The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

The files in the Citrine dossier had all been reviewed-every last page. They contained information on everyone who'd been brought to Mirage Cay over the years.

Each person had been sorted by their value. At the top were the senior researchers and those whose expertise benefited the group the most. The next tier included high-level managers and staff who kept operations running. Then, at the very bottom, were those chillingly labeled as the "donor pool"-their bodies nothing more than inventories for the wealthy to pick apart as needed.

The list detailed exactly how much value each individual had created for Mirage Cay. It didn't stop there; it also included the identities of those buying from the donor pool, along with an abundance of evidence documenting every sordid transaction and crime, all meticulously cataloged.

Citrine immediately dispatched a team to turn over the evidence to the national authorities, who promptly alerted the Foreign Ministry.

But the Archer Group was the largest conglomerate in Magnolia, holding lucrative government contracts and deep-rooted interests. The Foreign Ministry personally sent envoys to Magnolia to negotiate, but after several rounds of talks, progress was minimal.

A few days later, Northriver issued a direct order: the military would intervene to rescue their people.

Once the command came down, Citrine led her team according to the battle plan they'd drawn up, moving swiftly toward Mirage Cay.

Inside the interrogation room on Mirage Cay, Raymond Carmichael sat slumped in a corner, his face half-hidden in shadow.

Days had passed. His wounds had begun to heal, and he was starting to look a little better.

commit crimes. When he refused, they threw him into the interrogation room and subjected him to relentless torture. In just two weeks, he'd

the agony they inflicted. In less than a

had survived two years in this place. The

at the hands of these people. Those visions were so vivid, so brutal, they eclipsed even the

his heart far outweighed any injury to his body. For a time,

him anymore. Instead, someone brought him medicine. He was served three meals a day: hearty food, a

couldn't help

afternoon, Citrine and her

layout, the security, even the exact number

D. Eliminate the snipers," Citrine ordered, gesturing crisply to her

ma'am!" the soldiers replied in unison,

come with me." Citrine's voice

determination about her-nothing like

to be. She

authority of a seasoned

made soldiers stand a little straighter just