The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 588

It was still flu season. Aside from hospitals, most businesses had shut down, and people were staying home, doing their best to avoid infection and limit going out.

But after being cooped up for so long, tempers were fraying. People who already struggled with their mood grew more anxious and irritable. That’s when the news broke: the Glenwood family was accused of manufacturing fake medicines, running corrupt hospitals, and raking in dirty money through various shady organizations.

Online forums exploded.

“They’ll stoop to anything for a buck! Don’t they fear karma?”

“So this is Crestwood’s so-called ‘First Family’? I bet their fortune was built on the backs of the vulnerable.”

“No wonder the meds I bought last time didn’t work! Turns out they were counterfeit. Damn it! Is there anything the Glenwoods won’t do for money?”

“My father took their fake pills and then had surgery at a Glenwood Group hospital. He didn’t make it. I always thought it was just his age, but now I know the truth. The Glenwoods are monsters—give me back my father!”

“My wife died after taking those fake drugs and then going in for surgery at one of their hospitals—lost both her and our unborn child.”

“My daughter died from those counterfeit meds too.”

“I always thought, hey, Glenwood Group is a public company, their products must be safe. I’ve been buying their stuff for years. Who knew the owners were such scum?”

“Glenwood Group is rotten to the core. From now on, I’m boycotting everything they and their partners sell.”

“The Glenwoods should all rot in hell. A bunch of heartless tycoons, getting rich off the blood of ordinary people. Companies like this deserve to go down in flames.”

…

The front gates of Glenwood Mansion were smeared with the word “murderer,” and every day someone would splash fresh animal blood across the entrance. The Glenwoods were now virtual prisoners in their own home, terrified of what the angry mob might do if they dared step outside.

That’s when Talbot’s phone rang. It was his assistant.

He answered at once, his voice tight with urgency. “Well? Did you find out who’s behind this?”

The assistant’s reply was crisp and clear. “It’s President Carmichael. All the dirt, all the media spin—it’s coming straight from her.”

“Citrine Carmichael?” Talbot blurted out in disbelief.

“Yes, sir,” the assistant confirmed.