The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 768

After coming to an agreement with Ogden, Citrine asked Wade to send her luggage over to the Vermillion Vanguard headquarters.

Today, Citrine had already mapped out the Vermillion Vanguard’s mission to Mirage Cay, assigning each member their specific roles. Yet, as she considered the risks ahead, a heaviness settled in her chest.

This mission was perilous—danger hanging over them like a storm cloud. It was the kind of operation where every soldier was staking their life.

Because of this, Citrine decided to host a team dinner that night, giving everyone a chance to unwind together. The following day, she’d let the squad go home to see their families—just in case.

That evening, after some discussion, they decided to keep things informal and eat together in the mess hall.

When Citrine arrived, the soldiers rose as one.

“Boss, you’re here.”

She nodded to them, signaling everyone to sit before taking a seat beside Sherman.

With a major operation looming and their fates uncertain, tonight was their chance to let loose—if only for a few hours, drowning their worries in good drink.

Citrine raised her glass. “Tonight, we drink till we can’t stand.”

A chorus of raised glasses followed. “Drink till we drop!”

Soon, the conversation turned to funny stories from past training sessions.

“Boss, remember when you first started leading us? We didn’t take you seriously—thought you were too young, and spent all our time trying to prank you. In the end, you got the best of us every time.”

“I still remember how ridiculous we looked back then,” someone else chimed in, grinning. “Honestly, it’s hilarious in hindsight.”

Laughter rippled around the table, Citrine joining in. Those days had been tough, but they were also some of the most unforgettable moments of their military lives.

The night wore on in a haze of stories and laughter, everyone savoring the rare camaraderie and release.

Citrine was just as happy as the rest of them.

Then, one of the soldiers suddenly stood up. “Who knows if we’ll ever get to share a drink like this again? Let’s have another round.”

That was Rowell. He was a farm boy through and through—big, honest, and as unassuming as his name suggested.

His words brought the whole table to a sudden hush. No one spoke; the mess hall fell into a heavy silence.

Then Citrine broke it.

“Row’s right. This mission is a one-in-ten chance. Are any of you afraid?” Her tone was light, as if she were just asking what they’d had for dinner.

The response was immediate and indignant.

Sherman spoke first, his voice steady. “What’s to be afraid of? We’re part of the Vermillion Vanguard. Our duty is to take on missions for our country. If we have to give our lives, then so be it—we’d do it without regret.”