Chapter 259

Clifford stared at Jeanette, eyes rimmed red. "That's impossible."

His mind rushed back to the memory of waking up alone in that room. Desperation edged his voice. "When I first came to, you were the only one there. Later, the housekeeper told me you'd looked after me the whole day and night. And wasn't Citrine off at the amusement park back then? There's no way it was her."

"Is it really impossible, or do you just refuse to face the truth?" Jeanette rolled her eyes, letting out a short, mocking laugh. "Clifford, you Iversons are all so hopelessly naïve. Have you ever stopped to think? I was always the one being waited on in our house-how would I ever take care of someone else?"

Clifford's face drained of color.

Jeanette ignored him, her smirk growing colder. "And those housekeepers? They're paid by my mother, Clifford. Do you really think they'd dare to contradict her?"

She paused, a bitter amusement flickering in her eyes. "As for Citrine, she was never at the amusement park. In fact, she's probably never set foot in one her whole life." Jeanette let out a soft, delighted laugh. "Guess where she really was?"

Clifford frowned. "Where?"

gave out-she collapsed in her bed and lay there for two whole days before anyone even noticed. It wasn't

can you be so cruel?" Clifford stared at Jeanette in disbelief,

that episode all too well-Citrine being rushed to the hospital in a panic. The family had insisted she'd gotten sick from playing outside and

Citrine was just being dramatic. When he visited her in the hospital, he'd even

wretched

ways he'd treated Citrine over the years, his expression

memories crashed

glared at Jeanette with disgust. "Tell me something, Jeanette-those gaming gift boxes I got every year when I

you that junk. I'd never waste money on cheap stuff like that. If it weren't for the fact that you looked so happy when you got those

his voice steady. "And back then, when I was sick-who was it that gave

much blood-I wasn't about to go through that, it would've hurt like hell. But Citrine's blood type matched yours, and whatever I said, the

chest. He couldn't bring himself to ask

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