The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 22

"You probably don't get it, kid," Valerie said, barely keeping her anger in check as she cursed Citrine out a hundred different ways in her head. "I was handpicked by Mr. Carmichael himself. I'm not like everyone else here."

Citrine muttered under her breath, "Well, his judgment must be slipping, hiring someone like you."

"What did you just say?" Valerie's eyes narrowed; she was sure Citrine was talking smack.

"Nothing," Citrine replied, stifling a laugh. "So, what exactly makes you so special?"

Honestly, Citrine thought, bosses hiring staff was the most ordinary thing in the world. Who knew someone could spin that into a whole fantasy about marrying into wealth and power?

Before Valerie could answer, Citrine cut her off, "Don't tell me you actually think Raymond Carmichael would marry you and make you the lady of the house?"

Valerie's face flushed crimson. That thought had crossed her mind more than once, but having this brat voice it so bluntly left her feeling more than a little embarrassed.

"I—" she started, trying to recover her composure.

But Citrine didn't let her finish. "You're delusional. Might want to get that checked out."

"Seriously, that kind of fantasy is a medical condition. You should see someone."

Citrine's voice echoed crisply through the office, every word hitting its mark. Throughout the exchange, she remained calm and even, but Valerie's face was a shifting palette of shock and rage; her polite smile was starting to slip.

Finally, Valerie dropped the act entirely.

"You little tramp," she spat, her voice venomous. "What are you pretending for? Climbing into Mr. Carmichael's bed at your age—you must be real proud of yourself."

"You've got that sly, seductive face—God knows how many men you've messed around with."

"Your parents must be real pieces of work, too—"

Before she could finish, a sharp slap landed across Valerie's cheek, stinging red-hot.

Raymond stepped into the room and took in the scene, his expression darkening, his voice icy. "What's going on here?" he asked, eyes on Citrine.

Citrine looked up and met his gaze, her own eyes growing colder by the second. Something in his frosty stare sparked irritation deep inside her.

Her voice was hard as steel. "I hit her. She deserved it."

"I'm not apologizing."

Valerie, hearing this, felt a thrill of satisfaction. She just knew Mr. Carmichael saw her differently—this little wretch was nothing next to her.

"Mr. Carmichael—" she began, trying to squeeze out another tear.

"Enough. Get out."

The glare in Raymond's eyes cut through her act in an instant. Valerie shrank back, the words dying in her throat, and scurried from the room.