The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 46

The entire makeup team was stunned the moment they laid eyes on Citrine.

They were no strangers to beauty—having styled countless celebrities and young heiresses, they'd seen their fair share of stunners. But Citrine was in a league of her own; she was, hands down, the most breathtaking woman they'd ever seen.

When it came time to start on her makeup, the lead artist found herself hesitating, almost reluctant to touch such perfection.

"Sweetheart, your skin is incredible!" she exclaimed. Honestly, this girl would look gorgeous without a single drop of makeup.

Citrine's complexion was so fair and flawless, like the smoothest porcelain. The makeup artist couldn't resist giving her cheek a gentle pinch—it was just too soft, too pristine. She searched for a single imperfection and found nothing.

All she ended up doing was dusting on a light, barely-there foundation and adding a touch of natural color. There was no need for anything bold; Citrine's beauty was already dazzling, almost impossible to look at directly.

It was, without question, the easiest job the artist had ever had.

Next, the stylist swept Citrine's hair up into a delicate chignon, framing her petite face and giving her an air of elegance that was still fresh and youthful.

For her dress, Citrine chose a white, strapless cocktail gown that fell just above her knees. The soft fabric hugged her slender waist, making her look even more delicate—like you could encircle her with just one hand.

Every inch of skin she showed seemed to glow, especially the graceful lines of her shoulders and neck, and the delicate butterfly-shaped bones on her back that drew everyone's eyes and held them captive.

"Jesus, she's almost unreal," someone from the styling team whispered, unable to tear their gaze away.

Raymond had always known his daughter was beautiful, but seeing her tonight left him speechless.

He opened a small box, took out a gleaming white pearl necklace, and fastened it gently around Citrine's neck. Each pearl glimmered softly, accented by sparkling diamonds—luxurious and radiant.

"This must be worth a fortune?" Citrine ventured. She knew little about jewelry, but she could tell this necklace was something special.

Weston sat at the center of the room, surrounded by people, holding court like some kind of king.

He barely glanced up when Raymond approached, but when his gaze landed on the girl beside his son, his brows knit together, and a flicker of disappointment flashed across his face.

"You really brought this nonsense here? What do you think the Carmichael family is, a circus?" Weston's voice was cold, and he didn't even bother to look at them properly.

Raymond frowned. "Dad, can you not be so harsh in front of everyone?"

He could take his father's insults toward himself, but he wouldn't let anyone talk that way to Citrine.

Right there, in front of the assembled crowd, Raymond spoke up: "Citrine is my daughter. She's your granddaughter."