The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 301: [ Volume 1] Chaper 301- Hawaii Vacation.

Chapter 301: [ Volume 1] Chaper 301- Hawaii Vacation.

Her thoughts raced as she tightened her hold on him, the anger bubbling under the surface like molten lava. This depth of betrayal, she thought, her nails subtly digging into her own palm to keep her composure. Aron, you bastard. You think you can mess with my family?

Ray shifted slightly in her arms, looking up at her with a hint of confusion. "Esme?" he murmured, his voice uncertain.

Esme smiled down at him—a soft, reassuring smile that masked the tempest raging within. "Don’t worry, honey," she whispered, her tone gentle. "Everything’s fine now."

But inside, her resolve solidified like tempered steel. Aron, you won’t get away with this. You’ll see what I can do. You’ll regret ever daring to meddle in my life.

As she pulled back from the hug, her hand lightly brushed Ray’s cheek, her touch warm and affectionate. "You just focus on resting," she said softly. "Let me handle the rest."

Ray, oblivious to the dangerous glint in her eyes, nodded, letting himself lean back against the pillows.

Esme stood and turned toward the door, her mind already forming a plan. Her lips curled into a subtle smirk as she muttered under her breath, "Aron, you’ve poked the wrong bear." Then, with a purposeful stride, she left the room.

.....

Aron’s face flushed a deep red as he stormed into Esme’s office, the door slamming against the wall with a bang. Esme, perched at her desk, barely flinched. She calmly lifted her gaze from the file she was reviewing, her expression serene and composed.

"Oh, Aron," she said with a sweet smile, her tone dripping with feigned surprise. "What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

Aron’s eye twitched at her seemingly innocent demeanor. He clenched his fists, trying to rein in his fury. "Is this your doing?" he spat, throwing a crumpled piece of paper onto her desk.

Esme raised a curious eyebrow, reaching for the paper. She smoothed it out and examined it, her lips curving into an almost imperceptible smirk. "Ah, a notice of leave cancellation," she mused, holding it up as if inspecting a work of art. "Well, it does bear my signature."

Aron’s jaw tightened, his patience hanging by a thread. "With what right," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, "have you canceled my vacation? I had plans—two months of peace, gone down the drain because of you."

Esme leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a look of exaggerated contemplation. Then, she offered him a bright, unapologetic smile. "Because, dear Aron, I am your boss."

Aron’s voice cut through the tense air like a blade. "Oh, is that so?" he sneered, his tone dripping with venom as he turned to face Esme. His sharp gaze bore into her, his irritation palpable. "Then can you tell me who gave you the right to send my wife—and even my child—on a trip to Hawaii?"

Esme, unfazed by his outburst, leaned forward, placing her hand on the table with a slow, deliberate motion. A sly smile played on her lips, her demeanor calm yet cutting. "My dear assistant," she began, her voice laced with mock sweetness, "it seems you’ve forgotten something. Your wife, Ms. Helga, is my secretary. As her boss, I have every right to grant her a well-deserved vacation."

Aron’s face contorted in exaggerated disbelief. "You? But who the hell gave you the right to send her to Hawaii? Of all places, Hawaii!" His voice rose, almost a shout, as he pointed dramatically at Esme. "Who does that? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? That place—" He paused, his hand twitching as though trying to articulate his thoughts.

In Aron’s mind, a terrifying cascade of associations began to form. Hawaii means beaches. Beaches mean people. People mean... mers. And mers mean... short clothes. No! No, no, no!

Aron’s panic spilled into his voice as he slammed his hand on the table. "If my marriage falls apart because of this—because of you—I swear, Esme, I’ll kill you!"

Esme tilted her head slightly, watching him unravel with an amused glint in her eyes. "Oh, Aron," she said softly, her tone deliberately patronizing. "You really should work on that overactive imagination of yours. Helga deserves a break. And if you’re so terrified of beaches and short clothes, maybe you should be the one to accompany her."

But Aron wasn’t listening. His thoughts spiraled further, his dread of Hawaii and all its implications gripping him like a vice. Helga, beaches, mers, short clothes... It was too much.

The casual declaration only fueled his anger. Aron glared at her with a cold expression, his voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. "Do you really think I won’t march straight to the employment office and sue you for overworking your employees? What you’re doing is illegal, Esme."

Esme tilted her head, her expression turning mockingly innocent. "Oh, is that so?" she said, her tone light. "Well then, perhaps I should join you at that very office."

Her sudden agreement caught Aron off guard, but before he could speak, she continued, her voice turning sharp and cutting. "I’ll happily present my case about how you’ve been pocketing ten times the salary of anyone else in your position. Or should I also mention the countless times you’ve physically assaulted me, leaving bruises? Let’s not forget last year, when you nearly killed me."

Aron froze, his breath hitching as the weight of her words sank in. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. "You’re... blackmailing me," he managed to stammer, his earlier bravado fading rapidly.

Esme leaned forward, her smile now razor-sharp. "Oh, blackmail?" she echoed with mock offense. "I prefer to call it... leveraging the truth. But if you’d rather label it as blackmail, well, I’m fine with that too."

Aron swallowed hard, his throat dry. For all his threats, he realized he had walked straight into her trap. Esme’s unwavering confidence and unshakable resolve made it clear: she held all the cards.