NovelUSAChapter 461 Hilda's heart warmed as she watched her daughter anxiously eyeing her injured hand. In that moment, she almost wished the burn were worse-just to win a bit more of her daughter's sympathy.
The angry red mark on her hand stood out starkly, making Hilda wince. She quickly pulled herself together and turned to her daughter. "Cupstairs with me. Let's take care of this." Right now, all Hilda could think about was her daughter, so she followed without question, standing up and heading upstairs alongside her.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtOnce there, Citrine rummaged through the hallway cabuntil she found the best burn ointment they had. Sitting across from her mother, she took Hilda's hand, gently pulling it closer, then began to dab the cooling cream onto the burn, bit by bit.
Noticing Hilda watching her so intently, Citrine assumed she was worried. "Don't worry," she said softly. "It won't leave a scar." Scars were the last thing on Hilda's mind. All she could feel was her daughter's care-a tenderness hidden beneath that calm, detached exterior. For the first time, Hilda sensed the soft heart beneath Citrine's cool surface.
Just then, a sudden sound broke the stillness.
Citrine looked up at Hilda, but Hilda flushed with embarrassment and quickly pressed a hand to her stomach, glancing sheepishly at her daughter. After hours in the kitchen, she was absolutely starving.
Citrine chuckled. "What do you want to eat? I'll make us something." Hilda blinked in surprise. "You know how to cook?" She'd always known Citrine grew up as the Iversons' adopted daughter before reconnecting with her biological father, Raymond. The Iversons were wealthy-at least before their bankruptcy-and the Carmichael family even more so. Hilda had always assumed her daughter had never needed to lift a finger in the kitchen. But reality, it seemed, was different.
Citrine gave her a small nod. "Yeah, I can cook." She handed Hilda the TV remote. "Put something on and relax. I'll go start dinner." After Citrine left for the kitchen, Hilda's cat wandered in. This time, the little creature didn't startle her instead, it meowed sweetly at feet. Hilda had managed to hconquer her fear of cats recently-adopting one herself had helped. Now, when Citrine's kitten approached, she reached out a hand, her voice warm. "Chere, little one. Csit with Grandma." As if it understood, the kitten hopped onto the sofa and settled down beside her.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmHilda noticed the golden tag hanging from the kitten's collar. She picked it up, squinting at the tiny engraved words: Citrine, happy birthday. Love, Dad-always.
This cat had been a birthday gift from Raymond. Hilda's heart twisted-not just with sadness, but with jealousy. She envied Raymond for being there to celebrate Citrine's birthday, envied him for recognizing her as his daughter before Hilda ever had the chance. They seemed close-so close, it frightened her. What if she lost Citrine for good?
In the kitchen, Citrine was already busy preparing dinner when Hilda wandered in. "Is there anything I can help with?" Hilda offered.
Citrine handed her a couple of garlic cloves. "You can peel these for me."
As Hilda worked on the garlic, she watched Citrine chop vegetables with practiced ease, as if she'd done it a E thousand times before. Hilda hesitated, then asked,ve to cook for yourself at the Carmichaels'?"
Her tone was sharper than she intended-anger simmering beneath her words. The thought of GeÐ M ve daughter having to fend for herself in that household made her want to tear the Carmichaels apart with her bare hands.
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