The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 397

It was Citrine’s first time visiting the Carmichael family’s new villa in Crestwood. At the moment, everyone was present except Salome.

Citrine felt a bit awkward as she stepped inside, the unfamiliar surroundings making her hesitate briefly in the foyer.

Raymond, her father, didn’t waste a second. The moment he saw his daughter arrive, he hustled over to the entryway and bent down to set a pair of house slippers at her feet. “Citrine, the code for the front door is your birthday,” he said gently. “Next time, no need to knock. Just come in.”

“Okay,” Citrine replied, a little taken aback. It took her a moment, but then she nodded.

Her grandfather Weston’s face crinkled with a wide smile when he spotted her, though he still couldn’t help but tease. “Look at you, young lady,” he grumbled, “how long’s it been since you last bothered to come home?”

He snorted, feigning irritation. “I swear, I mention you every day. No conscience at all, that’s what you are.”

Citrine gave him a half-smile, half-smirk. “Don’t tell me you just miss having someone to fish with—or play chess?”

Everyone in the family knew Grandpa was obsessed with fishing and chess. He was fiercely competitive, too; if he didn’t catch a fish or lost a game, he’d keep at it all day until he got the outcome he wanted. No one else in the house had the patience for that—except, back in Havencrest, Citrine had always been willing to keep him company.

Weston’s eyes darted away for a second, but he scoffed stubbornly. “That’s not it.”

Manley emerged from the kitchen just in time to catch their exchange, carrying a tray of fresh fruit and homemade cake. The memory of yesterday’s fishing trip flashed through his mind—Grandpa had dragged him out at five in the morning and didn’t let up until midnight. Just thinking about it made Manley shudder.

“Citrine, here—Uncle Manley made you some dessert. Give it a try.” Manley set the treats down in front of her, then shot a look at Grandpa. “Dad, I was with you all day yesterday. You’ve already tortured me enough; don’t drag Citrine into it.”

Weston’s face darkened. “Ungrateful brat! Torture you? Fishing with me is a privilege—there are plenty who’d kill for a spot at my side, you know.”