The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 67

After Raymond finished his meal, Citrine moved to clear the table, but he quickly stopped her.

"Take it easy," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "Kids should act their age." The last thing Raymond wanted was to see her worn out.

With that, he shot Calvin a meaningful look, and Calvin immediately caught on. He stepped over and tidied up the table without complaint.

"Over here, too. And don't forget that spot—wipe it down," Raymond called out from his place on the bed, directing Calvin with a nod and a glance.

"Understood, Mr. Carmichael," Calvin replied, dutifully following orders.

Despite his compliance, Calvin couldn't resist tossing a few playful jabs back at Raymond as he cleaned, and soon the two were bickering good-naturedly.

Watching them banter, Citrine couldn't help but smile.

It wasn't until they finished that she remembered Raymond's illness. Her expression turned a little more serious.

She pulled a chair closer and reached out her hand toward him. "Let me see your hand for a second."

"Hmm?" Raymond looked at her, puzzled, but obediently placed his hand in hers.

To his surprise, Citrine placed her fingers on his wrist, feeling for his pulse.

"You know how to check a pulse?" Raymond's eyebrows shot up.

"A little," she replied softly.

Without another word, Citrine bent to her task, her gaze focused in concentration.

Raymond and Calvin exchanged a look—she certainly looked the part, with an air of quiet professionalism. Still, neither of them really believed a high schooler could diagnose anything serious.

After all, Raymond's illness had plagued him for over a decade. They'd seen every specialist there was—locally and abroad—yet no one had found a cure.

A couple of minutes passed, and Citrine finally let go of his hand.

Her face was grave, as if she'd really discovered something.

But then Citrine's next question made the color drain from his face, leaving him speechless.

"When the pain comes, does it feel like someone's stabbing straight into your chest with a knife?" Her eyes grew distant, as if remembering something cold and sharp herself.

"Yes," Raymond said, nodding emphatically.

"So, is there any way to treat it?" Calvin's voice was tense with hope as he fixed his gaze on Citrine.

Raymond's illness had haunted him for years. Calvin had read every book, consulted every expert, but nothing had ever worked. Raymond was his closest friend, and not being able to help him was a constant regret.

Now, with even a glimmer of hope, Calvin couldn't help but get his hopes up.

Meeting Calvin's anxious eyes, Citrine shook her head.

After a pause, she added, "But I can prescribe something for the pain. It should help when the next attack comes."

Hearing this, both Raymond and Calvin felt a spark of hope flicker back to life.