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 condition.

she remained calm and even, but Valerie's face was a shifting palette of shock and rage; her polite

Valerie dropped

she spat, her voice venomous. "What are you pretending for? Climbing into Mr. Carmichael's bed at your age-you must be real proud

seductive face-God knows how many men you've messed

real pieces of work,

could finish, a sharp slap landed across Valerie's

was

She never thought this girl would actually hit her. With that innocent face, Citrine always seemed cold

her lips in a warning, she said, "Keep mouthing off

problem with her own hands, it wasn't really

that mistake. If someone tried to make her miserable, she'd

start hurling more insults when footsteps sounded

anything, Valerie wiped her face, flopped down on the

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

when she cried, the kind of weeping that tugged at the