The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 100

"Hold it tight and keep it away from me. If it causes trouble again, I'll have to see what dog stew tastes like." Citrine's voice grew even colder as she spoke.

Damn brat.

This time, Quentin gripped the leash firmly, making sure the dog couldn't follow her.

But the mutt just wouldn't settle down, barking insistently in the direction Citrine had gone.

"Quiet, you ungrateful mutt. Do you even know who your real owner is?" Quentin clamped his hand over the dog's snout.

"She's met you once. What did she give you that's got you so worked up?"

When the barking finally stopped, Quentin tugged gently on the dog's ear and sat down right where Citrine had been moments ago. Mimicking her, he tried to give Biscuit some commands.

"Sit." He gestured the way Citrine had.

Biscuit didn't budge.

"Spin."

Still nothing.

"Oh, come on," Quentin muttered, exasperated. "Traitor."

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Ever since Citrine had suggested hypnotherapy, Raymond had been trying to get in touch with Dr. Yates.

At first, scheduling an appointment proved difficult—Yates kept politely refusing. But as soon as Raymond casually mentioned that Citrine had referred him, Yates' attitude changed in a heartbeat, faster than flipping a page. Suddenly, he was more than willing to make time.

As luck would have it, Yates was currently in Havencrest, so they arranged to meet at his office there.

Given that Citrine had sent him, Yates clearly took the case seriously, clearing his entire afternoon schedule just for Raymond.

Yates extended a hand in greeting. "Good afternoon, Mr. Carmichael."

"Now, focus on the clock. Let yourself relax, bit by bit. Picture yourself in a wide, open meadow—just you and your daughter. She keeps calling you, ‘Dad… Dad…' You're both happy. There's nothing else in the world…"

Raymond's vision blurred as he let his eyes drift closed, sinking into the imagined expanse of grassland.

Here, Citrine looked at him with absolute trust—none of the distance or suspicion she showed in real life. She called him "Dad" over and over, as if he was the most important person in her world.

For the first time in years, Raymond felt a profound sense of peace and happiness.

Suddenly, the scene shifted.

A young woman lay motionless in a hospital bed. The monitor's line, once erratic with life, faded into a flat line. In the next moment, a doctor entered and drew a white sheet over her.

In that final second, Raymond saw the girl's face clearly.

"Citrine." He jerked awake, drenched in cold sweat, his eyes dark and haunted.