The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 264: [ Volume 1] Chaper 264- broken.

Chapter 264: [ Volume 1] Chaper 264- broken.

Once. Nothing.

Twice. Still nothing.

The bill smoldered, and he tried again, watching Esme’s anxious eyes as he held his breath. Finally, on the fourth try, the smoke detector responded, and the piercing wail of the fire alarm echoed through the hotel. The entire building seemed to shudder with the sound as people stirred from their rooms, doors swinging open on every floor.

Aron looked at Esme, worry in his eyes. "But how will we find him in all this chaos? They’ll try to escape too if they think there’s a fire."

Esme’s jaw was set. "They’re kidnappers, not ordinary guests. They won’t run with Cain if they think it’s a real emergency. They’ll want to keep him out of harm’s way, and they won’t risk exposing him or themselves in a crowd."

Just as she predicted, guests spilled from their rooms in various states of disarray—some still in robes, others clutching children or small bags as they hurried toward the exits. The hallways were soon flooded with people, their hurried footsteps and murmured confusion filling the air. Esme scanned the sea of faces and open doors, hoping for a clue, for some sign of Cain. But her heart sank as she swept her gaze from door to door, face to face, finding only strangers in the blur of the crowd.

Then, her eyes fell on a lone figure standing at the end of the hallway, near a door that remained shut while every other room emptied.

Esme’s jaw tightened, her voice edged with tension as she turned to Aron. "Search every room," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. Aron looked at her, catching the flicker of desperation in her eyes before she whirled away, her steps urgent. A muscle in his jaw ticked as he watched her disappear down the hall. Is this her idea of a plan? he thought, frustration swirling like a low-burning flame inside him. But there was no time to question her; he took off down the opposite corridor, determined to find what—or who—they were looking for.

They began their search methodically, first floor to the second, combing through each room in swift but thorough sweeps. Room after room revealed nothing but dim shadows cast by the flickering, ancient light fixtures. The air felt thick, oppressive, as if the house itself held its breath, waiting.

By the time they reached the third floor, Aron felt the weight of his own frustration simmering dangerously close to the surface. They’d searched nearly ten rooms up here, each yielding nothing but dust and cold silence. He was about to call out to Esme when her sudden, sharp intake of breath stopped him in his tracks.

"Esme?" he asked, moving closer, but her gaze was fixed, her face pale and frozen as she stared into the room ahead.

"What is it?" he demanded, feeling his own heartbeat pick up, a cold edge of fear threading through his irritation. But Esme remained silent, as if words had been stripped from her.

Aron followed her gaze, and his breath hitched. The room before them was a disaster—a chaotic mess of broken furniture and shattered glass, as though a violent storm had swept through, tearing apart everything in its path. Pieces of paper fluttered down from an overturned desk, drifting aimlessly like memories disintegrating into fragments.

But it wasn’t the destruction that seized their attention—it was the faint, almost ghostly scent of lavender that hung in the air, as if the room held a secret it had yet to reveal. The scent was strange, unsettling in its sweetness, out of place amidst the ruin. It teased the edge of their senses, stirring something dark and old, lingering like a haunting memory from another time.

Esme swallowed hard, her hand instinctively reaching up to her throat, her eyes wide with something Aron rarely saw—fear.

Esme’s heart raced as she rushed inside, her eyes darting frantically around the room, taking in the bloodstains that dotted the floor like a haunting trail. The bed was soaked in droplets, the red evidence of something terrible. She didn’t pause to process it—her steps quickened, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she noticed a door at the far end of the room. She yanked at the handle, but it refused to give. The frustration bubbled up inside her, and with a growl of anger, she kicked the door with all her might. It splintered open with a loud crack, and she burst into the next room, her breath catching in her throat.

There, in front of her, was the body. A lifeless, limp form on the cold stone floor. Her stomach twisted at the sight. She knew who it was—Cain.

Her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her to him, though every step felt like it was dragging her through thick mud. His body was broken, bruised and battered with a multitude of wounds, each one a reminder of the violence he had endured. The blood pooled beneath him, the dark crimson staining the floor as if it could never be erased. His eyes, once sharp and full of life, were dull now, empty. It was a sight that made her blood run cold. But it was what lay beneath that made her heart twist in horror.

Cain had been violated, his body abused in ways that no living soul should endure. Esme’s hand trembled as she reached out, desperate to help, to comfort him in whatever way she could. But as her fingers brushed against his skin, the once-proud man slapped her hand away with a force that took her breath away. Despite the blood soaking his body and the clear signs of death on his doorstep, there was no mistaking the hatred and disgust that shone in his eyes. His gaze pierced her, as if her touch was more painful than anything else he had suffered.

Esme froze, her heart shattering at the rejection, her fingers still tingling from where he’d struck her.