THE LOST HEIRESS RETURNS AFTER DIVORCE
Chapter 101: Because He Hates Jake?

Chapter 101: Because He Hates Jake?

Heather turned the shower knob until the water was hot enough to fog the glass.

Steam filled the room quickly, curling over the smooth marble tiles and clinging to the mirrors.

She stepped in, letting the hot water pour over her skin like a second skin. Her shoulders sagged as the tension melted off one inch at a time.

It had been a long day. Too long. She rubbed the shampoo into her scalp with more force than she needed.

Maybe if she scrubbed hard enough, she could wipe away the memory of Caius holding her underwear like it was a trophy.

Or maybe it was the smile on his face — the one that said he was enjoying every moment of making her uncomfortable.

Disgusting.

And infuriating. And stupidly... well, charming in the worst possible way.

She rolled her eyes at the thought.

As the water soaked through her hair and slid down her back, her gaze fell to the corner of the shower wall where a small square trash bin stood tucked against the vanity. The lid wasn’t closed all the way.

Out of habit — or maybe because it was the only thing around not trying to flirt with her or ruin her life — she reached over and pressed the lid shut.

But the moment she did, something caught her attention.

Something stiff.

A card.

She blinked and opened the lid again, slowly this time. Inside, half tucked between tissues and the packaging from a fresh soap bar, was Jake’s card — the sleek black one she had found in his coat earlier in the day.

The one she had quietly slipped into her own pocket. Caius must have removed it from her coat in the laundry basket.

He didn’t rip it. But he did throw it away.

Heather’s mouth twisted into a thin, sharp line.

"Unbelievable."

She turned off the water and stepped out onto the warm floor mat. The water dripped from her legs and left marks against the dark stone tiles.

She grabbed a towel, quickly drying herself and wrapping it tightly before walking over to the bin again.

She stood there, hands on her hips, staring at the card like it had personally offended her.

"Stupid," she muttered under her breath. "Who finds someone else’s card and throws it in the trash like a jealous teenager?"

She crouched slightly, peering closer.

"Who does that and doesn’t even tear it up? That’s the bare minimum of dramatic sabotage."

Heather wasn’t even angry for Jake’s sake. She wasn’t. But the gesture — the silent, deliberate throwing away of something so simple, so insignificant — told her something about Caius she wasn’t ready to admit out loud.

She needed to pick it up, but the bathroom was too clean to go digging through a bin like a raccoon.

Still, there was no glove or tongs nearby. No tissue in reach. After a short inner debate, she held her breath and used the tips of her fingers, gingerly fishing the card from between the trash.

She cringed as she pulled it free.

"Ew, ew, ew..."

She held the card at arm’s length and looked around for anything to clean her hand with.

There. Caius’s robe, draped perfectly over the heated towel bar. Immaculate. Folded like it had never been touched.

She didn’t even hesitate.

She wiped her fingers on the inside of the sleeve and tossed it back on the bar, muttering, "You had that coming."

She placed the card on the marble counter, glaring at it like it had caused all her problems. Maybe it had. She was overthinking everything now.

What reason did Caius have to throw it away?

She pressed the button on the wall to adjust the corridor temperature. The air conditioning clicked on softly, funneling cool air into the steam-heavy bathroom.

She needed it to dry faster — everything needed to clear out. The air, her head, the strange heaviness sitting in her chest.

Why did he do it?

Maybe it wasn’t jealousy. Caius was far too composed for that kind of thing. No, if he had a flaw, it was control. Not insecurity.

Now it made sense why he refused to drop his shirt with Jake’s coat.

OCD maybe?

But that didn’t explain why he threw the card away specifically. Jake wasn’t dirty.

In fact, he was as unnervingly organized as Caius himself. Polished, put together, sharp in all the same ways.

If this was just about control or cleanliness, then there would be no reason to throw it out.

He could’ve left it on the counter, handed it to her later, let her deal with it.

But he didn’t.

Heather stood there, patting her face gently with a warm towel. She dabbed her night cream from one corner of her cheekbone to the other, her thoughts were still spiraling.

Her body was clean, her face soft and fresh, but her brain was still storming.

Why did he do it?

Because he hates Jake?

Why?

Maybe just because Jake was kind.

Or maybe because Jake shared the glory he got from sponsoring Miss H’s Film.

Was it that simple?

Her fingers paused on her cheek. That had to be it. It had to be.

She exhaled and stepped out into the corridor, the towel tucked around her and the robe now reluctantly over her shoulders.

The air was crisp, like she wanted, drying her hair and clearing her skin.

She walked to the guest room, the card was still in her hand, and was ready to get tucked somewhere safe for now — or maybe just forget it altogether.

But when she reached the guest room, she found the door closed.

She tried the handle.

It was locked.

"What?"

She tried again.

Still locked.

That’s weird. She never locked it. And she certainly hadn’t done it now. Her brow furrowed, lips pressing into a tight line.

And then, the slow realization dawned.

Caius.

She turned sharply on her swishy slippers, her robe swayed around her legs, as she walked down the hallway with quick, controlled steps. She didn’t bother knocking when she reached his room.

She pushed the door open.

Caius was at his desk, his legs crossed casually, and he had a book in his hand.

He didn’t look up immediately, but the edge of his mouth tugged slightly, because he had been expecting her.