The Heiress's Comeback

Chapter 172: [ Volume 1] Chaper 172- Hidden Tensions

Now, standing before Esme, with the poison formula in his hands, he knew what had to be done. His mind was clear, perhaps for the first time in years. This woman, his second aunt, had haunted their lives long enough. If this poison was the answer, then so be it. What did it matter if it killed her? Perhaps this was the only way to end the nightmare once and for all. Without further hesitation, he set to work, crafting the poison Esme had given him, his heart steeled against any doubts.

It was the right solution.

"Because I trusted her!" Jay snapped, cutting him off. His voice was sharper than before, frustration of his own finally bubbling to the surface. "I didn’t question it because I trusted her, okay? Esme has always been ten steps ahead of us. I thought she had her reasons."

Esme, watching the exchange with her usual composed expression, finally stepped forward. "Exactly," she said smoothly. "I always have my reasons."

She didn’t offer any more explanation, and in that moment, it became clear: she didn’t need to. Esme was a woman who operated on her own terms, and if she had decided to keep them in the dark, it was because she believed it was necessary. Whether or not they agreed with that didn’t matter to her.

Ray, breathing hard, glared at Esme, clearly not satisfied with the lack of transparency. But even he couldn’t deny the truth in her words. Aunt had played her hand, and it was a dangerous one. Esme’s calmness in the face of that reality was disturbing, but perhaps it was also what they needed.

"Fine," Ray muttered finally, his voice low and seething. "But we’re going to need a better explanation than this."

Esme gave him a small smile, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Of course," she said, sitting back down and casually picking up her spoon again. "But for now, we need to

Stay caution because now ahe is a mad dog even she doesn’t who she gonna bite next

."

As Esme resumed eating her dessert, the rest of the room remained tense, but the focus had shifted. Whatever their feelings about Esme and Jay’s involvement, they couldn’t afford to let emotions cloud their judgment. Aunt was still a threat, and they had to be ready.

But one thing was clear: Esme wasn’t just someone they could trust blindly anymore. She had proven that while she might be on their side, she played by her own rules.

As the dinner ended and lunch drew to a close, the atmosphere grew heavy with unspoken tension. One by one, they began to leave, each slipping away with their own reasons, though none of them were truly convincing. Jay headed straight back to his office, seeking solace in the quiet hum of his laboratory, where work always served as a welcome distraction.

Ryan followed soon after, murmuring something about clients waiting for him, though the urgency in his tone felt more like a retreat than a duty. Kay, too, mentioned appointments—an easy excuse to escape the charged air that had settled over the house.

They all left, not because they had to, but because they needed to. They didn’t want to show their brothers the cracks in their composure, the simmering emotions that threatened to spill over. Each departure was a quiet effort to cool down, to regain control. None of them wanted to let their bad side show, not to the ones they cared about most.

And so, little by little, the house emptied. Until only Ray remained.

He didn’t leave, didn’t follow them in their quiet exodus. Instead, he stayed, as he always did. Ray wasn’t one for running away, not even from himself. The silence didn’t bother him, nor did the weight of being alone in the house. He had learned to live with it long ago. To him, this house, with its echoes of laughter and occasional storms of emotion, was home. And in this moment, all he wanted was to sit quietly, to let the house breathe around him while he remained still.

Esme had been locked in her study for hours, engrossed in an online meeting, her focus unbroken until it finally ended. Four hours later, she emerged, needing a break, and headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. But as soon as she stepped into the room, she froze, her eyes catching sight of William sitting at the counter.

He looked... exhausted. His face was drawn, and he was furiously scrubbing a bowl that had already been washed several times over. The once pristine white bowl was now marred with scratches, the decorative print on it all but worn away by his relentless cleaning. Esme immediately understood—she knew what was haunting his thoughts.

Quietly, she walked over, picking up a cup from the counter. With deliberate ease, she tapped it lightly against the slate floor, just enough to make a soft sound. The noise caught William’s attention, and he glanced up, startled. His eyes were red, though no tears were visible anymore—he had likely wiped them away several times already. But the moment he saw Esme, he hastily swiped at his face, trying to compose himself.

"Oh, you’re here for something?" he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Esme’s gaze stayed on him for a moment, taking in the forced expression. She could see right through it. As she poured milk into her cup, her voice came out calm, almost casual. "If you can’t smile, why force it?"

The statement was delivered so plainly, it might have sounded indifferent to anyone else, but William knew better. He paused, the bowl still in his hands, as if he’d been caught off guard by her words. His throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed, turning his face away from her, trying to hide the fresh wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

He cleared his throat, forcing a lighter tone. "You know, coffee isn’t made that way... you should put water first."

But his voice betrayed him, cracking ever so slightly, as if the weight of everything he was holding back was pressing down harder than ever.