THE LOST HEIRESS RETURNS AFTER DIVORCE
Chapter 125: Who is This Familiar Little Boy?

Chapter 125: Who is This Familiar Little Boy?

"Here you go." Manager Sheng’s assistant handed Heather a bottle of water, her expression polite but unreadable.

"Thank you," Heather muttered under her breath as she twisted the cap and took a sip. The water felt cool against the dryness in her throat, but it didn’t do much to calm the ache in her chest.

Her heart was still pounding from the adrenaline of the interview, and now, standing backstage under the low hum of studio lights, everything was finally sinking in.

"That was an amazing interview," one of the producers commented as they passed by, offering a nod of approval.

Heather only smiled faintly in return. Amazing? Maybe to them. But to her, the entire thing felt like peeling off layers of skin in front of the world, exposing parts of herself she never intended to show.

The interview had been tough, as expected. The questions were relentless, circling the events of that night—the night everything unraveled. The public had been fed a thousand different versions of the story: rumors, theories, conspiracies. But today, for the first time, they heard her side. On live television.

She explained it carefully, walking the thin line between truth and strategy. She painted herself as the victim—which, in many ways, she was.

Lauren’s manipulation, the blackmail, the threats—it had all been real. People were finally seeing her for who she truly was, not the media-crafted villain she had been made out to be.

But things had gotten complicated the moment the footage played.

The video Lauren used to blackmail her had been broadcasted for the sake of transparency. The audience demanded evidence; the producers wanted ratings. And Heather... she had to comply. It was the only way to clear her name.

She had promised Trish that her name wouldn’t be dragged into this mess, and technically, Heather hadn’t mentioned her once.

But when the footage rolled, Trish’s voice was unmistakable in the background. The interviewer caught it immediately, calling attention to it in front of millions.

Heather had brushed it off as best she could, claiming she had no idea how Trish was involved, keeping her words vague. But even as she spoke, the weight of what Lauren had revealed lingered in her mind.

Lauren had said Trish suggested they pin everything on Heather. At first, Heather dismissed it as Lauren’s messy, manipulative games—but then Miguel, separately, said the same thing. And Lauren hadn’t even been present during that conversation.

How could they both tell the same story? Were they working together? But if they were, how? They weren’t even aware of the pending arrests that night.

It didn’t add up.

Heather scrolled through her phone as she waited for her car. Social media was already ablaze. Her name, Lauren’s name, Trish’s name—they were all trending.

But Trish... Trish was being dragged through the mud faster than Heather expected. The public was ruthless. The same people who adored you could turn on you in seconds. She had witnessed it countless times, but seeing it unfold again still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

A young girl, Sebastian’s sister, approached timidly, breaking Heather’s train of thought.

"Thank you, Mrs. Thorne... for everything. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten justice for my brother without you." It was Sebastian’s sister—the same girl Heather had insisted join her on the interview set.

Heather softened. Despite everything, this girl’s quiet gratitude cut through the noise of the day.

"You don’t owe me anything," Heather replied sincerely, reaching into her handbag and pulling out a sleek, embossed card. "If you ever need support—real support—you contact me directly. You won’t have to go through assistants or managers. I mean that."

The girl’s eyes lit up as she clutched the card like it was gold. "Thank you so much... I really appreciate it."

Heather watched her walk away, a sense of resolve washing over her. She had invited the girl for a reason. Truthfully, she didn’t know much about Sebastian Hale—not even what he looked like—until the media splashed his photo everywhere.

A minor working in a strip club? It still didn’t sit right with her. What circumstances led to that? Exploitation, most likely. Poor oversight. Things no child should be caught in. It was tragic all around.

"Mrs. Thorne, the car is ready outside," one of Caius’s men informed her, his black suit perfectly pressed, his tone sharp and professional.

Heather nodded, following him through the backstage exit. Her thoughts drifted to Caius as she walked.

Was he already gone? The last time they spoke, Adams made it sound certain—Caius was leaving the country.

Six months to a year, at least. Voluntarily stepping back to avoid legal trouble, to let the media storm blow over. It was the smart move... but it still stung.

The news about Lauren had flooded every major outlet, pushing the VestorCorp headlines to the background. For once, the heat was off them.

"You’re leaving now?" Manager Sheng’s voice called as she reached the door.

Heather paused briefly. "Yes. Something important to take care of."

She didn’t elaborate. It wasn’t a ’something’—it was a someone. As much as she tried to play indifferent, her heart was in a rush to get home. To see him before he left. She didn’t want to admit it, but she wanted to say goodbye properly.

The clock read 2 PM. There was still time, right?

The ride home felt excruciatingly slow. Heather tapped her fingers anxiously against her thigh, the rhythm quickening with every red light, every turn.

"Can you drive faster?" she finally snapped, meeting the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Yes, ma’am." He pressed the pedal a little harder.

When they finally pulled up to the house, Heather’s eyes immediately spotted several suitcases stacked by the entrance.

Relief bloomed in her chest.

So, he was still here.

"Sorry for snapping at you earlier," she told the driver with a sheepish glance before stepping out.

Caius wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye—not completely. She had doubted him, sure, given their lingering tension, the unresolved arguments hanging in the air. But beneath his cold exterior, he wasn’t that heartless.

Heather marched inside, barely acknowledging the staff. A few maids hovered near the entrance with Adams, but she brushed past them, heading straight upstairs to his study.

She knocked lightly at first. No response.

She knocked again, firmer this time. Still nothing.

Her pulse tightened. "Caius, it’s Heather," she called, knocking once more.

No answer.

Seriously? Was he ignoring her? He might be petty, but this? She refused to believe he’d leave without—

"Mrs. Thorne?" a timid voice interrupted.

Heather turned sharply to see one of the young maids lingering nearby, arms full of folded laundry.

"What? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?"

The maid fidgeted, avoiding her eyes. "It’s about Master Caius..."

Heather’s brows lifted. "What about him? Did he tell you to get rid of me from the door or—?"

"He’s not in his study," the maid interrupted softly.

Heather’s heart stuttered. "Then where is he? In the garden? Bedroom? With Alex?"

The maid shook her head. "I saw him leaving earlier; he was holding some luggages."

Heather stared at her, the words slow to register. "When?"

"Hours ago," the maid replied before scurrying off with her laundry basket.

Heather stood frozen, her mind racing. Then whose luggage was—

Before she could finish the thought, Adams appeared at the base of the stairs, escorting a young boy toward the upper floor.

The boy’s face stopped her in her tracks.

Familiar.

He couldn’t have been older than Alex, with sharp eyes and unruly dark hair.

"Adams," Heather called, stepping down carefully. "What’s going on?"

Adams looked startled but composed himself quickly, his voice steady.

"Master Caius instructed we bring young Master Asher here, until things settle... with his mother."