The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

Chapter 391

The memories he'd tried to bury surged back and struck him like a punch.

Quentin's expression darkened instantly; he looked genuinely rattled, his voice tight with anger. "Don't you dare bring that up."

That incident was the biggest embarrassment of his life—he'd never live it down.

Seeing how upset he was, Citrine felt a wicked thrill. Smiling sweetly, she twisted the knife: "The internet never forgets. And last I checked, it's my mouth-I'll say what I like."

"Streaking Champion." She waggled her eyebrows at him, repeating the title with gleeful malice.

"You little brat, do you want me to knock some sense into you?" Quentin hated it when anyone mentioned his most humiliating moment. Now his face was thunderous, all but livid.

As for the jerk who'd ripped his clothes off and punched him, no less-he'd better hope Quentin never found him. If he did, he'd make him pay.

"Go ahead. Try it." Citrine shot him a cool, unimpressed look, utterly unfazed. Not just Quentin-ten of him wouldn't be a match for her.

menace, he ended up speechless. She was his kryptonite, plain

spat, shooting her a venomous glare before stalking

just waved at him, a mocking little goodbye.

gaming talent. If her memory was correct, it was Quentin's team that

bad for him, because this time, she was competing

when he lost. Just the thought made her pulse

she'd show Quentin just how worthless

glint of certainty—as if the whole world was already in

the final showdown. Citrine's team and Quentin's team took the stage together, each sizing the other

fans erupted into cheers, each side rooting

the crowd, Curry leaned over and whispered to Wade, "Who do you think is going to

seemed. "Is that

added, with a disdainful sniff, "Quentin? Please. He's not even in her league." Curry fell silent. He