THE LOST HEIRESS RETURNS AFTER DIVORCE
Chapter 64: I can explain

Chapter 64: I can explain

[This Chapter is dedicated to Lady Jan4959! Thank you for your golden ticket, love]

Without waiting for her to respond, he stood and moved to the drawer behind his desk. He returned with a small first aid kit and a metal instrument—something thin, with a grip, like the kind doctors used to remove bullets or extract things from ears.

Heather’s eyes widened.

The moment she saw it, she pulled her hand away, shaking her head. "No. Nope. No way."

Caius didn’t argue.

He simply extended his palm and said, "Let me see," with a tone that left little room for negotiation.

Heather hesitated again, then slowly placed her hand in his.

She looked away, bracing herself.

Caius leaned in, working quietly. The instrument pinched lightly, then pushed, then twisted.

Heather winced and clenched her jaw. She shut her eyes tight, feeling the sharp sting of the removal. A tear welled up, uninvited. The pain flared—then stopped.

She opened one eye and turned her head.

He was already holding up the tiny snake tooth in the metal clamp, now extracted.

He dropped it into the waste bin beside the desk, then quickly cleaned the wound and wrapped her hand in a clean bandage.

He stepped into the bathroom afterward to wash his hands. The sound of water running filled the brief silence.

Heather stared at the bandage around her palm. It was neat. Almost surgical.

When Caius returned, she looked up at him.

"What were you doing in here?" he asked finally, wiping his hands on a towel.

"I came for that," she said, pointing toward the display case.

He followed her gaze.

Walking over, he pulled a thin silver chain from around his own neck. A key hung at the end. He slid it into the display case’s lock and turned it gently.

Then he picked up the necklace and placed it in her palm.

"I was keeping it for you," he said quietly.

Heather stared down at the necklace, her fingers curling protectively around it.

"Thank you," she said, softer than before.

Heather held the necklace tightly in her palm, the metal warming quickly against her skin. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

She couldn’t. For so long, she had assumed this piece of her mother was lost forever—another memory swallowed up by the chaos that had followed her death.

It had been the only thing she managed to keep when Evelyn came in and stripped the house of everything that belonged to her mother.

And even that, she thought, had slipped through her fingers. She hadn’t dared to come back for it when she left Caius’s house.

But here it was, not tossed aside, he had locked it away.

She wasn’t sure how that made her feel. There was gratitude, yes, but also confusion. Because if he cared enough to keep it safe, why hadn’t he just returned it?

Before she could think too deeply, the door to the room opened again. This time, several maids entered, pushing a long metal rack filled with clothes on hangers.

Dresses, dozens of them. Some long and flowing, others sleek and tailored, each more expensive-looking than the last.

Three of the maids peeled away immediately, walking over to Caius with mechanical precision. Without waiting for instruction, they began removing the jacket and suit he was wearing.

Heather instinctively turned her face away the moment his shirt came off. She focused her gaze on the necklace still clenched in her hand, her pulse uncomfortably loud in her ears.

The maids dressed him with quick, practiced movements. They slid his arms into the sleeves of a crisp new shirt, buttoned it up to his throat, and re-ironed the jacket he’d just been handed using a silent, handheld air steamer.

One of the maids turned to her, holding out a hanger. "Ma’am, this is your dress," she said, her voice very polite but empty of emotion.

Heather looked up.

The dress was red. Bold and elegant. It had a simple but deliberate design—tight around the waist, soft in the skirt, with a neckline that left little room for insecurity. The kind of dress that demanded attention.

"Is there a place for me to change into this?" Heather asked, shifting her eyes toward Caius, who was now adjusting his tie in the mirror, completely composed.

He didn’t turn to her. "No," he replied, flatly.

She blinked. "What do you mean, no?"

"There isn’t a designated room to change in right now," he clarified, still without looking at her.

The maid beside him spoke up, gesturing toward a small door tucked into the far corner of the room. "There’s a sink area. You can use that space."

Heather walked toward the door, opened it, and immediately frowned.

It wasn’t a room—not really. It was a narrow washroom—too small to be a bathroom—with just a single basin, no mirror, and barely enough space to turn around.

Probably meant for handwashing or quick touch-ups, not full wardrobe changes. She stepped back out and turned to the two people still watching her.

"I can use the bedroom," she said instead.

The maid shook her head, lowering her gaze. "The other maids are cleaning it at the moment."

Heather pressed her lips together and exhaled. So that was that. No proper place to change, nor privacy.

She sighed audibly and finally peeled off her office jacket. "Fine."

The moment her hands started unfastening her top, Caius looked toward the maid. "Excuse us," he said quietly.

The maid bowed slightly and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Heather turned to Caius. "Do you need anything?"

"No."

Still, he stepped closer. "Do you need me to do anything? Anything at all. I can help."

"I need you to turn around."

Caius tilted his head slightly, but after a pause, he nodded and turned around to face the wall.

Heather waited a moment, watching his back, trying to make sure he wasn’t looking, cause he was the type to peek. Caius had never really been predictable.

Heather slipped her fingers under the hem of her blouse and slowly pulled it over her head. The cool air from the room made her skin shiver slightly, but she didn’t pause.

She moved on to the trousers, unfastening the button and sliding the fabric down her legs, folding both pieces neatly before setting them aside.

Her movements were careful and quick, but not rushed. She wanted to be sure of one thing before she did anything else.

She turned her head and looked at Caius, who was still standing with his back to her. Or so it seemed.

She narrowed her eyes a little, trying to read his posture. She had to be certain.

He could be a pervert sometimes — not always, not in the way that made her feel unsafe — but in the way that made her feel like she was being watched, even when she wasn’t.

Like he knew when her guard was down and couldn’t resist looking.

Only once she was convinced that he hadn’t moved did she reach for the red dress and step into it.

She shook her head and reached for the red dress, sliding it up over her hips and adjusting the straps over her shoulders. The fabric was smooth against her skin, snug in the right places. The fabric hugged her waist in a way that made her straighten her spine. She pulled the straps over her shoulders quickly.

The neckline dipped just enough to make her a little self-conscious, but not enough to feel exposed. It was striking—and it fit perfectly.

She turned around again to check on him.

Still facing away and still not watching.

That was strange.

He was usually not this... obedient.

Heather paused, narrowing her gaze slightly. As much as he tried to act like he hated her — and maybe he did — there was always this other side of him that appeared whenever she wasn’t fully dressed.

Like some part of him forgot every reason he had to stay angry. There were times when it honestly felt like he couldn’t help himself.

Like whenever she was undressed, it cast some kind of spell over him. A switch flipped in him, and suddenly he wasn’t Caius the cold businessman anymore.

He was something else — something more dangerous and more unfiltered.

So why was he still turned away?

Why was he actually giving her space this time?

The thought unsettled her for a second. But when she looked again—really looked—she realized she might have been wrong after all. Because his reflection was right there in the mirror.

And he was smiling.

Of course it had been too much to expect him to behave.

In her head, a thousand sarcastic comments fired off at once, but she didn’t speak right away. She just stared at him through the mirror, her posture stiffening.

"I’ve never met anyone who is able to maintain such a beautiful figure... especially after having a child."

Heather didn’t reply immediately. Her jaw clenched.

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