The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 534

“She’s already a little seductress at her age. No wonder her parents are such lowlifes.”

“I have no clue how someone like her ever got into an Ivy League school, let alone became a CEO.”

“Absolutely disgusting. If I had a daughter like that, I’d rather strangle her myself.”

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Citrine scrolled through a handful of the comments, expression unchanged. After a moment, she handed the phone back to Mr. Shaw.

“Thank you, Mr. Shaw,” she said politely.

“N-no problem.” Mr. Shaw had expected her to break down after reading the online vitriol, but Citrine remained as composed as ever, as if none of it even registered.

Even Hawley couldn’t help but respect her self-control. Most kids would have fallen apart—facing this at her age and keeping her cool? With that kind of grit, it was no wonder she’d achieved so much already.

Still, Hawley didn’t believe the rumors for a second. He hesitated, then spoke up: “President Carmichael, I’m sure what’s online isn’t true. Maybe you should clear things up for everyone?”

Just then, a brash voice cut through the room: “It’s true.”

“I had the video analyzed—no sign of editing.”

Quentin strode in, still in his tracksuit, radiating self-assured swagger. He marched straight toward Citrine.

“That’s Mr. Aldridge.”

“What’s he doing here?”

A murmur swept the room as people recognized him.

Quentin pushed past the crowd, stopping right in front of Citrine, jabbing a finger at her face. “Citrine Carmichael, you had it coming after what you did to Kali. Now your dirty laundry’s all over social media—how does it feel to be famous for all the wrong reasons?”

Wade and Monica exchanged glances, realization dawning. In perfect unison, they blurted, “So it really was Kali behind this.”

“So what if I did? Someone’s got to.”

Her dismissive tone only stoked his anger. “Citrine Carmichael, you’re the one who started chasing after men at your age, and you’re calling me names?”

Before he could finish, Wade stormed over and punched Quentin hard in the face.

“Who the hell do you think you are, slandering her? I’ll shut you up for good.”

“Oh, you want to fight?” Quentin spat blood, recognized his opponent, and swung right back.

Amid the scuffle, Monica rushed to Citrine’s side, voice urgent. “Citrine, tell me the video’s fake. Please.”

Everyone turned, eyes fixed on Citrine, waiting for her to respond.

She was silent for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet and even. “It’s real.”