The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

Chapter 46

The entire makeup team was stunned the moment they laid eyes on Citrine.

They were no strangers to beauty—having styled countless celebrities and young heiresses, they'd seen their fair share of stunners. But Citrine was in a league of her own; she was, hands down, the most breathtaking woman they'd ever seen.

When it came time to start on her makeup, the lead artist found herself hesitating, almost reluctant to touch such perfection.

"Sweetheart, your skin is incredible!" she exclaimed. Honestly, this girl would look gorgeous without a single drop of makeup.

Citrine's complexion was so fair and flawless, like the smoothest porcelain. The makeup artist couldn't resist giving her cheek a gentle pinch-it was just too soft, too pristine. She searched for a single imperfection and found nothing.

All she ended up doing was dusting on a light, barely-there foundation and adding a touch of natural color. There was no need for anything bold; Citrine's beauty was already dazzling, almost impossible to look at directly.

It was, without question, the easiest job the artist had ever had.

Next, the stylist swept Citrine's hair up into a delicate chignon, framing her petite face and giving her an air of elegance that was still fresh and youthful.

Citrine chose a white, strapless cocktail gown that fell just above her knees. The soft fabric hugged her slender waist, making

inch of skin she showed seemed to glow, especially the graceful lines of her shoulders and neck, and the delicate butterfly-shaped bones on her back

unreal," someone from the styling team whispered, unable to tear their

his daughter was beautiful, but seeing her tonight

fastened it gently around Citrine's neck. Each pearl

Citrine ventured. She knew little about jewelry, but she could tell this necklace was something

about the price.

if it was a

her. Citrine's eyes shimmered; she opened her mouth to speak but found

high walls around her heart, and if he wanted to reach her, he needed to show her how

right arm. Citrine glanced at him, then slipped

moment they entered, every head in the

of the attention-she could sense the curiosity, the scrutiny, and, from a few corners, a hint