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

That thing's smoking—it could explode any

sweetheart, you'd better stay away, it's

do something reckless

them, her tone grave. "There's an elderly man inside. If he doesn't get help now, he could

strode right up

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

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

working inch by inch to

starting to fail her. Within minutes, sweat beaded on her

through the haze, surprise flickering across his usually stern

He forced his eyes open, that familiar icy composure now cracked

Save your strength." Citrine didn't look at him, focusing all her effort on the

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

Citrine managed to free his leg. She pressed her handkerchief to the

Weston out and propped his hands

strength left, old man?"