The Heiress's Comeback

Chapter 213: [ Volume 1] Chaper 213- The truth behind the curtain

Ray’s heart stopped, his breath catching in his throat. He had suspected it for so long, had felt it in his bones, but to hear her say it out loud—like a knife twisting in an already bleeding wound—was almost unbearable. His face contorted with a mix of disbelief and horror, but he couldn’t stop the small, bitter smile that tugged at his lips. He had always known, hadn’t he? Deep down, he had always suspected this monster was behind it all.

His aunt’s face twisted into a grotesque smile. "Oh, Ray, don’t look so shocked," she sneered, her eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. "Do you want to know how I killed her? Your precious mother? The same way I just killed your wife."

Ray’s body trembled as her words sank in. The world around him seemed to close in, suffocating him in grief, rage, and helplessness. Esme. His mother. It was all too much. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t move.

"What’s wrong, Ray?" his aunt whispered, her voice dripping with false concern.

Ray’s face flushed crimson, veins throbbing at his temples as his body quaked with a violent mix of rage and disbelief. His hands trembled, fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palms, drawing blood. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, every beat a painful reminder of the sheer hatred he now harbored for the woman standing in front of him.

"How can you?" he choked, his voice raw and trembling. His eyes burned with unshed tears, but his gaze never wavered from her. "How can you do this?!" He felt like he was on the verge of breaking, his entire world spinning out of control. His throat tightened as he forced the words out, louder this time, filled with pain. "She was your own sister!"

His voice echoed through the room, a guttural cry that was both a demand and a plea. He couldn’t understand it. How could someone be so devoid of humanity, so cold and cruel? His mother, the woman who had raised them both, had trusted this monster—her own flesh and blood. Yet she had been betrayed in the most heinous way possible.

The second aunt’s voice wavered between bitterness and hysteria, her eyes gleaming with an unhinged intensity that chilled Ray to his core. As her laughter died down, her face contorted into a mask of resentment, raw and twisted.

"Oh my God, Ray! You’re just like your father, you know?" she sneered, her tone filled with contempt. "He used to spew this same nonsense." She laughed, but the sound was hollow, more like the last gasp of a long-held grudge than genuine amusement. She glanced at him with disdain, as if recalling years of seething in silence.

Ray’s knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists, trying to hold back the anger boiling up inside him. Each word she spat felt like a knife, twisting deeper, her contempt tainting even the memory of his parents. He wanted to scream at her, to demand how she could betray her own blood. But before he could speak, she began again, her voice low and venomous.

"You call her my ’sister’?" she scoffed, her voice laced with scorn. "I was older than her. I was the second one after our eldest sister passed away. It was supposed to be my turn to inherit the family name, the fortune. I worked tirelessly for that recognition, Ray. Late nights, endless sacrifices, all for what? Only to watch your mother become the beloved one—the perfect child."

She laughed bitterly, a laugh tinged with something almost animalistic. "Do you have any idea how much it disgusted me? She would always come to me, saying ’sister this, sister that,’ as if she were reminding me every time of how inferior I was, as if mocking me."

Ray’s eyes narrowed, his stomach turning as he took in her words. This woman, his aunt, was unraveling before him, each sentence like a glimpse into a nightmare he hadn’t known he was living in.

"And at last, when everything should’ve been mine, your mother inherited it all," she continued, her voice tightening. "Why? Just because she was ’mother’s favorite’? I even let it go, Ray. I tried to let it go because I believed—foolishly, stupidly—that she was my sister, and maybe that meant something. But then, even the man I loved... she took him too."

Ray could barely breathe as she ranted on, his heart thundering painfully against his ribs. He had suspected resentment, but this... this hatred ran deeper, darker than anything he could have imagined.

"Do you know why your mother—your precious mother—was always ill? Why she was never able to be as vibrant as she once was?" she spat, a sick, triumphant grin stretching across her face. "It was me, Ray. I did that to her. I made her weak, day by day, watching as her light dimmed. Six years, I watched her suffer."

Ray’s mind reeled, stomach churning with a mix of disgust and rage. He staggered, feeling as if the ground beneath him was collapsing. The revelation felt like poison seeping into his veins. She was the reason for his mother’s suffering, the shadow that had slowly drained the life out of her.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, filled with twisted satisfaction. "And then, one day, I pushed her off the roof. Just like that. Everyone thought it was an accident, a mistake—after all, I was only a child." Her lips curled into a mockery of innocence. "I crafted that perfect image, the sweet, pure-hearted girl everyone could trust. But my mother never cared about me, even then. It was always about her favorite daughters, the golden children, even if I was the smartest, the hardest-working."

Ray felt his skin crawl as she rambled on, every word cutting deeper. Her obsession, her bitterness, was all-consuming, a festering wound that had been hidden beneath a facade for years. And now, all of it was spilling out, dark and ugly.