The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

Chapter 145

Ever since that last harrowing hypnosis session-when the nightmare had felt too real-Raymond hadn't set foot in Dr. Yates's office for weeks.

But the dream haunted him, gnawing at his thoughts, refusing to let him rest. Today, unable to shake the unease, Raymond finally returned, desperate to prove to himself that it had only been a dream.

He settled onto the reclined leather chair, letting his mind blur and drift. As the world faded, awareness returned—this time, inside a dilapidated apartment block.

He found himself in a grimy stairwell, the banister thick with dust, yellowing walls cracked and peeling, every surface stained and neglected. The corridor was choked with broken-down cardboard boxes and empty bottles, the detritus of lives long unkempt.

Raymond had grown up in privilege, shuttled between exclusive clubs and pristine mansions. He'd never set foot in a place like this, and the squalor made him wrinkle his nose in distaste.

Suddenly, a door behind him slammed open. The clang of metal against wall echoed through the hallway.

A gruff, broad-shouldered man stood in the doorway. His skin was weathered and ruddy, a threadbare winter coat hanging from his shoulders, and a half-empty bottle dangled from his hand. He jabbed a finger at a little girl-no more than two or three-his words slurred and venomous, spittle flying.

All you do is eat. Get out! If you can't bring back any money today, don't bother coming back-just freeze out there and

faded, patchwork parka so thin it barely held any stuffing. Her back was to Raymond, her tiny frame swamped in the

man, craning her neck with effort. "I'm hungry." Her voice was barely a whisper, frail

crouched down, and jabbed her

she

bring home money—if you let me and my boy go hungry-I'll beat you to death, you hear

upright, small hands pressed to her stomach. She stared up at him, unblinking, the same quiet defiance in

plain English?" he snarled.

that, the girl bolted for

table. She'd barely run a few steps before the man hurled the bottle after her. It shattered at her feet, glass and booze splattering

she ran, shards of glass pierced

her, but the girl only flinched and kept going, as if she couldn't feel the pain. She stumbled down the stairs—and then, suddenly, she slipped, tumbling hard at the landing,

Raymond