The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

Chapter 22

"You probably don't get it, kid," Valerie said, barely keeping her anger in check as she cursed Citrine out a hundred different ways in her head. "I was handpicked by Mr. Carmichael himself. I'm not like everyone else here."

Citrine muttered under her breath, "Well, his judgment must be slipping, hiring someone like you."

"What did you just say?" Valerie's eyes narrowed; she was sure Citrine was talking smack.

"Nothing," Citrine replied, stifling a laugh. "So, what exactly makes you so special?"

Honestly, Citrine thought, bosses hiring staff was the most ordinary thing in the world. Who knew someone could spin that into a whole fantasy about marrying into wealth and power?

Before Valerie could answer, Citrine cut her off, "Don't tell me you actually think Raymond Carmichael would marry you and make you the lady of the house?"

Valerie's face flushed crimson. That thought had crossed her mind more than once, but having this brat voice it so bluntly left her feeling more than a little embarrassed.

"I" she started, trying to recover her composure.

But Citrine didn't let her finish. "You're delusional. Might want to get that checked out."

that kind of fantasy is a medical

hitting its mark. Throughout the exchange, she remained calm and even, but Valerie's face was a shifting palette of

dropped the

are you pretending for? Climbing into Mr. Carmichael's bed at your

sly, seductive face-God knows how

parents must be real pieces of work,

could finish, a sharp slap landed across Valerie's cheek, stinging

brat-how was

hit

lips in a warning, she

problem with her own hands, it

lived one life bottling things up-she had no intention of repeating that mistake. If someone tried to make her miserable, she'd give it right

start hurling more insults when footsteps sounded

her face, flopped down on the

out because I was worried you'd distract Mr. Carmichael. Even if you didn't like it, you can't just

the kind of weeping