THE LOST HEIRESS RETURNS AFTER DIVORCE
Chapter 63: It’s tooth broke off

Chapter 63: It’s tooth broke off

Heather jerked back instinctively, her breath catching in her throat as the serpent revealed itself in full. It was long and sinuous, its dark, iridescent scales catching the dim light in a way that made it look almost wet.

Its body curled slowly around the glass display case, moving like a ribbon in water. Heather’s stomach tightened.

She had never been particularly afraid of snakes, but there was something deeply wrong about finding one here, of all places.

"Who keeps a snake in an office?" she muttered under her breath.

The snake’s tongue flicked out lazily, testing the air, but it didn’t move aggressively. It simply wrapped itself tighter around the display case—as if guarding what was inside. The necklace.

Heather took a cautious step backward, eyes still locked on the creature.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and tried to steady herself. The room felt ten degrees warmer.

Her hands had started to sweat. She glanced around for anything she could use, something to distract herself from the creature and the strange mixture of emotions tangling in her chest.

Her eyes landed on the desk across the room.

A mess of papers sat neatly arranged across the surface—too neatly, in fact. It didn’t look like someone had just worked there.

It looked like someone had arranged it *to* look like work had just been done. Heather walked over, still keeping an eye on the snake, and tried to settle her nerves.

She bent down slightly and began picking up the papers she had accidentally scattered earlier when she backed away from the snake.

As she reached for the last sheet, her hand grazed a coffee mug sitting on the edge of the desk.

It wobbled dangerously, and before she could stop it, it tilted. A small amount of its contents spilled across the desk, dark and rich and still warm.

Heather winced.

She grabbed a nearby cloth and dabbed at the spill. She hadn’t meant to make a mess. Her eyes swept over the papers again to make sure they weren’t ruined.

Then she turned back to the snake and the case. Since it was locked, it meant the key was around here, she reached for one of the drawers and that was when she saw it—a sealed folder tucked neatly into the corner of one of the drawers.

Unlike the polished, impersonal contents of the rest of the room, this document looked personal. Deliberately hidden. Heather hesitated, then slowly pulled it out.

The folder was heavier than she expected.

She glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting someone to stop her, then opened it.

The contents were unexpected—and confusing.

Inside were detailed financial records, copies of wire transfers, and a lengthy background report. The name at the top jumped out at her: Falcon Brothers.

She had never heard the name before, but the documents made one thing clear—Caius had been sending this group thousands of dollars.

Regularly and quietly. She told him to spend his money wisely and this was what he did. Each transfer was marked as "consulting services" or "logistical coordination," but Heather knew corporate language well enough to recognize padding when she saw it.

She read on.

Near the back of the file, the name of a criminal agency appeared—Iron Vein Syndicate—a name that made her blood go cold.

She had come across it once on the news, something buried in a legal scandal involving arms trafficking and black-market surveillance equipment.

It was the kind of group that operated in shadows, using corporations as covers for deeply illegal work.

Her fingers turned the page again, heart pounding now. There was an agreement. A legitimate, signed agreement between VestorCorp, Caius’s company, and a shell company clearly connected to Iron Vein. The paper trail was subtle, but it was there.

Why would Caius risk something like this?

If this ever reached the public, his career would be over. His name, his company, everything he had built—it would be ruined.

Heather placed the papers back on the desk, her hand trembling slightly. She didn’t know what she had just stumbled into, but it felt enormous. Too big for a room like this and too big for the moment.

Still unsettled, she digged deeper in the drawer. Her fingers brushed against a small object inside—a key.

She lifted it slowly. It was silver, simple, and cold to the touch. She looked over at the display case again. The snake was still coiled around it, but its head was resting now, unmoving.

Heather glanced down at the coffee mug, then at the liquid still steaming gently inside.

She had been eyeing it since she entered the room. The surface was a creamy, pleasant beige color—almost the exact shade she preferred.

It looked like something she would’ve made for herself. She lifted the mug and took a cautious sip.

The taste was bitter.

Extremely bitter.

She almost grimaced. How could something that looked so smooth taste like this? She was suddenly certain—absolutely certain—that her own coffee would’ve been better. She set the mug back down and refocused her attention on the display case.

The snake was still there. Still in the way.

She scanned the room again until her eyes landed on Caius’s jacket hanging over a nearby chair.

The idea came to her quickly. She pulled the jacket down carefully, then, after a moment of hesitation, tossed it gently over the snake.

The creature barely reacted.

Heather edged closer, then slowly—very slowly—lifted the glass lid. She reached in, her hand brushing the velvet base as she carefully tried to pick the lock with the small key she had found.

No way.

She tried again, but then the jacket shifted in her hands. And she froze.

The snake was still tangled in the fabric, but it began to slither downward—toward her wrist.

"Nope. Nope, nope," she muttered, backing away in a panic.

She tried to shake the snake off, but it clung to the jacket stubbornly, its muscles coiled tightly around the fabric.

Heather stumbled slightly, dragging the jacket—and the snake—toward the tank in the corner of the room.

The tank’s lid was partially open. She leaned down, still struggling, and tried to drop the snake in, but the creature refused to let go.

Finally, she shook the jacket harder.

The door to the room burst open.

Heather spun around, guilt flooding her face, the snake still hanging off the jacket in her hand.

Caius stood in the doorway, his expression hard and unreadable.

Behind him, the same maid who had brought Heather stood half-hidden, eyes wide and full of caution.

Traitor.

Caius’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him.

"What," he said slowly, "are you doing in here?"

Heather didn’t have an answer.

She had no right to be here. She hadn’t asked for permission. And now she stood in the middle of his office, his jacket tangled with a snake, his private files on the desk, and his coffee half-finished.

Her heart dropped lower when the snake suddenly struck, sinking its teeth into the flesh of her hand.

"Ouch." Heather cried out in pain, pulling her hand back in reflex. Her body twisted slightly as she stumbled against the desk, her free hand gripping the edge.

Caius’s eyes widened, and in two long strides he was beside her. He grabbed the snake, yanked it free from her wrist, and with a sharp motion, flung it across the room. The creature hit the ground with a soft thud and immediately curled in on itself.

"Get rid of it," he said to the maid without looking back.

She moved quickly to obey.

Caius turned back to Heather, who was now holding her hand tightly against her chest.

"Let me see," he said, reaching gently for her wrist.

Heather hesitated, but the pain was sharp and unrelenting. She slowly released her grip, letting him examine the bite.

His brows knit together as he looked at the wound. "Its tooth broke off inside your hand," he said calmly, though his voice was tight.

"Is it poisonous?" Heather asked, flinching.

"No," he said, just as calmly, but still focused. "The pain’s from the broken tooth. I need to get it out."

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