The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 575

The nurse nearby had caught the tail end of Park’s conversation, and she looked at him in surprise. “Wait, you know our director?”

Park hesitated, glancing in the direction Citrine had gone, and ventured, “Your director? You mean Citrine Carmichael—President Carmichael?”

The nurse nodded. “That’s right.”

Park’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Did I hear that right? You’re saying she’s the director of your research center?”

Another nod from the nurse. “Yep, that’s her.”

She grinned. “Pretty impressive, isn’t she? Beautiful and tough as nails.”

Park was still reeling, but managed a dazed nod.

The nurse’s curiosity perked up. “So, you already knew her last name was Carmichael. Are you two acquaintances?”

Park gave a weak laugh, nodding again. “Who doesn’t know her? Chairwoman of CICI Group, the rising star of Crestwood—her reputation precedes her.”

The nurse beamed with pride. “That’s our director for you—she’s famous for a reason.” Every word radiated admiration for her boss.

Park glanced at the nurse, his confusion mounting. “Do you have any idea what President Carmichael was doing just now, heading off with that group?”

The nurse answered without missing a beat, “She’s performing surgery on a flu patient. The patient’s got severe underlying conditions, and none of the other specialists dared attempt it, so our director had to take the lead herself.”

Park felt like he’d stumbled across something extraordinary. He stared at the nurse in disbelief. “Your director is a surgeon?”

Without hesitation, Citrine walked over.

“President Atkinson, is everything alright?”

Park had been sitting in the waiting room for hours. These past few days, between the constant worry and sleepless nights caring for his son, he hadn’t had a proper rest in days. He’d dozed off without realizing it, only to be startled awake by Citrine’s voice.

He never imagined that the first thing he’d see upon opening his eyes would be Citrine herself. He jumped, nearly dropping the sleeping child in his arms.

“Pr—President Carmichael,” he stammered.

Citrine gave him a once-over. “President Atkinson, what are you doing here? Are you unwell?”