NovelEnglishChapter 170 "Dad, please, you have to believe me! I'm telling the truth!" Citrine's voice shook, threaded with panic and the edge of tears.
But Sawyer still refused to listen; his tone turned colder, almost menacing. "Citrine, I thought sending you overseas would make you grow up a little, but you're getting more and more out of line." With that, Sawyer hung up.
Citrine's composure crumbled. She redialed, desperate-only for the line to go dead the moment she called.
Her face drained of color, and her hands trembled.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtJust then, the man in the room rose and sauntered over. He plucked the phone from Citrine's grip. "See? You've been abandoned." He barely finished speaking before grabbing a fistful of her hair and dragging her toward the window.
They were on the top floor-high enough for the entire manor to unfold below them. Right at the center, a row of bloodied bodies hung upside down, their gruesforms horrifyingly clear from this height. The agony twisted on their faces was unmistakable, even from a distance.
Citrine's breath caught in her throat. Terror flickered in her eyes; she couldn't stop shaking.
She'd always known this place was dangerous, but she'd never imagined they would murder people so brazenly, in plain sight.
The man admired the carnage with a satisfied smile. "Don't even think about escaping. The next body they hang up there will be yours." A chill ran through Citrine. She forced herself to nod, swallowing her fear.
The next few days blurred together. She was locked alone in a small, bare room, until finally, several men-led by the island's owner-cto fetch her. They brought her to a clinical, sterile room that reeked of antiseptic.
The owner glanced at Citrine, his gaze indifferent, then addressed the man in the white coat. "The buyer's in a hurry. Get started." Something clicked in Citrine's mind. Her face went white as chalk.
She fought to steady herself, then summoned the courage to ask, "What are you going to do to me?" The man ignored her question, signaling to his henchmen. Two of them seized her, hoisting her onto the metal table.
She thrashed and kicked, but she was only eleven-no match for two grown men.
The owner looked almost sympathetic. "Doesn't matter when you die. Sooner or later, everyone here does. But your heart, kid, that's already been sold. Don't struggle, or it'll just hurt more." A leaden dread settled in Citrine's chest. "But...I don't want to die." By now, the man in the lab coat had pressed a scalpel to her chest, the cold metal biting against her skin-right above her heart.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmJust as he was about to cut, Citrine lashed out, knocking the scalpel from his hand.
Her gaze darted to the owner, who'd watched the scene like a bored m a spectator. She clung to him with her eyes, desperate for hope. They wanted her heart to sell for cash. Swallowing her fear, Citrine tried to bargain. "Wait-I know how to make medicine. I can code. I've even done research on medical devices. I can earn way more money for you alive than if you just sell my heart." The owner hesitated, then nodded for the doctor to pause.
Citrine exhaled in relief, her heartbeat slowing just a little.
The owner stepped closer, a half-amused, half-doubtful smile on his lips. And why should I trust slittle kid?" "Givea computer. I'll prove it." Citrine met his eyes, her tone serious.
She'd wanted to mention her skills with pharmaceuticals and medical equipment, but she knew she wasn't expert enough to convince him. Coding, though-that was her real talent, her ace in the hole.
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