THE LOST HEIRESS RETURNS AFTER DIVORCE -
Chapter 91: You Look Good With My Name On You
Chapter 91: You Look Good With My Name On You
Heather didn’t look back.
She was already halfway down the hallway, her blouse soaked with Jake’s coffee. Her face burned with embarrassment, her skin sticky, and her nerves on edge.
It had already been a long, exhausting morning, and now she was wearing a latte like perfume.
Of course it was Jake Calloway. Lauren’s new feet licker. A man who’d throw coffee at her if Lauren asks him to.
She headed straight for the restroom, heels clack on the floor. She needed water, privacy, and maybe a good scream.
She didn’t make it to the door before she heard a voice she hated more than rotten eggs.
"Heather!"
She froze for a second. Just hearing his voice made her want to break something, her shoulders sagged.
He was the last person she wanted to see, and would lock him in a box, if she could help it, to keep him away from her.
She didn’t stop walking or even turn.
"Go away," she said flatly."Go away," she said, not bothering to mask the irritation in her voice.
Heather rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. She wasn’t even halfway to the restroom when she felt him catch up beside her.
"Heather, wait," Caius said. His tone wasn’t angry — it was soft and concerned. Which somehow annoyed her more.
She finally turned around, only to see him staring at the wet mess on her blouse.
His brows pulled together.
"You’re soaked... What happened?"
He sounded genuinely worried, which was irritating.
She didn’t answer him. She crossed her arms over her chest instead, trying to hide the stained fabric, even though it was a little late for modesty.
She just wanted to get out of this hallway, away from the embarrassment.
He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.
It was folded perfectly, monogrammed with a small silver C in the corner. Everything about him was always crisp and precise. Just like Alex.
She opened her mouth to tell him not to touch her, but he stepped forward and pressed the fabric gently against the stain before she could.
His hand moved slowly, wiping away at the coffee. His fingers pressed into her chest, and her first instinct was to shove him back.
But she didn’t.
Not because she wanted his hands on her, especially not there, but because she heard them.
The glorious obsessed crew members; whom on a normal day would play it cool, since there was a rumor around, they have all lost it.
They had their phones and were already recording. Their cameras clicking from across the hall.
Heather stared straight ahead, her arms were stiff at her sides.
She didn’t need this to go viral. Not another headline. Not another "billionaire CEO and his secret actress wife caught in a lovers’ spat" situation.
So she stood still.
She stared straight ahead as his hand hovered too close to her collarbone. She could smell the faint trace of his cologne
She didn’t like this and she hated that he was putting on a show, now she was forced to play along.
He never used to touch her in public. Now he was all gentle hands and doting husband?
What a joke.
She looked at him sharply. She still couldn’t believe it. After keeping her a secret for two years, now he was suddenly throwing her name around like it meant something?
He smiled faintly, because he of how stiff she kept her body.
Caius didn’t speak for a moment. Then he glanced at the people behind him and leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"I didn’t think it’d bother you." He said. "We’re not exactly a new story."
He adjusted the edge of her blouse slightly, still pretending to clean it, even though it was clearly a lost cause. Then he added, in that maddeningly low, smug voice of his:
"Besides... you look good with my name on you."
The way he said it — casually, with that familiar arrogance — made her want to slap the smug off his face.
But she didn’t.
She pressed her lips together and took a step back, looking at him squarely in the eye.
"I’m going to clean this off properly," she said.
She turned and pushed open the restroom door, disappearing inside.
Let him play the caring husband in the hallway.
She knew better.
Heather stood at the sink, dabbing at her blouse with paper towels, but it wasn’t helping much.
The coffee had already stained, and the cheap soap left behind a faint, artificial scent that clung to her skin.
She looked up at the mirror and her reflection stared back at her; tired and angry. She didn’t even realize she had been frowning.
Caius was slowly turning her into the angry woman; and she didn’t want to be the bitter wife.
She didn’t want Caius.
And she definitely didn’t want to be anyone’s spectacle.
She sighed and ran a damp hand through her hair, pushing the strands back from her face.
Everyone knew how she used to beg for his attention and how he used to ignore her, but now he was wiping her blouse in a hallway, pretending to be the doting man she’d once begged him to be?
It was pathetic.
And insulting.
Because now that she didn’t want the attention — now that she had finally stopped caring — he was desperate to give it. Drowning her in it.
The irony wasn’t just cruel.
It made her sick.
How was that fair?
She splashed more water on her blouse, biting the inside of her cheek to hold back the tilt in her brows... She wasn’t going to frown anymore.
When she was done, she dried herself as best as she could, then cautiously opened the restroom door just a crack.
She wasn’t sure why she was peeking, but there was no Caius outside... Thank God.
He must have followed his armies, because there was no sign of anyone.
She stepped back into the hall, clutching her bags, and made her way toward the main exit. The revolving doors were just ahead.
She was ready to go home to just her baby — her Alex. The only person in the world she still trusted.
Heather stopped.
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