THE LOST HEIRESS RETURNS AFTER DIVORCE
Chapter 98: What Are You Doing Here?

Chapter 98: What Are You Doing Here?

Heather let out a tired sigh. She bent down to pick Alex up, hugging him close even though she still smelled like raw egg. The scent clung to her coat, to her hair, to her skin—but he didn’t pull away.

He did wrinkle his nose, though.

She could only laugh faintly as she carried him a few steps. He was warm and soft, and for a moment it almost distracted her from the sour stickiness drying on her skin.

But her arms ached more than they should’ve. She set him down gently, smoothing his curls.

"I need a shower," she said under her breath, mostly to herself.

From the side of the courtyard, Amaranth had risen from the shade. She leaned slightly against one of the brick pillars, arms folded—not sternly, but like someone who had been there a while and wasn’t in a hurry to leave.

Heather noticed the maids, too. The two of them stood nearby with quiet poise, their hands folded neatly in front of them.

It seemed like everyone had been waiting.

Before Heather could say anything, Amaranth spoke. "Alex insisted we wait here for you."

Heather then looked down at her son, he beamed as if it was the most natural thing in the world, then back at Amaranth. She gave a small, tired smile.

"I saw the news," Amaranth added. "Are you alright?"

Heather brushed her hair back with a hand that felt heavier than it should have. She gave a thin smile. "I don’t even know how I feel."

But that wasn’t true. She did know, she was just tired of saying it out loud, and labeling everything—confusion, frustration, exhaustion, all of it bleeding together into something she couldn’t quite name.

Amaranth stepped closer and said in a soft tone. "You don’t have to hold anything from me."

"I know," Heather said. "I just need a shower. I’ll feel better after."

Amaranth didn’t press her, instead she only nodded and gently took Alex’s hand. "Come on, let’s give your Mommy some time."

As they walked away, Heather stood still for a moment, listening to the sound of their footsteps fade into the corridor.

She looked around the estate—everything so pristine and polished. The gardens were damp with leftover rain.

The grass glistened like it had just been trimmed. There wasn’t a leaf out of place.

It should have brought her peace, but it didn’t.

This place still didn’t feel like home.

She was used to quiet mornings and even quieter nights. To the sound of her own thoughts filling an empty apartment.

She was used to knowing every room in the house, every door and where it lead to, every tiny habit Alex had when he thought she wasn’t watching.

Here, there were things she didn’t understand. Even rooms she’d never stepped into. Caius had a snake in his office. There was a cat she had no idea was living here until it strolled across the hallway like it owned the place.

A turtle in the sunroom, and a shelf lined with tiny containers labeled "snail progress," which she’d refused to ask about.

She told Caius—firmly—that she didn’t want to see any of his "creatures" in her part of his house, but he’d only smiled.

Now, she missed the quiet and the stillness that used to feel like a burden but had somehow become her comfort.

Heather walked slowly to Caius’s wing. Her shoes barely made a sound against the tiles. When she reached the door, she didn’t knock. She stepped in, already unzipping the zippers of the dress.

She felt the warm temperature of the house and immediately knew the heater was on.

Of course it was.

She loved as the air was warm and dry, like someone had thought ahead for her comfort—but hadn’t told her.

She exhaled long and low, unaware until then how tightly her shoulders had been drawn.

She walked straight toward the bathroom. There were no sounds coming from inside. No water, or humming. Just the soft drip-drip from the sink tap she kept forgetting to mention.

She pushed the door open.

The lights were already on.

She slipped Jake’s coat from her shoulders, folding it carefully. The fabric was no longer wet, just faintly warm from her body. She placed it in the laundry basket gently, like it was something fragile.

Then she reached for her dress; her fingers hooked the fabric at her waist.

She paused when she heard a voice.

"What are you doing here?"

She froze.

The voice wasn’t loud, it wasn’t angry either. Just... there and familiar in a way she didn’t feel like welcoming right now.

She turned.

Caius stood in the doorway, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his belt was already off.

He looked tired, but not worn. The kind of tired that came from choosing not to sleep, not from a lack of rest. His shoes were gone, so was his tie.

Heather straightened, letting her hand fall from her dress.

"I didn’t hear anyone inside," she said simply, as if that explained everything.

He didn’t argue, he just stepped into the room, and moved to the mirror beside her. Then be began unfastening his shirt like she wasn’t even there.

She blinked. "What are you doing?"

He didn’t look at her. "What does it look like I’m doing?"

He peeled the shirt off his arms and turned toward the basket—then paused.

His gaze landed on Jake’s coat.

"Why didn’t you give that to the maids?" he asked. "Or better still... the owner?"

"He left before I could."

He muttered something under his breath and tossed his shirt into a different basket. But not the one she’d used.

Heather frowned as she stared at the coat in her basket, then at his now half-empty one. She hated when things weren’t arranged in an orderly manner; plus, it was only sensible to put his shirt in the basket half full.

"Why didn’t you just drop yours in this basket? It’s not full."

"That’s none of your business," he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "So now we’re minding our own business?"

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for the zipper of his trousers.