The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

The sting on her cheek was burning, but suddenly, Leda had a new idea.

Right in front of everyone, she collapsed dramatically to the floor, clutching her face and wailing, "Ms. Carmichael, how could you hit me? Even if I accidentally knocked over the cake, you can't just slap me!"

Her voice rang out loud and shrill, her cries exaggerated and desperate, drawing a crowd almost instantly.

People began murmuring, each with their own reaction.

"Wow, and here I thought the Saunders family's heiress was some kind of saint. Turns out she's an abuser at heart. Who hits someone over a piece of cake?"

"It was just an accident-a cake can be replaced! But hitting someone? That's completely out of line."

In the midst of lively conversation with a few guests, Hilda heard the commotion. Her brow furrowed as she made her way over.

She spotted Leda sitting on the floor and couldn't help but ask, "Leda, why are you sitting there?"

Hearing the concern in Hilda's voice, Leda felt a surge of satisfaction. She'd always known Ms. Saunders cared about her. So what if Citrine was her real daughter? They'd only been reunited for a few days-how much affection could there possibly be?noveldrama

Ms. Saunders and her mother had been lifelong friends, and Hilda had treated Leda almost like her own child, covering all her expenses every year. Every summer, Leda would stay with Ms. Saunders for weeks at a time; once, Hilda had even talked about making her an official goddaughter.

With all that love, surely that wouldn't change just because her real daughter had come back.

Putting on her most pitiful face, Leda sniffled and complained to Hilda, "Ms. Saunders, I'm so sorry. I accidentally knocked the cake out of my sister's hands."

She paused, then added in a tiny, trembling voice, "She got really mad and slapped me. My face hurts so much."

“But it's not really her fault,” Leda added quickly, as if defending Citrine, though her tone dripped with wounded innocence. "She probably didn't mean it."

Hilda's expression darkened, her features growing colder with every word. After years in the business world, she'd seen every manner of manipulator-this kind of petty drama was nothing new. A bit of cunning in a young woman was understandable, but not when it was turned against her own daughter.

Leda was her

er best friend's

child-Hilda had watched her grow up. After her own daughter

disappeared all those years ago net

Leda and her mother had often visited to comfort her. Hilda bad always remembered that kindness, and, at her friend's urging, had once even considered making Leda her goddaughter.

She'd truly loved this girl, once. But hearing her now, slinging accusations at Citrine, every drop of that affection vanished.

In Hilda's heart, Citrine would always come first.

She was about to set the record straight when she suddenly caught sight of her daughter's eyes. Citrine looked uncertain, anxious, and deeply worried.

Hilda understood at once her daughter must think she'd take Leda's side.

Afraid Citrine might misunderstand further, Hilda felt an urgent need to reassure her.

Turning to Leda, her voice frosty as ice, she snapped, "Enough."

Then, fixing her gaze on her daughter standing quietly to the side, she said gently but firmly, "Citrine, tell me exactly what happened. I only trust your word."