The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 179: [ Volume 1] Chaper 179- Hidden Truths

Chapter 179: [ Volume 1] Chaper 179- Hidden Truths

Aron glanced at Esme one last time. He could feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. If he stayed in the room for even a moment longer, he knew he might say or do something he couldn’t take back. With a clenched jaw and a heavy heart, he turned sharply on his heel and stormed out of the office, needing space to clear his head.

But Helga remained. Silent and composed, she stood in front of Esme, her eyes unwavering. She didn’t need to speak; her presence was enough to fill the room with unspoken questions and emotions. Esme, seated back in her chair, felt the weight of Helga’s gaze but refused to meet it at first. Slowly, though, she raised her head, her eyes locking onto Helga’s, who watched her like she always did—without judgment, but with an intensity that pierced through the façade Esme had so carefully built.

Esme sighed softly and lowered her head, unable to hold the weight of that gaze any longer. "Is there something else you want to say?" she asked quietly, her voice strained.

Helga remained silent, her expression unchanged for several long moments. The room was thick with the tension of everything unspoken between them. Then, finally, she spoke, her tone soft but steady. "You know, I’m always here for you."

Esme froze, the words hitting her harder than she expected. She looked up at Helga, her body stiffening. Those words, so simple, carried a depth she wasn’t prepared for.

Helga’s eyes, warm and knowing, saw through her as if she were made of glass. Even if the rest of the world couldn’t see the truth, Esme knew she couldn’t hide from Helga—not her pain, not her fears, and certainly not the part of her she tried so hard to bury.

Esme exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging as she nodded almost imperceptibly. "Hmm, good," was all she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Helga didn’t push. She gave a slight nod, accepting Esme’s response for what it was. Then, without another word, she turned and left the office, her footsteps echoing softly down the hall.

As she walked past the desk where Aron had been seated moments ago, she noticed the small box lying next to the computer. Her eyes fell on it, immediately recognizing what it was—a cigarette packet.

Helga took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, her thoughts swirling as she made her way to the elevator. She pressed the button for the rooftop, the quiet hum of the lift providing a brief moment of reflection. When the doors opened, the cool breeze of the rooftop greeted her, and there, standing by the edge, was Aron.

He was leaning against the railing, a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling up into the air. His gaze was fixed on the sky—an endless expanse of blue, untouched by the turmoil that gripped him inside.

The silence between them was thick, but Helga didn’t rush to fill it. She simply stood beside him, watching as he took another drag of the cigarette, exhaling slowly as if trying to release the weight of his thoughts.

Aron didn’t look at her, but his voice was low when he finally spoke. "I don’t know what to feel anymore, Helga."

She didn’t respond right away, letting the moment stretch between them, knowing that sometimes words weren’t what was needed. Instead, she looked at him with the same quiet understanding she had offered Esme moments before.

And in that silent exchange, Aron found some semblance of comfort, however fleeting.

In that orphanage, where the light never shone, he was known as an orphan, someone with no parents, no ties, no love. It was a lie, though—a lie that no one knew.

He did have a family, parents who had brought him into this world. He remembered them. His father was the main husband, not a concubine or some forgotten figure, but the very man who had cast him into that living hell.

His mother, on the other hand, always longed for a daughter. After two failed attempts—his elder brother being the first—her hopes crumbled.

Perhaps because the eldest son had been born healthy and strong, his father adored him, showering him with love and pride. But when the second son arrived, sickly and fragile, their world shifted.

Worse still, he wasn’t just sick—he was a mer. His father couldn’t bear it, couldn’t stand the shame of having a son who was different, who would stain his reputation.

He didn’t want his wife to see him in a new, lesser light. So, he committed an unspeakable act. His newborn son, weak and ailing, was thrown into a basement, hidden away from the world.

For years, the boy lived in that cold, dark place, never leaving, always coughing, his body getting weaker without proper medicine or care.

While his father played the part of the noble man, adopting a servant’s daughter and parading her as his own to please his wife, his true son was forgotten, slowly wasting away in the shadows. The father became a hero in his wife’s eyes, the man who gave her a daughter, the very thing she had longed for.

And so, the boy was left to his isolation. His small room was buried deep underground, far from the mansion, hidden in the most distant corner of the estate. It was a place his mother had never seen, a room she had no knowledge of.

The house was too big, too sprawling, and his mother’s attention was too scattered, stretched thin across her many husbands and fleeting obligations. She was, in a sense, absent from her own life, unaware of the world she lived in. She didn’t even know how many rooms the mansion held.

The basement where her second son was kept was cold and dark, lit only by the faintest sliver of air that came through a tiny window.

It was barely a window at all—just a 15-centimeter rectangular gap that allowed a meager amount of air to seep in.I