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!"

to reach the car, a bystander yelled at

thing's smoking—it

sweetheart, you'd better stay away, it's not

do

man inside. If he

she strode right

grabbed the emergency hammer, and smashed the glass at all four corners, carefully clearing the shards before opening the door

with blood, his leg pinned under the seat. He was trapped and

working inch

wedged in tight, and though Citrine was young, her strength was starting to fail her. Within minutes, sweat beaded on her

the haze, surprise flickering across his usually stern features when he recognized

here?" He forced his eyes

Breathe deeply. Save your strength." Citrine didn't look at him, focusing

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

her handkerchief to the wound to stop

eased Weston out

got some strength left, old man?" she