The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress (Citrine) novel Chapter 817

Citrine didn’t get home until three o’clock.

The moment she stepped through the door, both the Carmichaels and the Saunders—gathered in the living room—turned as one to look at her.

When no one else appeared behind her after a few seconds, everyone hurried over, voices overlapping with warmth and concern.

“You must be exhausted, honey. Let me make you a nice, warm soup for your stomach,” her mother fussed.

“Come here, Citrine, sit by me and try these pastries your grandfather picked out this year,” called her older brother.

“Citrine, sweetheart, come sit next to Grandpa,” chimed her grandfather, patting the spot beside him.

At first, Citrine felt awkward with all the attention, but over time, she’d gotten used to it.

After a bit of playful bickering and jockeying for her company, she finally ended up in the very center of the couch, surrounded on all sides.

Weston grinned so broadly that his eyes nearly disappeared behind his smile. He was secretly relieved that his precious granddaughter hadn’t brought that “wild young man” home with her. Even though Raymond and Hilda had talked him into accepting her relationship with that guy, he still couldn’t help but feel protective. Seeing Citrine walk in alone, he was so happy he could hardly contain it.

The rest of the family might not have said anything out loud, but they all shared Weston’s sentiment. After all, they’d only just gotten their beloved girl back; of course, they wanted to keep her close as long as possible.

Weston decided not to dwell on the inevitable heartbreak of his granddaughter being whisked away by some boy someday. He pushed aside his reluctance, his face lighting up with a smile. “Alright, time for the red envelopes!”

The younger Carmichaels and Saunders perked up instantly and crowded around the coffee table.

Wade, always the charmer, darted forward before anyone else could react. With a dramatic flourish, he dropped to his knees in front of Herschel and gave him a deep bow. “Happy New Year, Grandpa! Wishing you wealth and good fortune!”

Herschel shot his own grandson a withering glare, his face darkening. “You cheeky brat, is he even your real grandpa?”

Weston puffed up with pride and held out a thick red envelope, purposely raising his voice so Herschel could hear, “Here you go, my dear grandson. This one’s for you.”

“Thank you, Grandpa!” Wade beamed as he took the envelope, weighing it appreciatively in his hand—completely oblivious to the trouble he was stirring.

Herschel snorted, shooting his “bargain grandson” a look of disdain. “You can keep him. All I care about is my sweet granddaughter,” he declared, turning to Citrine with a tender smile. He handed her an envelope even heftier than Wade’s.

“This is for you, darling,” Herschel said fondly. “I put this together just for you. No one else gets one like it.”

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