Chapter 90: Trending For All The Wrong Reasons

Words : 1052 Updated : Sep 21st, 2025

Chapter 90: Trending For All The Wrong Reasons Why does it bother you so much, Heather?" Caius asked, his tone suddenly serious. "That they know you’re mine?" "Because I’m not yours," she said, steady and slow. "And I never will be." For the first time, something flickered across his face—hurt. But it was gone as quickly as it came. Heather adjusted her bag and turned to leave. She didn’t even want to hear what came next. But she didn’t get far. "I meant what I said," Caius called after her, his voice louder now—on purpose. So the crew could hear. "I don’t care if you don’t feel the same. I’m not letting go." Another gasp. More people raised their phones. "Oh my God..." whispered one girl. Heather turned briefly and saw him smiling like he’d just won a round. Her blood boiled. He knew he was getting under her skin and he kept doing it. She didn’t want to deal with him, instead she inhaled deeply and let the area. Her phone buzzed nonstop in her bag. She checked it, hoping it was Penny. New Notification: VIDEO TRENDING – "Mr. Thorne Declares Love for Mrs Heather at Miss H’s Studio." How was this already online? It had happened minutes ago. Her frozen face was on the thumbnail. Her eyes wide. The headline in bold: "I don’t care if you don’t feel the same—I’m not letting go." Heather let out a shaky breath. Her heart was pounding. What was she supposed to do with this man? He was everywhere. Always in her face, and always the center of attention. He was the bane of her existence. Her phone buzzed again, when she looked down to see, Penny’s caller ID lit up her screen. Just as she was about to answer— Hot liquid splashed down her chest, sudden and scalding. Heather froze, her body going rigid on instinct. Her gaze dropped, and all she saw was a dark stain spreading across the delicate fabric of her dress—ruining the carefully prepared costume like ink. The coffee soaked through the material with alarming speed, dark brown streaks trailing down her torso. And it burned. For a moment, she couldn’t even speak. Her breath caught in her throat. Her entire body felt as though it were suspended between shock and fury. She had only just escaped Caius and the public disaster he’d left behind. She was already overwhelmed, her nerves stretched thin—and now this? Heather’s mind didn’t need time to connect the pieces. She knew exactly what this was. This wasn’t an accident. Penny had warned her before—these costume designs were not simply outfits; they were set pieces. They were insured, catalogued, and strictly handled. If anything happened to them, even a drop of water, there would be consequences. It wouldn’t be a stretch for Lauren, with all her bottled-up spite, to use this as ammunition against Penny. A ruined costume could become the reason Penny will be written off a production. Demotion, suspension, or dismissal. All possible. Her head snapped up, ready to fight. And standing in front of her—almost too casually—was Jake Calloway. A half-empty cup of coffee dangled loosely in his hand. His expression, just a moment ago relaxed and disinterested, flickered as realization dawned. Regret followed a beat later. "Oh, damn. That’s—" he started, but Heather didn’t let him finish. "You did that on purpose," she said, her tone low and unwavering, like a knife placed gently on the table—but with its edge turned outward. Jake’s eyebrows drew together, clearly caught off guard. "I—wait, what?" She stepped forward, closing the space between them, eyes never leaving his face. Her voice did not rise, but it struck harder than if she’d shouted. "I see what’s going on, Calloway. You work for Lauren now, don’t you? What did she promise you? A chance to earn some favour by ruining my dress and setting me up for her revenge? Or maybe just sex?" Jake’s face was a picture of confusion—his brows furrowed deeper, his mouth opened slightly, and then he shut it again. He didn’t even know where to begin. Heather’s words hit him fast and hard. He blinked; once, then twice. And finally let out a breath that was more disbelief than anything else. "Are you questioning my professionalism?" She saw his confusion as deflection. She didn’t care if he was trying to look innocent. She knew how people like Lauren operated—using pawns and playing dirty while smiling sweetly in public. Jake reached for a napkin on a nearby table, held it out like a white flag. "Here, let me help—" His hand extended, not thinking, heading toward the stain. Toward her chest. The moment it moved downward, her body responded before her mind even caught up. Smack. The sound of skin hitting skin echoed sharply in the hallway. Her hand struck his wrist cleanly, making him flinch. He froze. "Are you out of your mind?" she snapped, finally letting her voice rise. Her fury was no longer simmering beneath the surface—it was hot and sharp now, like the coffee burning through her clothes. "You think I wouldn’t see what that looked like? That it wouldn’t look like you were trying to touch me inappropriately?" His face paled slightly. The napkin was still in his hand, but it dangled now, useless. For the first time, his posture shifted. His usual confidence evaporated, replaced by a growing sense of alarm. He stepped back slowly, his palms slightly raised in surrender, trying to put space between them. As he glanced around checking if she was drawing attention. "You’re right. That was dumb. I wasn’t thinking. I swear I wasn’t trying anything." He genuinely hadn’t thought—it had been an instinct to clean the mess, but a stupid one. He wasn’t trying to humiliate her, or cross a line. But by then, it was too late. The damage—literal and otherwise—was already done. Heather didn’t want to hear his excuses. She didn’t want sympathy. And she definitely didn’t want to be near him. "I don’t care what you meant," she said firmly, her breathing uneven but her voice steady. "Let me make this clear: stay away from me." Jake stood still, watching her walk away, her ruined dress stuck slightly to her skin. He didn’t try to stop her.

Chapter 90: Trending For All The Wrong Reasons

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