THE LOST HEIRESS RETURNS AFTER DIVORCE
Chapter 67: Consent or Control

Chapter 67: Consent or Control

Heather winced as she removed the broken heel from her foot, rubbing her sore ankle gently with the tips of her fingers.

The pain throbbed with each pulse of her heart, but not as loudly as the emotion surging in her chest. Anger. Disgust. And something else she didn’t want to name.

She glanced up and found Caius crouched in front of her, reaching for her foot again, as though he had any right to touch her.

The sight of him so close—pretending to be helpful, pretending to care—made her stomach twist.

"If you hadn’t run your mouth," she hissed, "this wouldn’t have happened."

He didn’t answer. He just looked at her, his eyes unreadable, the same way they had been moments earlier—right before he dropped the news that she’d be staying at the Thorne residence now.

Because, according to him, he owned everything.

And because, according to him, she was going to be his wife.

That word had sent fire through her veins. She’d been ready to rip into him when her foot caught the edge of the step—heel snapping, ankle twisting—and pain shooting up like lightning.

She hadn’t even gotten the satisfaction of telling him off before falling hard into reality.

"Let go," she snapped as his hands reached toward her ankle. "Don’t touch me."

Caius stilled, still crouched before her, but didn’t argue. He simply turned around and bent slightly forward, presenting his back to her.

Heather blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Climb on."

She frowned, then laughed bitterly. "I’m not climbing on your back."

"You can’t walk."

"I can walk just fine," she replied tightly, pressing her foot down to prove it.

The sharp pain that followed nearly buckled her knees. She clenched her teeth and sucked in a breath through her nose. Caius was still, saying nothing.

Heather gritted her teeth and tried again. She placed her hands on the railing, pushed herself up, and took one step. Pain lanced through her leg so fast her vision blurred. She faltered.

Before she could tip forward, Caius caught her arm.

"Climb on," he said again, his voice calm, but with that infuriating undertone of control.

"I *said* I’m fine—" she growled.

"You’re not."

Before she could fight him off, he pulled her arm gently but firmly—and in one movement, she fell forward against his back. He caught her weight easily, lifting her up like she weighed nothing at all.

"Caius—put me down! What the hell are you doing?"

"I’m carrying you."

"I didn’t ask you to!"

"You don’t have to."

She tried to wiggle free, but his grip around her legs was locked and unyielding. Her hands hit his shoulders, pushing, but he didn’t even flinch.

"Put me down, you arrogant—"

"No."

She huffed, fuming. "This is ridiculous. You’re not some kind of knight in shining armor. You don’t get to act like you care now."

"I never claimed to be a knight," he said simply, walking up the steps. "But I’m not going to let you limp around on a sprained ankle either."

"You’re unbelievable."

She kicked her legs slightly out of frustration, though not hard enough to make herself fall. She wasn’t that reckless. Not with Alex in this house.

And just as they passed a hallway where a few maids stood whispering, she realized what this must look like to everyone else.

She was draped across his back, wild-haired and barefoot, while he marched forward like a man who owned her body, her choices, everything.

The maids giggled behind their hands as they moved aside. Caius didn’t even glance at them.

Heather seethed.

"To the room," she muttered under her breath, shifting awkwardly.

But he kept walking—past the room—until they reached the large carved doors of his office.

Heather scowled. "I said to the room."

He ignored her. Of course he did.

When he finally set her down inside the office, her balance teetered. She placed one hand on the wall and lifted her injured foot slightly, grimacing as the pain throbbed again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, eyes lingering on her ankle.

"I’m fine," she snapped, brushing his concern off like it stung her skin.

She hated that he brought her here He knew what he was doing. This wasn’t just about her ankle. He wanted to talk, he wanted control. He always wanted control.

A knock came at the door.

Caius turned and opened it. One of the maids stood outside, the one he had told to watch Alex.

"He’s in the bedroom," she said with a polite smile. "I heard the front door and figured you were back. I’ll leave now."

Caius nodded, and the maid disappeared.

Heather didn’t move. She crossed her arms and stared at the floor, her lips tight with bitterness.

Caius turned back to her.

"You should sit," he said.

"I shall remain standing," she muttered. "Why am I here, Caius? Why drag me to your office like I’m a problem you need to manage?"

"I wanted us to talk."

"There’s nothing left to say," she said, raising her voice. "I told you already—I’m leaving first thing in the morning. With Alex. I’m done with all of this—your games, your rules, your name."

"You say it like I forced you into all of it."

She stared at him, rage blooming in her chest. "Yes. Yes, Caius. You did."

"I asked for your consent," he said, stepping closer. "And you agreed."

"Because you threatened me!" Her voice cracked with fury. "You told me you would expose who I was. You cornered me with a choice that was never a real choice."

He opened his mouth, but she didn’t let him speak.

"You’re manipulative, you’re cruel, and you never cared about me—only what I could give you."

"You’re in this whether you like it or not," he said, voice low now. "The deal hasn’t changed. You marry me, or you go to jail."

Heather narrowed her eyes. "Didn’t you say earlier you’d go to jail for me?"

He looked away for a moment, then back again. "I realized how much things would fall apart... if I did."

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