The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 95

It was Monday, and the family's driver happened to be off. Raymond was still at the hospital, and Citrine couldn't be bothered to trouble him, so she decided to walk home.

She was just passing through the alley behind her school when, out of nowhere, the world spun and went dark. Her knees buckled, and she felt herself hit the ground—hard.

Somewhere in the haze, she heard the rumble of a van's engine. That was all the confirmation she needed: she'd been kidnapped.

Citrine forced herself to stay calm, drawing in a shaky breath before speaking up. "Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?"

Silence. Not a word in response.

She tried again. "Who are you?"

Still no answer.

She switched tactics, aiming for a negotiating tone. "Look, if it's money you're after, name your price. I can pay whatever you want. Just let me go."

This time, a man's voice snapped at her, harsh and impatient. "Shut it. Say another word and I'll cut your tongue out."

He didn't sound like he was bluffing.

Citrine's heart dropped. She pressed her lips together and went silent. Survival came first.

She forced herself to stay quiet, mind racing through everything that had happened recently. Slowly, a theory took shape, and the icy fear gripping her chest loosened, if only a little.

If it was who she thought, then at worst, this was payback—revenge, maybe some pain—but probably not a death sentence.

With that in mind, Citrine squeezed her eyes shut inside the rough burlap sack. However long this would last, she needed her strength, so she tried to rest.

She must have dozed for half an hour.

When Citrine woke again, she found herself staring up at a dazzling crystal chandelier. She jolted fully awake and sprang to her feet.

A quick scan of the room told her she was in some kind of upscale karaoke lounge. The place looked expensive.

Citrine met his gaze, voice steady. "And if I don't?"

"I've got plenty of ways to deal with you," Quentin sneered.

She narrowed her eyes, letting a flicker of genuine fear show. "We've never met before. I've never done anything to you."

Her eyes were wide and clear, like a startled fawn's—big, bright, and shimmering with unshed tears. One more push, and it looked like she might break down.

With her delicate features, the effect was almost heartbreakingly pitiful.

Quentin felt a sudden wave of irritation and snapped, "Enough with the waterworks! You make it sound like I'm some kind of monster."

"But I'm not crying. And you are bullying me," Citrine replied softly, her voice trembling just enough to make her seem even more vulnerable.

"Shut up." Quentin was caught off guard, left fuming and speechless.