THE LOST HEIRESS RETURNS AFTER DIVORCE
Chapter 57: Cliff Redo

Chapter 57: Cliff Redo

"I told you, I’m not trying to have control over you. I asked for your help, I even begged—and you refused," Caius said, his voice calm but firm.

Heather narrowed her eyes. "And you honestly thought I would help you after everything you’ve put me through?"

Caius didn’t respond right away. He just stood there, looking at her, like he was trying to figure her out or find the right words to crack through her anger.

"You think I’m the villain in this story," he finally said, "but you’re worse than me."

Heather crossed her arms. Her eyes burned with disbelief, but she let him continue.

"I know what I’ve done," Caius said, lifting his hands slightly, as if surrendering. "I’ve made horrible choices. I’ve hurt people. I’m not a good man. But haven’t you once considered that I regret everything?"

Heather gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "No. I never thought you did."

He nodded, as if her response confirmed something he’d expected.

"If you truly had even a drop of regret," she said, voice rising slightly, "you wouldn’t be blackmailing me. You wouldn’t be trying to trap me or use me to get what you want. It’s almost like you planned this whole thing from the start."

Caius shook his head. "I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I didn’t want it to come to this. I tried talking to you, but you shut me out, so I did what I had to."

Heather stared at him, her heart pounded with frustration. The way he spoke, it was like she was the one in the wrong. Like he was the victim of her cruelty.

"I’m done with this argument. I’ll sign your damn contract. After that, I don’t want to see you again. You’ll destroy the evidence and stay far away from me. That’s the deal."

He paused, considering her words, and then slowly shook his head. "I don’t like that deal."

"What do you mean you *don’t like* it? I’m giving you what you want."

"And I appreciate that." He smiled—soft, boyish, but infuriatingly calm. "But I never agreed to stay away from you."

Heather’s eyes narrowed into slits. "What are you saying?" she asked sharply, but her chest tightened and her stomach flipped.

There was something in the way he said it that made her feel caught off guard—confused, almost nervous.

Caius didn’t respond immediately. His expression softened, and for the briefest moment, he looked less like the calculating manipulator she’d painted him as, and more like someone who just didn’t want to let go.

"Miss Heather, your break is over. We need you on set." A voice called from behind her.

She turned her head slightly, acknowledging the assistant with a small nod.

"I’ll see you after the rehearsal," Caius said with a grin.

Heather didn’t respond. She acted like she didn’t even hear him. As she walked away, her hands were clenched by her sides—not from fear, but because she hated the flutter in her chest he had caused.

...

Back in the studio, Heather expected the director to scold her for taking more than the thirty minutes he allowed.

But he wasn’t even looking in her direction. He was on the phone, speaking urgently while gesturing toward the crew.

Heather studied him curiously as she approached. Her makeup artist was right behind her, fixing her hair, fluffing it into place.

When the director ended his call, he turned to the crew with an announcement.

"Change of plans," he said. "The agency just called. That scene has been cut. It’s no longer part of the movie."

Heather’s lips curled into a faint smile, but she stayed silent. She wasn’t about to celebrate out loud.

Lauren walked up to her, smirking. "Are you ready to be pushed again?" she asked with a tone dripping in sarcasm.

Clearly, she hadn’t heard the director yet. He hadn’t used the megaphone.

Heather didn’t reply. She didn’t even look at her.

"The new version has Laura falling instead," the director added, still casual, as if it wasn’t a massive shift in the storyline.

Heather let out a dramatic gasp. "Wait, are you saying *Lauren’s* going to be shoved now?"

She turned to Lauren with the brightest smile she could muster, voice filled with false innocence.

"That’s right," the director confirmed with a nod.

Lauren’s head snapped toward him. "Who changed it?" she demanded. Her gaze flicked immediately to Heather, eyes blazing like she was ready to tear her apart.

"Miss H," the director said smoothly.

The name hit the room like ice water. Conversations quieted, the crew exchanged uneasy glances.

Everyone knew the weight that name carried. Lauren’s face lost all color. For a moment, it looked like she might scream—or cry.

Her lips trembled slightly, she looked like she was teetering on the edge of a full-blown meltdown.

Heather’s smile returned, small and satisfied. She didn’t need to say anything, she had already won.

"The story’s about survival," the director continued. "Miss H said it wouldn’t make sense for the main character to keep suffering—it strips the audience of hope. That kind of clarity? That’s why she’s a genius."

He laughed like he’d just heard the best pitch of his life. The crew started to move, preparing for the new scene.

