The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 623

A moment ago, the little girl’s face was clouded with sorrow, but in the blink of an eye, something shifted—now her eyes glimmered with a trace of resentment.

How could a child so young swing between emotions so quickly, and harbor such complicated thoughts? The more Hilda watched her, the more uneasy she felt.

She kept a close eye on the girl’s expressions, searching for some clue, but before she could make sense of the sudden change, the child’s innocent, sing-song voice broke the silence.

“Mommy, since you’ve become a beautiful star, why can’t you take me with you?”

“I want to be a star too. Then I wouldn’t be cold anymore, or hurt so much.”

Her voice was soft and fragile, filled with desperate hope. For all its childishness, the words hit Hilda like a punch to the gut.

Suddenly, a man’s rough, drunken yelling shattered the quiet of the living room.

“What’s with all the noise? Shut your trap, or I swear I’ll toss you in the fryer!” His voice was harsh, thick with anger.

The little one curled up on the balcony flinched instinctively at the sound.

Her body was already half-numb from the cold, her stomach aching with hunger. Gritting her teeth, she summoned her courage and called out, “Please… I’m cold. I’m hungry.”

The man, half-gone with whiskey, grew even more irritated at Citrine’s plea.

“Well, well. You’re still not dead, you little brat.”

He hurled his bottle to the floor, the glass shattering with a violent crash. Citrine recoiled, trembling uncontrollably on the balcony.

Her eyes slowly lost their light. She knew what came next—another beating.

Burying her face in her knees, she wished time would slow down, or that—just this once—the man might have a change of heart and leave her be.

What Hilda saw made her blood run cold.

The child’s small body was covered in swollen bruises, angry welts, and old scars—injuries so severe they were painful even to look at.

Citrine’s face scrunched in pain as she gingerly touched her wounds, then let her worn sweater drop back into place.

At that moment, the silence was broken by the unmistakable rumble of her stomach. It growled again and again, echoing in the empty night.

She rubbed her belly and glanced around, her gaze landing on a strip of dried bacon hanging nearby.

She swallowed hard, dragged an old broken stool over, and climbed up to reach the meat.

Starvation trumped everything else. The moment she got her hands on it, she wasted no time, sinking her teeth into the salty bacon without a second thought.