The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 230: [ Volume 1] Chaper 230-Was it wrong.

Chapter 230: [ Volume 1] Chaper 230-Was it wrong.

"You know, Helga, I’ve seen fragments of who I used to be, those faded memories surfacing, and I wonder if they’re all I have left to hold onto. If I were to die today, who would remember me? Maybe just you and Aron." Her voice was weary, touched with a fragility Helga hadn’t heard before.

"I’m so tired, Helga. Always running—always setting a standard for others, this model of success, and for what? Somewhere in all that proving, I’ve forgotten who I really am."

Esme’s expression softened, almost wistful. "I remembered my parents the other day. It came back to me, a memory I didn’t even realize I’d been holding onto. I was just a child then, carefree, bounding from my mother’s arms to my father’s, so secure and loved. Back then, I was truly... happy. Even later, in college, I had that spark. But now?" Her gaze met Helga’s, the weight of years and expectations filling her eyes. "Now, I don’t even know what happiness means. I thought happiness was proving myself, building Valhalla, and then Aron Group. People call me ’President’ or whatever title they think fits. But I don’t even know if I understand what happiness truly is."

Helga swallowed, the words hitting her harder than she expected. "Esme... it’s not just about the titles or the accomplishments. You’ve done so much good. There are people whose lives you’ve changed—who would miss you terribly."

Esme’s lips curled into a faint, almost resigned smile. "Would they, Helga? Maybe, but for how long? A few days? A week at most? Then I’d just be a memory, one they’d replace with the next fleeting concern." She sighed, her voice dropping. "Today, as I was holding onto that cliff edge, dangling there... I wasn’t afraid. For a moment, I even wondered if I should just let go."

Helga’s eyes widened, her hand reaching involuntarily toward Esme as if to anchor her to something. "Esme, don’t say that. Please don’t say things like that."

"Relax, Helga," Esme reassured her, a faint smile tugging at her lips, a strange comfort in her words. "I’m not suicidal. I don’t think. If I were, I wouldn’t have held on so tightly. But it made me realize something—I’ve been holding myself back all these years, hiding parts of me out of fear. I was afraid that using my full strength, my power, would consume me, that I’d burn out too soon. But now, it feels irrelevant. Maybe I should just unleash it all. See what it feels like to be truly alive again." She paused, a glint of something fierce—almost nostalgic—lighting up her face. "I remember watching my mother wield that power, laughing as she did. I wanted to feel that... that reckless freedom. Maybe it’s time I stopped holding back."

Helga’s hand found Esme’s, squeezing it tightly. "Esme, you don’t have to do this alone. You have people who care about you—more than you realize. We’re not here just for the person you’ve become or the titles you’ve earned. We’re here for you."

Esme looked at her friend, something softening in her eyes as if Helga’s words had peeled back a layer of the weight she carried. "Maybe, Helga. Maybe."

But there was a lingering sadness in her gaze, the kind that suggested she’d been alone for so long, the idea of leaning on someone else felt foreign, almost like a dream.

....

In the stark white of Ray’s room, the stillness was almost unsettling. Ray sat in silence, fresh from a bath, his hair damp, his gaze distant and unfocused. Ryan’s hands moved with practiced ease as he finished bandaging Ray’s bruised knuckles, the silence hanging heavily between them. He glanced up, eyes searching Ray’s face before finally breaking the quiet.

"Something wrong, brother?"

Ray turned to meet Ryan’s steady gaze, the weight of his thoughts clear in the brief pause before he spoke. "Ryan... have you seen Esme today?" His voice was low, almost disbelieving, as if he still couldn’t wrap his mind around what he’d witnessed.

Ryan noted the unease in Ray’s voice and continued to wrap his other hand, focusing on the task as he listened. But Ray’s expression tightened, his composure visibly cracking. "Don’t you think something’s wrong?" he pressed.

Ryan didn’t answer right away, instead methodically packing up his bandages and supplies. Only after a beat, he spoke, "What’s wrong?"

Ray reached out, gripping Ryan’s wrist with a sudden intensity. "Stop it. Just... listen to me. Don’t you think it’s wrong? She killed our second aunt. I understand that. But she didn’t stop there, Ryan—she took down all the guards, and then she burned the entire place to ashes. How can you not see something’s off? And then, when we got home, the way she treated the bodyguards..." His voice trailed, the words heavy with a mixture of confusion and something bordering on fear.

Ryan met his gaze calmly. "Can I ask you something, brother?"

Ray nodded. "You don’t need to ask. Just say it."

Ryan’s voice was even, almost contemplative. "Has Esme really done anything wrong?"

Ray faltered, his thoughts clashing. Had what she done been terrifying? Yes, without a doubt. But wrong? If anyone dared to suggest that her actions were unjust, Ray couldn’t quite agree. Everything Esme had done—every brutal step—had been to protect him, to ensure his and Ryan’s safety.

Ryan’s calm words cut through the storm in Ray’s mind. "You know, she has more than five or six fractures."

Ray’s shock was unmistakable, his eyes widening as he stared at Ryan. "What?"

Ryan nodded, his tone solemn. "I don’t even know how she survived. She fell from that hill—the same one that’s taken so many lives. People have died from far less. But Esme? She somehow managed to survive that fall, even with those injuries, and then fought our second aunt and her guards. She didn’t just survive, Ray. She brought you back, no matter the cost." Ryan’s words held a quiet awe.

"If anyone else had been in her place, they’d be lying in a hospital bed right now. But Esme... she somehow made it home and even managed to take care of the bodyguards."