before he could make sense of it, a raw, anguished scream tore through the dream.

The girl’s voice was hoarse with desperation:

“Dad, how can you do this to me? If Jeanette is your daughter, then what am I? You promised you’d always protect me—so why are you hurting me with him?”

“Theo, the biggest mistake of my life was ever meeting you—was ever agreeing to date you.”

The doctor stared after them, bewildered, then shook his head and muttered, “Unbelievable. Their other daughter is barely hanging on, and they don’t even ask about her. That poor girl.”

Sawyer watched his dream-self with growing fury—he was shaking, wanting nothing more than to punch himself in the face, but he was powerless to touch anything.

He followed them to Jeanette’s hospital room, where he saw himself and Theo hovering over Jeanette, fussing over her every need, staying by her side until she made a full recovery.

All the while, they never once set foot in Citrine’s room.

Sawyer couldn’t understand: how could he be so heartless in this world? Why was he so cruel?

He was desperate to know what had become of Citrine. Maybe his will was strong enough, because suddenly, his awareness slipped into Citrine’s hospital room.

What he saw chilled him to the bone.

Citrine was deathly pale, barely clinging to life. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, her surgical wound still oozing fresh blood. For a scrap of bread and a sip of water on the table, she forced herself to roll off the bed and, biting back cries of pain, dragged herself inch by inch across the cold floor.