The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

Chapter 404

"Wade, that was seriously out of line," Monica said, shooting him a glare. "You know Auntie can't stand it when anyone mentions her little sister, and yet you told her you'd found her? Honestly, you had that whipping coming."

Wade bristled. "What do you mean, lying? I'm telling the truth. I really did find her."

Monica rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. There are plenty of people who look alike. Just because you spot someone who vaguely resembles her, you go and call her your sister? That's just creepy."

Wade had always been unreliable, more interested in partying and blowing money than anything else—a textbook spoiled rich kid. Monica never took anything he said seriously.

Besides, even if he had spotted a girl who resembled Auntie, no one could possibly look as much like her as Citrine did.

Deep down, Monica was almost certain that Citrine was Auntie's daughter. If only she could get something of Citrine's—a strand of hair, a toothbrush-she could run a DNA test and put her suspicions to rest.

The idea lit up her eyes. Immediately, she sent someone to check the hospital database, hoping to find some genetic data on Citrine for comparison.

She waited anxiously, clinging to hope, but the investigator soon returned with bad news: the hospital didn't have any of Citrine's data on file.

option

pulled out her phone and called Sylvia

she managed to get Citrine to

and was waiting in the private lounge. When she saw Citrine walk in, her eyes lit up, and her greeting

Monica's sudden friendliness a bit odd but didn't dwell on it. She gave Monica a polite smile and a small

spot beside her, practically pulling Citrine down

natural at livening up a crowd, and as soon as everyone had gathered, she had the whole group singing and laughing.

there she was, seated next to Monica, who kept stealing glances at her, eyes intense and searching. Citrine couldn't shake the feeling that something was

you go to Crestwood University. Sorry if this is too personal, but do your parents live in

the point of the question, but answered patiently, "My dad lives in Crestwood. My mom

sorry, I

contain her excitement. Eighteen years old, no mother,

Citrine replied, noticing Monica's odd expression