The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

In that moment, he thought to himself that if giving her that pill could buy the girl a bit of happiness, it was worth it.

Citrine hadn't been kidding when she said she'd take Weston out for a good time. When dinner rolled around, Weston told the driver not to bother picking him up. After they finished their meal out, Citrine led Weston straight to an arcade. Standing at the entrance, Weston eyed the neon lights and blaring music with deep suspicion, his brows knitted tight as he instinctively took a few steps back.

"What on earth are you dragging me to a place like this for?" he grumbled, clear disdain in his voice. "It's noisy, crowded-exactly the sort of place that attracts all the wrong people."

Citrine couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Oh, come on. It's just an entertainment center. All the young folks hang out here these days."

Weston scoffed. "No respectable person wastes time in places like this. If you've got time to kill, you should be learning how to run a company, not frittering away your future on mindless games."

His prejudice ran deep, and Citrine knew better than to expect him to change overnight.

Some things just took time.

"Let's go in-try it at least," Citrine said, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the games inside.

"No way." Weston looked downright offended by the suggestion.

"Come on, you'll have fun." Seeing his resistance, Citrine simply grabbed his arm and dragged him through the doors, ignoring his protests.

Once inside, Weston looked awkward, hands clasped behind his back as he wandered around, glancing here and there, everything catching his curious eye.

Citrine, noticing his interest, grinned. "Old man Weston, I bet you never played any of these when you were a kid."

The words hit him square in the chest.

As the sole heir to the Carmichael Group, his childhood had been spent under his parents' strict regime-every day was either a contest of physical endurance or academic achievement.

Places like this were absolutely off-limits. In his parents' eyes, arcades were the devil's playground-a surefire way to ruin one's character.

Citrine disappeared to the front desk and returned with a stack of tokens. Weston was still standing in the same spot, taking everything in with wide-eyed fascination. Citrine took him on a tour around the arcade.

She only stopped when she found something she liked.

Pointing at a giant screen showing a hunter-versus-zombies shooter, she said,

"Old man Weston, how about we try this shooting game?"

Weston was all set to refuse, but when he saw the hopeful look in Citrine's eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say no.

He gave a reluctant nod.noveldrama

Citrine's excitement was palpable.

Words of encouragement tumbled out: "Old man Weston, you're doing great- you're not a party pooper at all. That already puts you ahead of ninety percent of the grandpas out there."

Weston didn't say anything, but his chest swelled with pride.

His granddaughter was actually praising him.

Not a party pooper-he'd never heard that before, but he liked the sound of it.

They each picked up a plastic gun. Citrine, as it turned out, was a sharpshooter- within minutes, she'd blasted the heads off several zombies.

Weston glanced over at her score, then at his own, which was still stubbornly stuck at zero. Suddenly, his competitive streak flared to life.

Predictably, he lost that first round.

But Weston wasn't the type to back down from a challenge. The more he lost, the more determined he became.

Citrine ended up stuck at that shooting game with him for over an hour.

They tried out a bunch of other games, and by the time they finally left, it was late.

Only then did Weston finally ask what he'd been wondering all night. “So, why are you auctioning off Vitaflux?"