The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 245

A bold suspicion took root in Citrine’s mind.

Maybe Uncle Manley’s car accident had something to do with Phelps.

But why was he so sure Raymond was behind it? What kind of evidence did Uncle Manley have?

As night deepened, Citrine scrolled through her contacts, found the Havencrest Detective Agency group chat, and fired off a message.

Replies came in almost instantly.

“Boss! You’ve been MIA for ages—we’ve been waiting on pins and needles.”

“Boss, hang on, I’ll get on it right away.”

An hour later, a notification popped up: someone had sent a video. Citrine tapped it open immediately.

The setting was instantly familiar. She recognized it at once as the Manley family’s underground garage. The place was empty, until a man in a black tracksuit and baseball cap suddenly slipped in from the shadows. His face was hidden behind a mask, his movements furtive as he crept toward the car Manley drove most often.

He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and effortlessly unlocked the car. After making sure he was alone, he quickly tampered with the brakes, then slipped away as quietly as he’d come.

Citrine stared at the man on the screen, her gaze fixed—there was something uncannily familiar about his build.

Suddenly, it hit her. Her eyes lit up.

Of course. That was Uncle Manley’s personal driver.

She typed another message to the group.

This time, it took less than half an hour for a reply to come back.

“Boss, you guessed it—the guy is definitely connected to Phelps. Over the past two years, Phelps wired him almost eight million dollars, all before Manley’s accident.”

“And get this: on the day of the crash, the driver just happened to take the day off. For once, Manley was behind the wheel himself—and then the accident happened.”

“Oh, and I also found out the driver’s daughter was born with a heart defect. She’d been waiting ages for a transplant, no match in sight. But the day after Manley’s accident, she miraculously got a compatible heart.”

Citrine’s brow furrowed, her expression turning grim. “Look into the Jensens.”