The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

Chapter 235

Citrine had no memory of what had happened to her. Raymond, worried that the truth might upset her even more, stayed quiet about the details. When she turned to him with a question, he immediately steered the conversation away.

"You must be starving, Citrine," he said, forcing a smile. "I had someone pick up that nourishing soup you like on Main Street. Why don't you have a bit?"

As he spoke, Raymond thoughtfully unfolded the tray table and arranged the food

in front of her, making sure everything was within easy reach.

Once he'd finished, he ushered everyone else out of the hospital room. He lingered for a moment, then quietly slipped out himself.

Out in the hallway, the Carmichaels turned their attention to Dr. Yates.

Raymond lowered his voice, anxiety tightening his words. "What's going on, Yates? Why can't Citrine remember anything?"

Yates let out a heavy sigh, resignation etched on his face. "Her condition has gotten much worse, Raymond. Every time she loses control, she ends up hurting herself. And afterwards, she forgets it ever happened."

As he spoke, his expression grew grim. "At first, she wasn't as hard on herself, but as things have progressed, she's become more and more violent. The worst part is, she never remembers doing it, so she could be in danger at any time."

close eye on her. Citrine's in a

left, Citrine didn't touch the food. Instead, she quietly lifted her left hand and began to carefully unwind

angry red of the wound stood out starkly against her

She'd hurt herself again.

as she stared at the gash. It was worse than before-she'd

kept up, it was only a matter of time before

scoffed quietly, eyes fixed on her

was a monster

could ever love

had ever hurt her would pay. She'd drag every last one of

nearly

smile curled on her lips, a wild gleam flickering in her

soup on the tray had gone cold. Citrine hadn't touched a single bite. When the Carmichaels returned a little later, this was

spoonful missing. Citrine lay curled on her side, arm limp across the bed,

seen her like

Citrine had always faced the world

letting anyone see her shaken or