The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

Chapter 87

When Citrine stepped out of the café, night had already fallen.

She was about to call her driver when, at the intersection ahead, she saw a black SUV collide head-on with a massive truck. The front of the SUV crumpled under the impact, thick black smoke billowing from the engine.

Within seconds, a crowd gathered at the intersection-most people standing back to gawk, none daring to approach the wreck.

Citrine slipped her phone back into her purse and pushed her way into the throng.

As soon as she made it to the front, she recognized a familiar face through the shattered rear window.

Her expression changed in an instant. Determined, she shoved aside the people blocking her way and forced herself through.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" she shouted before she got to the smoking SUV, her voice cutting through the buzz of the crowd.

Someone finally snapped out of their stupor.

"Hurry, call emergency services! If you wait, someone could die!"

the car, a bystander yelled at

That thing's smoking—it

stay away, it's not

do something reckless

an elderly man inside. If he

she strode right up

reached through the half-open window, grabbed the emergency hammer, and smashed the glass at all four corners, carefully clearing the shards before

blood, his leg pinned under the seat. He

halfway into the wreck, working inch by inch to free the elderly man's

Citrine was young, her strength was starting to

through the haze, surprise flickering across his usually stern features when

forced his eyes open, that familiar

didn't look at him,

and, without another word, did as she said-drawing in slow,

handkerchief to the wound to stop the bleeding, then climbed out

by bit, she eased Weston out and propped his hands onto

old man?" she asked, glancing