The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 565

Citrine didn’t let the unfriendly comments in her stream get under her skin. She understood—after all, she was a newcomer, so it was only natural for people to be skeptical.

Looking at the chat, Citrine addressed them calmly, “I’m not here to scam anyone or make money. Consultations are free—there’s no charge.”

With that, she ended the livestream.

The past couple of days, the hospital’s wards had been packed with patients suffering from severe cases of the flu. There wasn’t a single room left.

Citrine had already worked out the best treatment plans for the most critical patients. For those whose organs were under attack by the virus, she’d even put together specialized surgical protocols.

Her initial plan was to use the livestream to help more people understand how to manage the early stages of the illness, but since that hadn’t gone well, she quickly moved on to plan B.

That evening, she had the Crestwood Medical Research Center release a public announcement: any reputable public or private hospital interested in collaborating was welcome to partner with Crestwood.

Within half an hour, hospitals big and small from cities all over reached out to discuss working together.

With so many hospitals joining forces, Citrine felt confident that they’d get this wave of flu under control soon.

That day, as Citrine stepped out of the Weston and Raymond family’s private suite, she heard a commotion in the main lobby.

Frowning slightly, she walked toward the noise. As she reached the front desk, a familiar voice caught her ear.

“Where’s the director? I need to see the director.”

“We’re the Saunders. Our aunt is in critical condition—she’s unconscious. Please, can you make an exception and let her be admitted?”

“We’ll pay whatever it takes. Just give us a room.”

The receptionist looked apologetic but kept her tone polite. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re completely full today. There aren’t any rooms left in the hospital.”

Monica and Wade—siblings—went pale. Monica clung to a shred of hope as she pleaded, “Could I at least speak to your director?”