The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 499

Once the other three had left, only Citrine and Dick remained in the room.

Dick glared at her, his face dark with rage, looking as if he wanted to tear her apart. “You wretched bitch,” he spat, “first you leak dirt on my family, and now you’ve sabotaged my deal. Do you really think I won’t kill you?”

His anger contorted his features into something almost grotesque. He raised his hand, clearly intent on striking her across the face.

Citrine didn’t even flinch. She simply watched Dick, unblinking, as if daring him to try.

But just as his palm was about to connect, she grabbed his wrist and twisted hard.

There was a sickening crack—so fast Dick barely registered what had happened before a wave of agony shot up his arm. It felt as though his bones had shattered.

“Ah—let go!” Dick howled, his face screwing up in pain.

“And you think you can kill me?” Citrine scoffed, as if she’d just heard the punchline to a bad joke. “Please.”

She released his hand with a look of distaste, pulling a small bottle of sanitizer from her purse and meticulously cleaning her hands, her expression finally relaxing once she’d wiped away every trace of him.

Dick clutched his arm, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow. “What the hell do you mean by that?” he gritted out, trying to mask his confusion with bravado.

Citrine shrugged, lips curving into a smirk. “After tonight, you’ll be kicked out of the Glenwood family for good. What do you have left to threaten me with?”

A flicker of dread crossed Dick’s face. “What are you planning?” he demanded, suddenly uneasy. He had the sinking feeling she was about to pull something else.

She let out a low, chilling laugh that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Then, locking eyes with him, she changed the subject. “Dick, do you remember what it felt like when your thigh was stabbed through?”

She stepped closer, her tone almost playful, though there was nothing warm in her eyes. In this moment, her gaze mirrored the one she’d worn years ago—right before she’d driven a knife into his leg.