The Heiress's Comeback

Chapter 163: [Volume 1] - 163- Insane.

Helga’s brow furrowed in confusion at the abrupt request. Just moments ago, she had commented on how much the girls resembled Esme’s father-in-law, and now the mood had shifted. Taking a deep breath, she replied, "Okay," before standing and walking out of the office.

Once Helga left, Esme leaned back in her chair, her thoughts racing. It wasn’t as simple as it seemed. These daughters weren’t merely victims of circumstance—there was something deliberate about their condition, something meticulously crafted with an unsettling purpose

. The notion struck her as she recalled the eldest daughter, whose fierce love for her sister suggested innocence rather than malice. Could someone so devoted truly be part of something sinister?

The more she pondered, the more questions swirled in her mind. Who could orchestrate such a situation? And for what end? It felt as though she were piecing together a puzzle where every fragment hinted at a deeper, darker truth, one that she couldn’t yet see.

Esme tapped her fingers on the desk, her brow furrowed. The memory of Helga’s words echoed in her mind, making her uneasy. There was something she couldn’t quite shake, something that didn’t add up. She reached for the bell again, giving it a sharp ring. This time, Aron appeared, dressed in the same official attire as before. Esme had hired him as her personal assistant, just like Helga. When Helga wasn’t around, Aron was the one who kept things running smoothly.

As Aron entered, he shot her a professional glance, but Esme couldn’t help but chuckle softly. "Yes, ma’am?" he asked, his tone neutral, but the hint of familiarity between them was hard to hide. In the office, the three of them—Helga, Aron, and Esme—always kept things professional, never letting anyone know about their personal ties.

"I called you for a reason," Esme said, nodding. "Mr. Prince, I need you to get me the pictures of the second aunt’s daughters—the eldest, second, and third. Can you do that?"

Aron nodded without hesitation, leaving the room and returning with his laptop a few minutes later. He set it on the table, sat down on the sofa across from her, and began typing rapidly. Esme waited, her fingers still drumming against the polished wood of her desk, her thoughts spinning. After five or six minutes, Aron turned the laptop towards her, displaying the images.

"Ma’am, here are the faces of the daughters," Aron said, his tone all business. Esme leaned forward, eyes narrowing as she studied the photos. Just as she suspected, the eldest daughter’s features were a blend of the second aunt and her husband, Ray’s father. But the second and third daughters? Their faces told a different story. They resembled their aunt, but not Ray’s father—certainly not Esme’s father-in-law.

Esme tapped the table again, her mind racing. "Prince, I need you to dig deeper. Find out everything you can about these daughters, and more importantly, I want the exact dates of their fathers’ deaths."

Aron nodded and got to work. The minutes ticked by, but Esme didn’t rush him. She leaned back in her chair, letting her mind sort through the emerging puzzle pieces. After what felt like an eternity, Aron looked up from the screen, his expression serious.

"The second daughter’s father died when she was ten years old," Aron said, glancing at his notes.

Esme’s eyes flickered with interest. "And anything strange after that?"

Aron nodded again. "Yes, ma’am. Before her father’s death, she was a cheerful, outgoing girl. But after his passing, she became withdrawn, almost silent. Even during her birthday celebrations, she never smiled. It’s like she turned into a completely different person—gloomy, almost."

"Gloomy," Esme muttered, leaning forward. Her eyes darkened as a sense of dread washed over her. "And the second daughter?"

Aron checked his notes again, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "Her father died when she was twelve."

"I knew it," Esme muttered under her breath. She leaned forward, voice steady but edged with cold certainty. "Let me guess. She changed after that too, didn’t she?"

Aron’s expression shifted as he looked at the screen, then back at her. His shock was evident. "Yes. Exactly one year after her father’s death, she became quiet and gloomy as well."

Esme’s hand slammed onto the table. Her intuition had been right. But a new question swirled in her mind, one that unsettled her even more.

"Wait a minute," she said, her voice cutting through the room like ice. "Helga mentioned that all of the second aunt’s husbands died within seven to eight years of marriage. So how could these fathers have died when the children were ten or twelve? It doesn’t add up."

Aron’s face tightened in concentration as he scrolled through the data, then looked up at her. "It’s true they died after six or seven years of marriage, but... the daughters were all born before their parents got married."

Esme’s hands gripped the edge of her desk, her knuckles white. "What?" she whispered, disbelief washing over her. "Before marriage?"

"My God," Esme murmured, leaning back in her chair, her mind racing with the impossible implications of this revelation. "What kind of madness is this?"

Esme’s mind was racing as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. If the rumors were true, then the second aunt had been having affairs for years before marrying her husbands. But why? In this world, it wasn’t unusual for someone to have multiple partners, even five to ten months apart. So why hide it? Why not take them in as concubines or marry them openly?

She couldn’t wrap her head around it. "If she was already in a relationship, why not just marry them? Why deceive her husbands like that? What was she trying to hide?" Esme muttered, staring off into space, her thoughts spiraling.

Then, a sudden realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her eyes snapped back to Aron, who was still busy with the laptop.

"Aron," she called, her voice more urgent than before. It was the first time she’d ever used his name in the office, a clear sign that this was no ordinary inquiry. Aron looked up, startled.