The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 109

The Carmichael Group was CICI Group's ideal partner, and both Raymond and Carlotta knew it all too well. With Carlotta also aware of Citrine's true identity, it took them barely five minutes to hammer out the details and seal the deal.

Citrine, however, didn't participate in the negotiations. Propping her head on her hand, she drifted off, lost in thought over whether she should buy out the Iverson family if their business went under. She was so absorbed that she didn't even notice the meeting had ended until Raymond called her name several times, snapping her back to reality.

Noticing the furrow in her brow, Raymond asked, "What's on your mind?"

She looked at him, her tone calm. "I was thinking about the Iverson family."

Raymond paused, surprised. Citrine was young, and even if she'd cut ties with the Iversons, he imagined she couldn't be entirely indifferent. As he was searching for comforting words, she continued, "I'm wondering when the Iverson family will finally go bankrupt."

Raymond blinked, taken aback. "Do you really want to see them go under?" The bitterness in her voice hinted at deep resentment.

She met his gaze and answered earnestly, "Absolutely." The Iversons' company, she reasoned, would make a perfect branch office for CICI Group in Havencrest.

But after a moment, she added, "But now's not the time." If they went bankrupt now, it would be letting them off too easily.

Raymond's expression darkened, his eyes impenetrable.

What on earth had the Iverson family done to her? If all they'd done was slander her and send her abroad, surely that wasn't enough to warrant this level of hatred. There had to be something else, something he didn't know.

Suddenly, a memory from that day's hypnosis session flashed in his mind—the vivid, unsettling vision that felt less like a dream and more like a memory. Every time he recalled it, a chill ran down his spine. It was all too real.

Just then, Weston approached, taking a sleek black box from a bodyguard and handing it to Citrine.

"For you—a little welcome gift," the old man said, his usual sternness softened by a hint of awkwardness.

"Thank you." Citrine smiled politely and accepted the box.

She understood that Weston was expressing both gratitude and a quiet apology for the past. He had never actually harmed her, and she saw no reason to hold a grudge.