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.

sharp-tongued menace, he ended

arena," he spat, shooting her a venomous glare before stalking back to

mocking little goodbye. But the second he turned away, her

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

she was

wait to see Quentin's face when he lost. Just

she'd show Quentin just how worthless his so-called talent really

confident smile curled her lips. In her eyes was a glint of certainty—as if the whole world was already in the palm of

time for the final showdown. Citrine's team and Quentin's team took

fans erupted into cheers, each side rooting passionately

whispered to Wade, "Who do you think is going to

Citrine. The more he looked, the prouder he seemed. "Is that even

"Quentin? Please. He's not even in her league."