The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

The next day, Citrine went to visit Vester with Sebastian Vesper.

Vester was in good spirits. Despite just coming out of surgery, he actually looked healthier and more energized than before.

When he saw Citrine, his expression softened noticeably.

Citrine didn't notice the change in his eyes. She settled onto the sofa, her tone casual and professional, as if she were just checking in on another patient.

"How are you feeling? Any discomfort anywhere?"

Vester shook his head. "No, nothing hurts."

Citrine offered a gentle reminder, "Just stick to the rehab plan I laid out for you. If all goes well, you should be able to get out of that wheelchair in about three months."

"Three months." For a moment, hope flickered in Vester's eyes. He looked at Citrine, his gratitude unmistakable. "Thank you, Dr. Carmichael."

"I'm just doing my job." Citrine's expression remained composed, but as a doctor, seeing her patient's steady recovery brought her real satisfaction.

She had given him a second chance, and Vester was deeply thankful. He hadn't felt this happy in years.

Of course, he was well aware this wasn't charity-there were strings attached.

serious. "Dr. Carmichael, I imagine you've got something

conditions from the start-and the promise

you're being so straightforward, Mr. Vester, I won't

asked,

vanished; his whole body tensed, and an

at Citrine, clearly guessing

long pause, he offered a word of caution. "It's not that I

But honestly, the less you

do know quite a bit, then." Citrine hadn't missed his

fell silent, his face

it drop. She pressed on, "I used to be one of the

Mr. Vester, will you tell me what

this guarded, sometimes honesty

just had to take a risk and

expression was pure disbelief.

a faint, knowing smile on her lips.

escaped years

his company developed. It doesn't hurt your organs, but unless you get the antidote every month, you'll die—just like that. No one's