The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 541

At that moment, a girl suddenly stepped forward, her gaze burning with hope and anxiety as she looked at Citrine. In a tentative voice, she asked, “President Carmichael, do you really think we can bring Dick to justice?”

Citrine’s eyes lifted, and she was the first to notice the burn mark on the girl’s chest—a round scar, unmistakably from a cigarette. She averted her gaze, her expression solemn as she replied, “Absolutely. We will.”

With those words from Citrine, a sense of confidence bloomed among the gathered girls. The fear and worry that had gripped them when they first arrived began to fade, replaced by renewed determination.

From the back of the room, a middle-aged woman called out, her eyes shining with anticipation. “President Carmichael, when can we begin to clear the air?” Her voice trembled with urgency.

Citrine turned toward the sound. The woman stood there, face earnest, her husband at her side gripping her hand just as tightly, both of them radiating the same desperate hope.

Seeing them, a shadow flickered across Citrine’s expression. She scanned the area around them, searching for any sign of their daughter, but found nothing.

She quickly composed herself and answered gently, “We can start whenever you’re ready.”

The girls urged her on in unison. “Then let’s begin, President Carmichael.”

“Yes, let’s get started.”

“I can’t wait to see that monster finally pay for what he’s done.”

Their faces, a mixture of hope and pain, moved Citrine deeply.

Turning to the assembled reporters, she announced, “Please, set up your cameras and get ready for the interviews. This is the story the world needs to see.”

The journalists nodded in agreement. “Yes, President Carmichael.”

As the equipment was arranged, Citrine added, “You can film the interviews, but everyone’s faces must be blurred, and the girls’ identities protected.”

“We’re here to accuse Dick,” the father began, voice trembling. “Three years ago, our daughter was taking piano lessons at a music academy owned by Dick’s company. He started showing up there more and more. Not long after, our daughter told us she didn’t want to take lessons anymore. We didn’t listen. On the last day, she called to say Dick wanted to show her some special piano techniques and that she’d be home late.”

“She never came back. The next day, the news broke—our daughter had jumped into the sea.”

“It’s our fault. We failed her. Dick is a criminal, but so are we.”

One by one, the other victims stepped forward to share their stories. Those who couldn’t be there in person sent in their testimony online.

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When it was over, the reporters packed up and left. The girls drifted out in small groups, some clinging to each other for support.

Only one person lingered, watching Citrine for a long moment before finally walking over.