The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 292: [ Volume 1] Chaper 292- Not love us anymore

Chapter 292: [ Volume 1] Chaper 292- Not love us anymore

As for her husbands, Esme wasn’t worried. While they were at home now, she knew they weren’t the type to stay idle for long. They weren’t like other husbands who found contentment in domesticity. They thrived on action, on challenges. She had already planned for this—once the Valhale Group was shaken just enough, she would step in and take control. After all, it was her mother’s legacy, and no one, not even Diana, would take that from her. The future would unfold on Esme’s terms, and no one could stop her—not when she had the perfect balance of strategy, resources, and unwavering determination.

The corporate world would never know what hit it.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting the room in a warm, golden hue. It spilled across the bed where Ray lay sprawled on his stomach, the blanket tangled around his legs. His dark hair was a chaotic mess, sticking out in every direction, and the remnants of sleep lingered in his half-lidded eyes. He blinked lazily, following the quiet rustle of movement from across the room.

Esme stood near the dresser, her posture as sharp and precise as her outfit: a crisp black shirt tucked neatly into tailored white pants, paired with her ever-present white coat. Her hands moved with practiced efficiency as she fastened the strap of her watch, the small click of the clasp breaking the silence. She exuded a calm, unyielding focus, the kind that always made Ray feel simultaneously reassured and exasperated.

A soft groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself up, his muscles protesting the movement. His hair flopped into his eyes, and he trudged toward her with the uncoordinated steps of someone not quite awake. Esme turned at the sound, her stern expression softening the instant her gaze landed on him.

"Did I wake you?" she asked, her voice low and tender as she reached out to smooth his messy hair. Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, the simple gesture brimming with affection.

Ray shook his head, his lips barely forming the word, "No."

Esme’s eyes lingered on his face, noting the faint shadows beneath his eyes. Concern flickered across her features, but she kept her tone light. "You look exhausted. Go back to sleep, Ray. You need rest."

"I’m fine," he replied stubbornly, shaking his head again. "Where are you going?"

Her hands paused for a brief moment before she resumed fixing her watch. "Valhale. Just some routine work. Nothing to worry about."

His gaze sharpened at her answer, the fog of sleep dissipating. He stared at her intently, his eyes holding a depth of emotion he rarely voiced. Before she could say anything more, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into a firm embrace. "Be safe," he murmured against her shoulder, his voice steady but tinged with a quiet vulnerability.

Esme’s heart ached at his unspoken worries. She lifted her hand to stroke his back in slow, comforting circles. "I will," she promised, her words a soothing balm.

She couldn’t help but notice the changes in him lately. He slept more, his body craving rest. His appetite had become unusually selective, gravitating toward tangy, spicy, or sour flavors while rejecting anything sweet. Esme had quickly adapted, her pockets now always stocked with his favorite sour candies—a small but effective gesture to brighten his mood.

Reaching into her coat pocket, she retrieved one of the candies and held it up. Ray opened his mouth without hesitation, his trust in her implicit. The candy disappeared, and a boyish smile crept onto his face as the tangy flavor hit his tongue.

"Be safe," he repeated through the candy, his voice soft but firm. His expression shifted, a playful glint lighting up his eyes. "And when you’re back, I want steak. Medium rare."

Esme chuckled, the sound lightening the air between them. "Medium rare it is," she replied, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. But just as she turned to leave, his hand caught her wrist, halting her.

"What now?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ray didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer and reached for her collar, his fingers deftly adjusting it with an almost exaggerated care. "How are you supposed to save the valhale group when you can’t even fix your collar?" he muttered, his brow furrowing in mock exasperation.

Esme bit back a smile, her lips twitching as she watched him. She could hear Helga’s teasing words in her mind: "Let him think he’s saving the day, even if it’s just fixing your shirt. Men like feeling needed."

When he finally stepped back, satisfied with his work, she pressed a small handful of candies into his palm. "For the effort," she said, her tone teasing. "But only one candy per hour, alright?"

Ray gasped, clutching the candies to his chest as though shielding them from a terrible fate. "One per hour? You’re cruel, Esme! Absolutely heartless."

His hand dropped to his slightly rounded belly, and he patted it dramatically. "Hear that, baby? Your mama doesn’t love us anymore. She’s rationing our candies and calling us fat."

Esme rolled her eyes, but a soft laugh escaped her despite herself. "You’re impossible," she said, shaking her head.

Ray grinned triumphantly, already unwrapping another candy. "Impossible, but lovable," he shot back, his grin widening as he popped it into his mouth.

As Esme leaned in to kiss his temple, a memory surfaced: her mother’s sage advice from years ago. "Marriage is a battlefield where you’re always wrong. If your husband throws you out a window, it’s your fault for tripping. If he scolds you, it’s your fault for provoking him. Just say sorry and keep the peace."." The thought made her chuckle quietly.

"I’ll be back soon," she whispered against his skin. "Behave."

Ray gave her a mock salute, his grin never faltering. "Come home quickly, Captain Esme. Your crew is hungry."

With a shake of her head and a fond smile tugging at her lips, Esme turned and walked out the door, leaving Ray to savor his candies—and his theatrics—in peace.