The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 290: [ Volume 1] Chaper 290- how dare she

Chapter 290: [ Volume 1] Chaper 290- how dare she

After that day, Esme’s life became a relentless pursuit of answers. Her mind refused to let go of the lingering questions, the inconsistencies, the gaps in the story of her parents’ lives and deaths. It had been over half a decade since their tragic accident, but every attempt to uncover the truth seemed to hit a wall—or worse, disappear into thin air.

She started small, combing through the remnants of her childhood home. But her aunt and uncle had been thorough in erasing every trace of her parents. Even the pictures in the Valhale family estate had been destroyed. Only a few grainy phone photos and fragmented videos had survived the purge, but they weren’t enough. They gave her glimpses—her father laughing, her mother brushing her hair—but no concrete answers.

Determined, Esme broadened her search. She began investigating every place connected to her parents’ past. One of her first stops was the home her father had lived in before he married her mother. Ringard Mansion, as it was called, had been a beacon of family pride. But the story she uncovered was chilling.

The day her father had died, a sudden fire had engulfed Reinguard Mansion. The inferno had consumed everything—photos, records, heirlooms—every tangible piece of her father’s history. It was as if someone had deliberately erased his existence.

Esme’s gut churned with unease. What were the chances of such a perfectly timed disaster? She delved deeper, speaking to old acquaintances and neighbors of her father. Many were reluctant to talk, brushing her off with excuses. Those who did speak offered vague recollections, their memories hazy or suspiciously inconsistent.

As the days turned into weeks, Esme extended her search to other significant locations: her parents’ college, where they had met and fallen in love; the companies they had worked with; and even the sites of her father’s last expeditions. Everywhere she looked, the same pattern emerged. Records were missing. Photos and videos had been destroyed. People who might have helped had either disappeared or were unwilling to share.

One particularly frustrating discovery came from her parents’ college. Esme had hoped to find an old photo album, perhaps a group picture or a video from their days as students. But every archive she checked had been either damaged or purged. When she questioned the archivist, the response was unsettling.

"The files were destroyed years ago," the archivist had said, frowning. "Odd timing, really. It was during a campus renovation, right around the time of your parents’ accident."

The synchronicity was too perfect to be a coincidence. Every lead Esme followed seemed to point to one conclusion: someone, or something, was systematically erasing her parents’ past.

The realization sent a chill down her spine. This wasn’t just the work of time or neglect. It was deliberate. Someone had gone to great lengths to ensure that her parents’ lives—and their deaths—left no trace behind.

Esme’s resolve hardened. She couldn’t ignore the patterns. The fire at Ringard Mansion, the missing records at their college, the lack of photos or keepsakes—each incident had happened around the same time as her parents’ accident. And now, years later, the sudden appearance of the watch and the man in the video only deepened the mystery.

Her parents had always seemed larger than life—brilliant, loving, and invincible. But now, as Esme pieced together the fragments of their past, she realized just how little she truly knew about them. What had they been involved in? Who would go to such lengths to bury their legacy?

Esme clenched her fists, determination burning in her chest. If someone had gone to this much trouble to erase her parents’ existence, it meant they had something to hide. And Esme would uncover it, no matter how long it took.

Esme sat in her dimly lit room, the silence weighing on her like a heavy fog. Her hands massaged her aching temples, but the pain was deeper than just physical. She had been searching relentlessly, pouring through every fragment of her past to piece together the truth about her parents. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, the answers remained just out of reach, taunting her like a cruel game she never agreed to play.

Her head throbbed as her thoughts spiraled—memories, questions, doubts, all jumbled together in a maddening whirlpool. The faint creak of the door didn’t even register until a familiar hand gently brushed against her temple. The touch was soft, comforting, and instantly recognizable.

Without looking, Esme leaned back slightly, allowing herself to melt into the calming presence. She closed her eyes, exhaling a long, tired breath.

"You’ve been searching, haven’t you?" Ray’s voice broke through the fog, calm yet probing, as his hands began to knead the tension from her forehead.

Esme nodded faintly, her exhaustion reflected in the small, almost defeated gesture.

"Have you found anything?" he asked, his voice laced with quiet curiosity.

"No," she admitted, her tone heavy with frustration. "I’ve found nothing. Every lead either ends in ashes or silence. It’s like someone’s erased them from existence."

Ray didn’t respond right away, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles on her temples. "Can I ask you something?" he said after a moment, his tone carrying an undercurrent of something Esme couldn’t quite place.

She opened one eye, glancing at him skeptically. "Have I ever told you no?"

His lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "How did you find out about my grandfather?"

The question caught her off guard. She frowned, her thoughts grinding to a halt as she stared at him. "Seriously? That’s what you want to ask me? I’ve told you this before."

"Humor me," Ray said, his voice steady, his hands never pausing their soothing rhythm.

Esme sighed, leaning her head back against the chair. "After your second aunt’s death, I started digging into her connections. That’s how I found him."

Ray tilted his head slightly, his gaze unreadable. "And how did you find out about my second aunt?"

Her patience, already worn thin, began to fray. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her voice edged with irritation. "I looked into the entire Aron family, Ray. Every connection, every possible lead. I started from the beginning and worked my way through."