The Heiress's Comeback

Chapter 212: [ Volume 1] Chaper 212- Esme died.

The moment the door creaked open, a familiar scent drifted into the room—jasmine, soft yet suffocating. Without turning, Ray knew who it was. His second aunt. But something about her presence today felt off, more menacing. The air in the room grew thick with tension, and though his body was exhausted, a deep sense of dread pooled in his stomach.

She was humming. A light, cheerful tune, completely out of place in the cold, sterile space. Her happiness felt wrong, twisted somehow, and as her voice grew louder, Ray’s heart raced in panic. Every note she hummed seemed to coil tighter around his chest. He didn’t dare speak. His mind screamed at him to stay silent, to not provoke her, as if any word he uttered could shatter whatever fragile control she had over herself.

As if sensing his thoughts, she sauntered up to him, her footsteps light but deliberate, and took a seat on the edge of the bed, her lips curling into a soft smile. It was the kind of smile that made his skin crawl. Leaning in close, her jasmine perfume overwhelming his senses, she whispered, her voice dripping with eerie satisfaction, "Do you know why I’m smiling, Ray?"

He said nothing, his trembling hands hidden beneath the sheets. His heart thudded so violently he was sure she could hear it.

"I’m so happy today," she continued, her eyes gleaming with a strange light, as if this moment was everything she had been waiting for. Ray tried to understand what she meant, but his fear paralyzed him. Suddenly, she reached for the blindfold covering his eyes.

The blinding light stung his eyes, and for a moment, everything blurred. He had been trapped in darkness for so long that the brightness disoriented him. Slowly, his vision adjusted, and he took in the room around him. It wasn’t the dark, dilapidated place he had imagined. It was unsettlingly pristine, with large windows letting in streams of harsh sunlight, making it feel almost surreal, like a stage set.

But then his gaze returned to his aunt. She was no longer wearing her usual dark, conservative attire. Instead, she wore a white gown—pure and elegant, like a wedding dress. The sight made Ray’s blood run cold. Something was very, very wrong.

His second aunt leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a whisper, "Do you know why I’m so happy today, Ray?" She didn’t wait for him to answer. Instead, she pulled out her phone, her fingers moving with a controlled eagerness. "Look, look at this," she said, her voice lilting with excitement.

She played a video, and Ray’s eyes locked on the screen. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart felt like it had stopped. The video showed a car—a familiar one. Esme’s car.

The footage played out in horrifying clarity. Esme driving, the sudden flash of light, the explosion, and then the car careening off the hill, tumbling into the abyss below.

Ray’s world spun. His entire body froze as his mind tried to comprehend what he had just seen. His throat tightened, making it impossible to speak, to breathe. He wanted to scream, but no sound came. All he could do was sit there, paralyzed, as his second aunt smiled at him with cruel satisfaction, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

Ray’s body convulsed violently, his throat burning as he coughed up blood, collapsing onto the cold floor. The metallic taste flooded his mouth as darkness swirled around him. His vision blurred, but in the throes of unconsciousness, images of Esme came rushing to him in rapid succession, like a film unspooling in his mind.

He saw her laughing, her carefree smile lighting up the room. He saw the way she would console him when life became too heavy, her soft voice pulling him out of his darkest moments. The memories were like daggers, piercing his chest with unbearable pain. He hadn’t told her. He never told her. Not once had he confessed the depths of his love for her, and now it was too late. The words, "I love you," remained unspoken, lodged in the deepest part of his soul, and now they would forever be trapped there, suffocating him.

Tears streamed down his face, even in his unconscious state. No, he screamed silently, though his lips did not move. I can’t lose her. I can’t—

Suddenly, his eyes flew open. There was a rush of fury, a primal need to strike back at the woman who had taken everything from him. With a roar that echoed off the walls, Ray shot to his feet and lunged at his second aunt, his hand clenched into a fist, murder burning in his eyes.

"You bitch!" he screamed, his voice raw and broken. "I’ll kill you right now!" His body surged forward, all his pain and rage aimed directly at her.

But his aunt barely flinched. With an eerie calmness, she lifted her phone again, tapping the screen with delicate precision. Suddenly, photos flashed across the screen—intimate, humiliating photos of him, captured without his knowledge.

Ray stopped dead in his tracks, his blood running cold. His eyes darted to the images, each one more invasive than the last. He felt sick, like his insides were being twisted.

His second aunt’s laugh broke the silence, a sound so hollow and mocking it made his skin crawl. "Come on, Ray," she taunted, her voice laced with venom. "Jump on me, and I promise you this—this time it was your dear, lovely wife. And after that, maybe the next one will be your precious brothers." Her eyes gleamed with malice, enjoying every second of his torment.

Ray froze, his fists trembling at his sides. "No," he whispered, his voice cracking. "You can’t... you can’t do this."

She let out a cruel laugh. "And why do you think I can’t?" Her voice lowered, almost teasing, as she leaned in closer. "After all," she said slowly, savoring every word, "I was the one who killed your parents."