The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 217: [ Volume 1] Chaper 217- You....

Chapter 217: [ Volume 1] Chaper 217- You....

Then, as if responding to her call, it dove toward the horizon, a flash of blue and silver that seemed to leave behind a trail of magic.

Three bullets flew through the air, each one a harbinger of death. She felt the sharp sting of pain as they struck her, the heat of blood spilling forth. But she had positioned herself in front of her husband, a barrier against the impending doom.

From the car, her husband’s face twisted in horror. He had been told to stay put, to keep safe, but how could he do that when his wife was in danger? He had to help her. Tears blurred his vision as he threw the car door open.

"Wife!" he shouted, heart racing, rushing toward her. "No! Please, stay with me!"

He dropped to his knees beside her, cradling her head in his trembling hands. She looked up at him, her vision growing dim, but her spirit flickered with determination.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice weak but resolute. "I had to protect you... to protect our children..."

"No! You can’t leave me! You’re going to be okay!" he cried, desperation flooding his words. "Please, just hold on! We’ll get through this together!"

But the light in her eyes was fading, the warmth of their love slipping away like sand through his fingers. "Promise me," she gasped, her breath hitching. "Promise you’ll keep them safe..."

"I promise! I’ll do anything! Just don’t go!" He felt the world crumbling around him, the weight of despair heavy on his shoulders.

But she smiled faintly, her strength waning. "Take care of the kids. They need you."

A single tear escaped his eye as he watched her slip away, the warmth of her body growing cold. Her hand fell limp in his, and he could feel the tether of their love unraveling before his eyes.

As her breath stilled, an anguished scream erupted from his throat. It was a sound born of pure, unadulterated grief, echoing through the darkness.

But amidst the chaos and pain, a flicker of rage ignited within him. He would not let her sacrifice be in vain.

With a final, anguished look at her lifeless body, he stood tall, fury coursing through his veins.

"Why? Why?" he muttered, his voice trembling, the single word escaping him over and over as he stared at his wife lying motionless before him, her once warm presence now an aching void. The second aunt approached, bending down beside him, her face twisted in a mix of annoyance and false sympathy.

"You know," she began in a spoiled tone, "I didn’t want to kill her. You know that, don’t you?" Her voice dripped with a feigned innocence, a performance poorly masking her satisfaction. "It’s all her fault," she added, as if the words themselves could erase the blood between them.

The man’s gaze shifted slowly, rising to meet her eyes. He searched her face, his own hollowed and pale, his lips moving weakly as he murmured once more, "Why?"

Her face twisted in frustration. "What do you mean by ’why, why, why’? Is that all you can say?" she snapped, exasperation creeping into her tone. She straightened, brushing off her dress with a huff. "Look at you," she chided, her eyes sliding over his suit with a hint of disdain. "Blood on such a beautiful outfit. If you don’t change it now, it’ll stain. Do you hear me?"

But he was unmoved, his mind lost in a haze of disbelief, as if he were drifting far from her words, far from the world itself. The metallic smell of blood clung to the air around him, thick and undeniable, and his trembling hand clenched into a fist.

The second aunt’s face softened for a moment, as if recognizing his grief, but the glint in her eyes betrayed a satisfaction she couldn’t quite hide. "Come along," she cooed, reaching out to guide him away, as though this could be erased, washed away with a new suit, a fresh start.

But he did not move. He remained by his wife’s side, haunted, each breath shallow, each heartbeat heavy with the weight of that single, unanswered question: "Why?"

The man’s eyes locked onto the glinting gun still clutched in Second Aunt’s hand. A surge of fury shot through him, and with a powerful shove, he forced her back, ripping the weapon from her grip. Just as he seized it, he noticed the other woman standing behind Second Aunt, her finger already curling around the trigger, but he didn’t hesitate.

Bang!

The shot echoed through the still air, tearing into the silence with brutal finality. The woman fell instantly, her body hitting the ground with a dull thud, lifeless eyes staring at nothing. The man’s breaths were shallow, coming in ragged, uneven bursts, his body trembling with fury and disbelief. He spun back toward Second Aunt, and the raw pain and betrayal in his gaze made her take a wary step back.

"You... you bitch!" His voice cracked, each word like a jagged blade cutting into the air between them. "I thought you were my friend! I trusted you. Treated you like family, for God’s sake!" His voice rose, almost choked with grief. "And this... this is what you do?" He shook his head, anguish mingling with his rage. "She was your sister! She did everything for you, even turned against her father to protect you! And this is how you repay her?"

His words seemed to cut deep; for a moment, Second Aunt’s face flickered with something like regret or fear. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. She managed a weak smile, her eyes darting between the gun in his hands and his face. Blood had begun to seep into the fabric of her clothes, staining the delicate material she had fussed over only moments ago. She took a step toward him, her hands held out, palms open in a sickly display of submission.

"Listen... just listen to me," she gasped, her voice laced with desperation, her fingers trembling slightly. "Put down the gun. I can explain this. It’s not... it wasn’t her fault. She was... weak. She—"