The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 513

Compared to Monica and Wade, Hilda’s face was unreadable; if anything, her expression had grown a shade darker.

Wade and Monica exchanged a puzzled glance before Wade finally spoke up. “Aunt Hilda, shouldn’t you be happy for your niece? Citrine’s accomplished so much—why do you look so grim?”

As their words faded, Citrine, too, turned to Hilda in confusion, her eyes searching her mother’s face.

Noticing her daughter’s bewildered gaze, Hilda gave a bitter smile. “My poor Citrine—she must have suffered so much over the years.”

She went on quietly, “If Citrine’s only this outstanding because she’s endured so much hardship, then I almost wish she’d grown up a rebellious child who didn’t care about grades or ‘success.’ I’d rather she be ordinary and happy than brilliant and hurting.”

Aside from what had happened to Citrine overseas, Hilda had investigated every detail of her daughter’s life back home.

Before turning three, Citrine had been taken away by a middle-aged man—a drunken gambler who abused her and forced her to scavenge for scraps to feed them both.

Then, she’d been adopted by Sawyer Iverson. For less than a year, life seemed to improve, until Sawyer brought Aline and her daughter home. From then on, peace vanished from Citrine’s life. At eleven, the Iverson family eventually sent her away to Mirage Cay.

Though Hilda’s contacts hadn’t been able to uncover what had happened to Citrine on Mirage Cay, she knew all too well the island’s reputation. The horrors there were said to make even her difficult life at home seem mild by comparison.

Under such circumstances, Citrine’s excellence could only have been forged by necessity. People saw her poise, her achievements, but only she knew how many scars and hardships lay beneath the surface.

Hearing Hilda’s words, Citrine froze, her lashes trembling as if she couldn’t believe her mother would ever say such things.

All her life, Citrine had been taught that strength was the only way to survive—that to be liked, to be safe, she had to be exceptional and useful, or else she’d be powerless.

But Hilda seemed not to care about her achievements; she cared only about whether Citrine had suffered.

For a fleeting moment, Citrine felt the warmth of a mother’s love—something she’d almost forgotten how to recognize.