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The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

Chapter 171
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Chapter 172 Raymond watched helplessly as young Citrine was battered and bloodied by the group. His heart ached so fiercely it felt as if someone was squeezing it in their fist. For a split second, he almost wished she'd just go along with them-if only she'd cooperate, maybe they'd stop beating her.

But his daughter was born with a fiery heart and an unbreakable spirit. Citrine refused to bow, no matter what. She would never cross the line into breaking the law.

When the island's leader realized Citrine was too stubborn and feared she might be killed-leaving no one to write code for him-he eventually called off the beatings.

A few days later, Citrine was moved into a cramped dorm room designed for four. Inside were four men and one woman; with Citrine, a child, they made five.

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No one cut Citrine any slack because of her age. In fact, they seemed to resent her all the more.

That night, Citrine tried to climb up to the empty top bunk, seeking a little peace. The moment she set foot on the ladder, a powerful kick sent her tumbling hard across the slick floor.

Stunned and bruised, she looked up and saw her attacker-a middle-aged man in glasses, looking down at her with utter contempt.

"Why did you push me?" Citrine demanded, limping to her feet and facing him head-on.

"Stay out of my way. That's where I keep my stuff." He scowled, tossing his belongings up onto the bunk for emphasis.

"But that bed was assigned to me," Citrine insisted, still not understanding the cruel pecking order of this place. "Assigned? Around here, I make the rules." With that, he slapped her hard across the face, then yanked her by the hair and shoved her head into a barrel of water in the corner.

Citrine couldn't swim. She thrashed and struggled desperately under the water, but her strength faded. Only when she went limp did the man finally let go.

The other four in the room watched, faces blank, not a flicker of concern.

Citrine woke up the next morning, shaken by her helplessness. That night, she gave up on the bunk and laid her bedding out on the floor.

The man never took his eyes off her. After washing his feet, he dumped the dirty water right over Citrine's makeshift bed.

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Citrine seethed in silence, afraid to say a word.

Her bed soaked, she spent the night crouched in a cold corner. After two days, she'd pieced together who everyone was.

The man who'd held her under was named Sellers-a doctor, brilliant in medicine and pharmaceuticals, invaluable to the island's leader. He ruled the room.

Then there was Una, a middle-aged woman, an expert in medical equipment and high-tech devices, second only to Sellers in authority.

The other two men were Farris, an older doctor who'd seen every rare disease imaginable and Hanson, NO Sellers' assistant-quiet and overlooked like Citrine, but clearly someone with valuable skills. Citrine understood: to have a voice here, she had to becstronger, more indispensable.

So she started approaching the others, going out of her way to be of helpful anything to learn what she could about medicine from them.

At first, they dismissed her as a weak, ignorant child. But soon, they realized Citrine's talent for medicine was nothing short of extraordinary.