After leaving, Citrine dragged her suitcase straight to The Carmichael Group.

In her previous life, she''d only learned by ident-from Aline''s slip of the tongue -that her biological father was Raymond Carmichael. But by then, she''d lost all hope for family ties and had never even considered seeking him out.

But now, she was still underage. She needed a legal guardian.

Security at The Carmichael Group was notoriously tight. Without an appointment, there was no way inside. Citrine knew this all too well, so she simply settled herself outside the entrance to wait.

Dusk deepened, and the city lights flickered on.

At first, the security guards on shift tried to shoo her away. But after noticing the quiet, stubborn way she just sat there, they eventually gave up.

Citrine stared nkly at the steady stream of peopleing and going, lost in thought.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream shattered the night, followed by a heavy thud that snapped Citrine out of her daze.

"Mr. Carmichael, please, I''m sorry! Have mercy, I was forced into this. If I didn''t hand over the project files, they said they''d kill my son!"

A middle-aged man was sprawled on the floor, groveling and bowing so desperately that blood from his forehead stained the marble tiles.

"Mr. Easton, what are you talking about? When have I ever made things difficult for you?" The man in front of him-Raymond Carmichael-let a cold, faint smile y at the edges of his lips, never reaching his eyes.

"Mr. Carmichael, I''m begging you. I know I was wrong. I''ll do anything to make it up-even die, if that''s what it takes. Just... please, spare my family," Easton pleaded, still on his knees.

But Raymond''s heart was ice.

"Then go and die," he said tly.

Raymond stared down at Easton like he was nothing but an insect. "You should have thought about the consequences before you betrayed me."

Easton''s heart froze; despair overwhelmed him, and heshed out in desperation. "Raymond, you''re a monster! You''ll get what''sing to you. Someday, your own children will suffer in hell because of you."

"I won''t have children," Raymond replied without a hint of emotion, waving a hand dismissively. "Enough noise. Get him out of here."

At hismand, the bodyguards hauled Easton away.

Citrine couldn''t help but shiver.

She''d seen that chiseled, handsome face before—more than once, sshed across financial news magazines. Raymond Carmichael was more striking than any actor she''d ever seen, even at thirty-seven, without a single mark of age marring his features.

She locked her gaze on his tall, imposing figure. Steeling herself, Citrine picked up her suitcase and hurried after him.

"Raymond," she called out softly, her young voice still holding a trace of innocence.

She wore simple clothes, but her face was startlingly beautiful. Raymond had seen his fair share of pretty girls, but the sight of this one still caught him off guard -her beauty was unforgettable.

But no matter how lovely, he still couldn''t stand kids.

He frowned and his voice was cold. "You talking to me, kid?"

Citrine looked him straight in the eye, her tone t as she introduced herself: "My name is Citrine. I''m your daughter."

Thest two words made Raymond''s expression darken; something dangerous shed in his eyes.

Another con artist, he thought.

His voice turned icy, tinged with impatience. "I''ve never even been married. How could I possibly have a daughter your age?"

Citrine didn''t flinch. "I''m not lying. I really am your daughter. If you want, you can have a DNA test done."

Raymond studied her, momentarily thrown off. Those eyes... they looked strangely familiar, as if he''d seen them somewhere before.

But he quickly masked his reaction, his gaze narrowing and turning even colder. "Who sent you?"

The sharpness in his eyes was like a de, cutting straight through Citrine''s heart. The glimmer in her own eyes dimmed.

She kept her voice steady. "No one sent me. I''m telling the truth."

Seeing no change in his expression, Citrine quickly added, "I can make my own money. You don''t have to support me."

She was under no illusions that Raymond would ever care for her, but he was still her best chance to finally break free from the Iverson family.

Calming herself, Citrine shifted into negotiation mode.

"I know The Carmichael Group has been working on medical robotics for five

years now, but hasn''t made any real progress."

That made Raymond''s expression waver for the first time.

The medical robotics project was one of The Carmichael Group''s most tightly- guarded secrets-never made public, and each attempt so far had ended in failure. Only a handful of core staff inside thepany knew any details. He eyed the girl with new wariness. "How do you know about that?" Citrine held his gaze, giving away nothing. She''d guessed as much, drawing on her past life as a powerhouse in the business world-making these kinds of deductions came naturally to her.

Noting his hesitation, she pressed on: "I have the patent for this project. You''ll be interested. I can sell it to The Carmichael Group."

Raymond''s eyes shed with shock. He looked at Citrine again, doubt flickering across his face. She was just a kid-how could she possibly know any of this? Maybe she''d overheard something from someone else.

Realizing he''d almost let himself get drawn in by this strange girl, he gave a short, dismissiveugh.

"Kids should focus on their studies. Stay out of things that don''t concern you." "My time is valuable."

And at that moment, Citrine finally understood: he was never going to believe her.