The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress (Citrine) novel Chapter 544

After she finished speaking, Citrine quietly watched Quentin’s face for any reaction.

Struggle. Disappointment. Disgust. Hesitation...

A faint, knowing smile tugged at her lips—she could tell her words had done their work, driving a wedge just as she’d intended.

Of course, she hadn’t actually lied. Everything she’d said was the truth.

Since Kali was so eager to see her ruined, Citrine figured she’d strike first, isolating Kali until she was left with no one to turn to.

What was the point of crushing her in one blow? No, Citrine far preferred watching someone squirm—caught between life and death, unable to truly live or die. That, to her, was far more entertaining.

Having stirred up enough trouble for Quentin tonight, Citrine checked the time and prepared to leave.

Just then, Justin approached.

He wore a sycophantic smile as he greeted her, “President Carmichael, I owe you an apology. Earlier, I spoke out of turn—I misjudged you, and I’m truly sorry for the things I said.”

As he spoke, Justin picked up a glass of red wine from a nearby table and offered it to Citrine.

Citrine let out a short, contemptuous laugh and accepted it.

Seeing this, Justin finally seemed to relax. He erupted into a self-assured laugh. “President Carmichael, The Dixon Group has done exceptionally well in Crestwood these past years. Our microchips are second to none in the industry. If our companies joined forces, we’d be unstoppable.”

His eyes gleamed with arrogance; it clearly hadn’t crossed his mind that Citrine might refuse. In his mind, business was business—profit always came first, and this partnership was mutually beneficial. Why would she turn him down?

Justin grabbed another glass from the table, swirling it before clinking it against Citrine’s. “Here’s to our partnership, President Carmichael. Let’s toast, and then we can sign the contract.”

“I’ll drink first, to show my sincerity.”

Throwing back his glass in one gulp, Justin set it down with a flourish—only to notice that Citrine hadn’t even lifted hers. She simply watched him, lost in thought.

“President Carmichael, aren’t you going to drink?” Justin ventured, uncertainty creeping into his voice.