The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 316

After Dick finished speaking, he wrapped his arms around his wife and daughter, and without a backward glance, led them inside.

This time, Sawyer didn’t try to stop him.

He wandered home in a daze, only to find Clifford sprawled on the couch, bruised and battered. Sawyer’s face changed instantly. He rushed over. “Weren’t you supposed to be at work? What happened to you?”

“I ran into Citrine,” Clifford said, barely lifting his eyelids, his eyes empty and tired.

Sawyer blinked in surprise. “Citrine? What does she have to do with your injuries?”

Clifford shook his head. “Nothing. I just fell. Serves me right, anyway.”

But Sawyer could guess the truth without being told.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Citrine won’t acknowledge us anymore. I guess we have to accept it.”

Clifford glanced at him. “Where’d you go today, Dad?”

The mention of Jeanette made Sawyer’s face darken, but he didn’t bother to hide it. “I went to see Jeanette.”

Clifford’s temper flared. He ignored his own pain, snapping at Sawyer, “You went to her again? She can’t wait to cut us all off, and you still chase after her.”

He gave a humorless laugh. “Let me guess—she humiliated you, didn’t she?”

Sawyer’s face was grim. He said nothing.

After a moment, Clifford spoke up suddenly. “Dad, why are you so obsessed with Jeanette? The only reason is because she’s your biological daughter.”

“Because Citrine isn’t, you never tried to bring her back the way you did with Jeanette, no matter how blameless she was when she left the Iverson family. You never called for her, never begged her to come home. Just because she’s not really yours.”

“Enough!” Sawyer’s tone was sharp, his expression shifting.

At six, she’d wake up early to make sure he ate breakfast before work.

At seven, when he was hospitalized with stomach trouble, she’d cry and refuse to go to school, insisting on staying by his side to take care of him.

At eight, she’d sit quietly in the living room, always leaving a light on, waiting up for him until she fell asleep.

At nine, she’d snatch the cigarettes from his hand and toss them out. “Smoking’s bad, Daddy. I want you to be healthy.”

At ten, when his stomach flared up again, she’d make a pot of warm soup for him herself.

At eleven…

Ah yes, when she was eleven, he sent her overseas.

All those memories, clear as day, played in his mind now, and Sawyer’s heart ached as if it were being squeezed.