The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 122

"What kind of bear is this supposed to be?"

"Upstairs commenter, are you trying to kill me with laughter? My happiness today is all thanks to you."

"But seriously, have you guys noticed how fit Mr. Aldridge is? Look at those broad shoulders, that slim waist, the muscles… I can't even imagine what it'd feel like to touch him."

"I'm done pretending. Even if Mr. Aldridge's face is swollen like a balloon, that body's still something else. [drooling emoji]"

…

The tone of the comments suddenly shifted.

"Damn bastard, I'm about to lose it." The more Quentin read, the darker his expression became.

In the end, his phone took the brunt of his rage—he slammed his barely-used phone to the ground, shattering it into pieces.

Theo watched Quentin pacing back and forth in fury, unable to hold back a question. "Man, someone really went after you, Quentin. Who did you piss off this time?"

Quentin thought hard. Other than kidnapping that girl recently, he couldn't recall offending anyone else.

Could it be her?

He shook his head. Impossible. That girl looked so fragile—there's no way it could be her. Quentin dismissed the thought immediately.

Still, he wanted to know: who could be so ruthless?

With no clue at all, Quentin scowled and shook his head. "I have no idea."

When he'd been attacked, he'd been stuffed in a sack—he never saw his attacker's face. No matter how many times he asked, the person never uttered a word. He didn't even hear their voice.

"This is ridiculous. I'm calling the police." The more he thought, the angrier he got. He ordered Bob to get a medical report from the hospital to document his injuries.

Bob was back in just a few minutes. Quentin asked right away, "That was fast. Did you get it?"

Bob shook his head. "No. They wouldn't give it to me."

"Why not?" Quentin frowned.

---

Meanwhile, inside the Grandeur Waters Estates, Citrine was playing chess with the old man.

When the old man arrived, he'd specially brought along the chess set Citrine had given him.

"So? Want me to teach you how to play?" Other than fishing, chess was the old man's greatest passion. Unfortunately, no one else in the family was much of a challenge, which was why he'd come looking for Raymond. Since Raymond wasn't home yet and he had nothing better to do, he decided to see if Citrine was interested in a game.

Citrine took a seat across from him, her tone even. "I know a little."

"You know how to play chess?" Weston was surprised.

In his mind, chess required patience and strategy—something you couldn't master without years of practice. Younger folks rarely had the discipline for it.

But then he thought of Regina. She'd played with him since childhood and was quite skilled, though still not quite a match for him. Citrine, no matter how talented, surely couldn't be better than Regina, whom he'd trained since she was a kid.

So, Weston didn't take Citrine's words too seriously.