The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

Mr. Rogers squinted, absolutely certain. "No doubt about it—our CEO's in love."

Mr. Fuller let out a low whistle. "He's so smitten, he's put his own company on the back burner just to work at someone else's. Our boss is head-over-heels-it's a full-blown case of lovesickness."

"I mean, I'm genuinely curious now. What kind of woman could have our workaholic CEO so bewitched that he doesn't even care about his career anymore? Back in the day, a woman like that would have been accused of bringing down the kingdom-a real femme fatale."

That evening, Hilda called, inviting her home for dinner-it was a Saunders family gathering tonight.

Citrine had been living with the Saunders long enough to feel at home by now, all the old awkwardness and reserve gone.

When she got back, Citrine tossed her bag aside like always and went straight to look for her cat.

Before moving in, Citrine had asked if she could bring Happy with her, and everyone agreed. Hilda, who'd never really liked cats before, instantly transformed into a total cat enthusiast once Happy arrived.

Crestwood spoiled Happy with treats, and Hilda, almost every evening after work, would scoop Happy up-no matter how much the cat protested and smother him with kisses, like some overbearing matriarch determined to shower her pet with love.

Under Hilda's relentless affection, Happy had gotten noticeably chubbier; now, Citrine could barely lift him with one arm.

Sprawled barefoot on the sofa, Citrine cradled Happy and lazily waved a cat toy for him to chase.

Happy was full of energy and always cooperative with Citrine. All it took was a simple feather wand to get him leaping and twisting, absolutely delighted.

But to anyone else watching, it didn't look like she was entertaining the cat-if anything, it seemed like Happy was humoring her.

The scene between girl and cat was peaceful and heartwarming.

The Saunders family watched, feeling a glow of contentment they'd never known before; for a moment, they were utterly transfixed.

Citrine didn't notice anything

unusual at first, not until she grew tired of the game and glanced up-only to find several pairs of eyes at the dining table fixed squarely on her. sŵnovel

She froze, suddenly self-conscious.

Grandparents, mother, brother, sister-those faces she was used to seeing. But there was someone else, a man she barely recognized.

Nigel. Her uncle, whom she'd only met once before.

Awkwardly smoothing her skirt, Citrine sat up straighter on the couch.

"Uncle Nigel," she greeted politely.

Nigel was still caught up in the lovely scene he'd just witnessed, lost in thought.

He only snapped back to the present when he heard Citrine address him.

"Citrine," Nigel said warmly.

The moment had been so beautiful, full of light and comfort. He hadn't created anything so full of warmth in years hadn't even felt the inspiration to try. But just now, unexpectedly, a spark had returned. noveldrama

He was sick of painting gloomy, somber pieces-those works drained every bit of his energy, leaving him exhausted for days.

after. But now, ideas bubbled

up in

his mind, desperate to be put on

canvas.

Noticing Nigel still looking at her, Citrine felt he probably had something on his mind.

She bit her lip and asked, "Uncle Nigel, is there something you wanted to say to me?"

Nigel's voice was a little unsteady as he stepped forward, earnest. "Citrine, I want to paint you."

"Paint me?" Citrine repeated, startled.

He nodded. "Yes. You inspired me just now I want to capture that moment on canvas."