Heather could finally breathe again. Relief swept through her, though her body still held a bit of tension from before.

"Ready in two!" the director called into the megaphone.

Heather stood at the edge of the artificial cliff, her arms folded across her chest. She could hear Lauren breathing hard, each shallow breath louder than the last. It almost made her laugh.

So now she’s scared of being shoved? But she had no problem doing it to me?

Her eyes never left Lauren. She watched as crew members worked around her, adjusting the safety harness and checking the rope for the fall. Lauren was trying to steady her stance, but Heather could see the tension in her legs.

She tied her hair back with a band, her gaze still locked on Lauren. Maybe this moment—pushing her back, just once—would bring the closure she’d been searching for.

Maybe it would make that awful day disappear from her memory.

Lauren turned to her with a fake, tight smile. "I hope this brings you some sort of peace," she said. Then, her smile twisted. "One last thing... try not to cry when you realize you’re still that pathetic little girl even after this."

Heather stepped forward slowly. Lauren flinched, closing her eyes in anticipation.

But the sound of Heather’s footsteps stopped.

Lauren opened one eye, confused. Then she turned fully and spat, "Why aren’t you doing anything, bitch?"

Heather stared at her silently.

"Come on, push me already! Isn’t that what you want? It’ll make you feel better about what happened."

Heather’s voice was calm. "So you admit you pushed me?"

"I never denied it," Lauren said, smug.

"You told the doctors I was drunk. That I tripped."

Lauren shrugged. "Maybe I lied. But can you blame me? People wanted a nice story. And let’s be honest—the truth made me look like a monster."

She tilted her head. "If you knew the truth all along, why didn’t you say anything?"

Heather took a deep breath. "Because no one would have believed me. You were always the perfect one. You could do no wrong. And I wasn’t strong enough to fight that. I didn’t want to go down that road with no proof."

Lauren nodded slowly, her lips curling into a smile. "Exactly. Because I’m the good one. And you’re not."

That was always the case. Lauren—the golden girl—had been idolized by everyone. Even when she was wrong, people twisted things to protect her.

"We’re rolling!" the director called out.

Lauren turned her head toward the voice, then back to Heather. "If I were you, I wouldn’t get too happy. A moment like this won’t make you less of a nobody."

Before she could finish turning back toward the edge, a loud bang echoed from behind the set—someone had dropped a metal case, and everyone flinched.

Lauren turned her head in surprise.

And that’s when Heather shoved her.

It wasn’t hard, but it was perfectly timed. Lauren let out a shriek, her hands flailing as her body tipped off balance.

Her scream was raw and piercing as she stumbled over the edge, missing her step.

She nearly missed the safety platform, her foot slipping against the edge of the foam mat before her harness caught and slowed her fall.

When she landed, her body trembled uncontrollably. Her eyes were wide, her chest heaving like she couldn’t get enough air. Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes.

Heather ran to the edge, looking down at her with a strange calm.

Lauren’s eyes met hers—shocked, scared—but Heather smiled faintly.

Just a small, quiet smile.

Then she turned away.

The scene was done.

As she walked off set, Penny handed her a bottle of water and whispered under her breath, "That was raw. She deserved every second of it."

Heather smiled as she took the water. "I know," she said softly.

Penny gave her a playful nudge. "Still proud of you."

"Hello, Miss Heather."

"Here we go," Penny muttered teasingly before standing. "I’ll leave you two alone." But before she left, she gave Heather a look—a raised eyebrow, and a smirk.

Heather rolled her eyes. "Don’t start."

Penny just laughed and walked away.

"That scene... you really nailed it. Everyone felt it."

"Thanks," Heather replied coolly.

He scratched the back of his head, like he was nervous. "So... would you maybe want to grab a coffee sometime? You know, nothing serious. Just talk."

Heather looked at him for a moment. Jake was attractive, kind. But she wasn’t in that place.

"You’re sweet, but I’m not really looking for that right now."

Jake smiled, not offended. "That’s okay. Just thought I’d ask." Still, his eyes lingered on her, full of something softer—like he was already too far gone to stop liking her. "You should consider it."

"We’re leaving tonight." Caius said, standing close beside her. He barely acknowledged Jake.

"Leaving? What do you mean?" Jake asked.

"It’s a convention. Out of town. Some contract thing." Heather interrupted.

"Jake Calloway." Jake extended his hands to Caius.

Caius looked at it for a while, "Caius Thorne." He didn’t accept his handshake.

"Let’s go."

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