The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

Chapter 118

Citrine finished her call, her tone brisk and confident. "Alright, sweetheart, let me handle it from here."

She hung up, setting her phone aside just as Regina-who'd been watching Citrine's so-called business call with growing amusement-burst out laughing. "Oh, come on, Citrine, did you rope someone into this little charade of yours?" she teased. "You have to admit, you're quite the actress. That performance was almost convincing!" Regina laughed so hard she doubled over.

Just then, a notification chimed on Salome's phone. She glanced down, surprise flickering across her face. "Wait-JR's official account just posted an update!"

The post read: *"Liking your bag? The new one's already on its way. @CICI"* Beneath the message was a photo-Salome's exact handbag.

Regina's curiosity got the better of her. She pulled out her own phone and checked JR's feed. When she saw the post, her grin widened. "Well, Citrine, looks like the original bag's already been given away. The one you gave Auntie must be a fake."

Citrine, scrolling through her phone as well, simply arched an eyebrow and offered a sly, almost impish smile. "Maybe you should check who JR actually tagged in that post?" she suggested, her voice sweet but edged with mischief.

Regina scoffed, crossing her arms. "What, you think they tagged you? Just because your name's Citrine doesn't mean you're CICI. Brands like JR are way out of reach—even for the Carmichaels. There's no way you, of all people, could get close."

She couldn't believe, no matter what, that Citrine had any real connection to JR. If even the Carmichael family had no access, how could Citrine, whose own family was far less influential?

turned her phone around, showing Regina the screen. "Actually,

and Salome both crowded in for a

really is," Salome murmured, exchanging a

over their faces as they spoke in

phone out of her hand, scrolling quickly through the messages. Sure enough, there it was: a direct interaction between JR Group and

could this

could that woman possibly have

then, as the realization sank in—remembering the

face went from pale

to doubt you," Salome said, her voice trembling with regret. The shock hadn't

Citrine replied,

the Carmichael family's housekeeper approached, leading a small group of people into

in a white tailored suit, her hair pulled back in a sleek chignon. She exuded an

Salome blurted