The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress (Citrine) novel Chapter 391

The memories he’d tried to bury surged back and struck him like a punch.

Quentin’s expression darkened instantly; he looked genuinely rattled, his voice tight with anger. “Don’t you dare bring that up.”

That incident was the biggest embarrassment of his life—he’d never live it down.

Seeing how upset he was, Citrine felt a wicked thrill. Smiling sweetly, she twisted the knife: “The internet never forgets. And last I checked, it’s my mouth—I’ll say what I like.”

“Streaking Champion.” She waggled her eyebrows at him, repeating the title with gleeful malice.

“You little brat, do you want me to knock some sense into you?” Quentin hated it when anyone mentioned his most humiliating moment. Now his face was thunderous, all but livid.

As for the jerk who’d ripped his clothes off—and punched him, no less—he’d better hope Quentin never found him. If he did, he’d make him pay.

“Go ahead. Try it.” Citrine shot him a cool, unimpressed look, utterly unfazed.

Not just Quentin—ten of him wouldn’t be a match for her.

Every time Quentin crossed paths with this sharp-tongued menace, he ended up speechless. She was his kryptonite, plain and simple.

“See you in the arena,” he spat, shooting her a venomous glare before stalking back to join his team.

Citrine didn’t bother with a reply; she just waved at him, a mocking little goodbye.

But the second he turned away, her eyes turned cold.

In her previous life, Quentin’s greatest pride had been his gaming talent. If her memory was correct, it was Quentin’s team that had taken home the world championship.

Too bad for him, because this time, she was competing—and he didn’t stand a chance.