The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

It was always the same either some bloated, greasy middle-aged man or a

lecherous old creep. The few wealthy clients who were actually good-looking and fit all had walls up so high, Jeanette couldn't get within a mile of them.

Lately, when she was selling drinks at the club, Jeanette let the bosses get handsy, even going so far as to cozy up to them if it meant a bigger tip. Everything she did was calculated-every smile, every touch, every late night—just to pocket

a little extra cash so she could invest in herself and claw her way out.

A few days later, Jeanette found herself crouched in a bathroom stall, eavesdropping on her manager's phone call in the next stall over.

"You mean Mr. Gorman?" the manager's voice was tight, respectful. "Mr. Gorman is coming tomorrow? Don't worry, I'll make sure he's well taken care of."

The way the manager spoke about this Mr. Gorman-deference threading every word-Jeanette made a mental note. That name could mean opportunity.

That night, the club was scrubbed spotless from top to bottom, and the manager gathered the entire staff. "We're receiving a distinguished guest tonight," he announced, voice grave. Jeanette listened, but her mind was already racing with possibilities.

In May, Carlotta called Citrine.

"Citrine, someone paid Jeanette's penalty fee and took her away from Neon Hive."

Citrine was still tangled in her sheets, brain foggy, until Carlotta's words sharpened her focus. She sat up, face cooling.

"What happened?" she asked, voice flat.

"Apparently Jeanette's hooked up with a Mr. Gorman. He's no ordinary man. Didn't take long before he took her home."

Citrine's eyes grew cold. "Did you find out who this Mr. Gorman is?"

"No," Carlotta admitted, "I couldn't dig up anything on him except his last name-Gorman. He just returned from abroad, and year's ago, he was close friends with the CEO of Stellaris Group."

That was all Citrine needed to hear. If Carlotta couldn't find anything, the man's background must be formidable.

"Forget Jeanette for now," Citrine said after a pause. “Let her have her fun. She won't escape my grasp in the end."

She almost laughed. Jeanette-the ultimate survivor-would do anything, say anything, to get what she wanted.

Meanwhile, in the Crestwood luxury estates, Jeanette was back to her old, dazzling self. Every inch of her was dressed in custom designer-her outfit alone worth a fortune. Living in the villa these past days, she'd slipped right back into the pampered life of a socialite.

But something about Mr. Gorman puzzled her. He'd rescued her, brought her home, but never once laid a finger on her. No matter how hard she tried to catch his eye, she got nowhere.

Just before noon, Gorman Saunders strolled down the staircase, unhurried.

Jeanette heard his footsteps and turned, her eyes lighting up as soon as he appeared. "Good morning, Mr. Gorman." She flashed him a perfect, charming smile.

He barely glanced at her. "Morning. You're up early."noveldrama

His tone was neutral, but for him, it was almost friendly.

Jeanette couldn't read him at all. Treading carefully, she said, "Mr. Gorman, I wasn't sure what you liked, so I made a few things for breakfast."

Gorman glanced at the table, frowned. "There are maids here. You don't need to cook. If you want something, just tell them."

Jeanette's finishing school training kicked in. Faced with a man as aloof as Mr. Gorman, the best tactic was to look vulnerable, innocent-a delicate flower in need of protection.