The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 33: [Volume 1] - 33- soup or poison.

Chapter 33: [Volume 1] Chapter 33- soup or poison.

There, held securely in her embrace, was another one of her mischievous loved ones, their face beaming with a mixture of triumph and affection. Esme’s eyes sparkled with warmth as she looked down at the young man she’d just lifted, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

"Caught you," she said softly, her voice full of affection. The playful energy in the air was palpable, a testament to the close bond they shared. The corridor, with its luxurious decor, seemed to echo with their laughter, turning the grand mansion into a place of love and warmth.

"Jay, how many times have I told you not to jump out from behind like that?" Ray chided, his tone carrying a note of seriousness. However, the corners of his lips betrayed him, curving into a gentle smile that softened his words.

Jay, undeterred by Ray’s mock-seriousness, pouted dramatically. "Come on, bro, she’s strong enough to lift me no matter how many times I sneak up on her," he retorted, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He turned to Esme, his grin widening as he sought her approval. "Right?"

Esme’s eyes sparkled with affection as she looked at Jay. She responded with a teasing lilt in her voice, "Yeah, I guess I am," while her lips curved into a warm, indulgent smile. Her gaze was filled with warmth and a hint of amusement, a clear reflection of her fondness for Jay’s playful antics.

Ray’s expression softened further, a mix of exasperation and amusement flickering across his face. He sighed, shaking his head as he watched the playful interaction between Jay and Esme.

"You guys...hah..." he began, his words trailing off as he struggled to find the right response. The exasperation was clear, but it was tempered by the genuine affection and fondness he felt for both of them.

The room seemed to hold its breath, the warmth of their bond palpable in every glance and smile.

Jay’s playful antics, Esme’s tender responses, and Ray’s affectionate frustration created a dynamic of love and camaraderie that made the grand mansion feel like a home.

Soon, everyone gathered around the elegant dining table, the room now filled with the soft clinking of cutlery and murmured conversations. The servants stood unobtrusively by the wall, their expressions a blend of attentive readiness and suppressed curiosity. In this household, both the Aron brothers and Esme preferred to serve themselves, a tradition that underscored their desire for a more personal and intimate dining experience.

Ray, taking a seat at the table with an air of quiet pride, turned to Esme with a soft, affectionate tone. "Darling, today I’ve cooked the soup for you," he said, his voice warm and sincere.

At his words, the servants, accustomed to the grand and sometimes tumultuous lives of their masters, froze momentarily. A look of pity flashed across their faces as they glanced at Esme. Their long experience with the Aron brothers had taught them one undeniable truth: while the young masters could move mountains with their will, their culinary skills were decidedly lacking. They recalled with wry amusement the last time one of them had attempted to cook—a culinary disaster that had landed their well-meaning chef in the hospital.

The contrast between Ray’s earnest declaration and the servants’ resigned expressions was almost comical. Esme, however, took Ray’s gesture in stride. She smiled warmly at him, touched by the effort he had put into preparing the meal. Her eyes sparkled with affection and a hint of mischief as she took a ladle of the soup Ray had made.

"Thank you, Ray," she said, her tone genuine. "I’m sure it will be delicious." She poured herself a bowl and took a sip, her expression a mix of curiosity and determination as she sampled the soup.

Ray, watching her with hopeful anticipation, held his breath. The servants, still standing silently by the wall, exchanged glances of muted concern and stifled smiles. For them, it was a moment of both tension and relief, waiting to see whether their young master’s culinary adventure would be met with acclaim or disaster.

As Esme tasted the soup, her face contorted in disbelief. The initial flavor was so off-putting that she had to force herself not to grimace.

’What the hell is this? Soup or poison?’

Her mind raced as she tried to understand how something so simple—a premade soup that required only adding warm water and boiling—could turn out so disastrously.

She placed her spoon down with a delicate clink, her hand trembling slightly. The soup had a taste so unpalatable, it felt like it was burning her tongue. She struggled to keep her composure, feeling a wave of nausea rising in her throat.

Esme glanced at Ray, who was watching her with hopeful eyes, and a mix of confusion and sympathy flashed across her face. She couldn’t believe that something so basic could be so terribly wrong. The thought that anyone could mess up a soup requiring such minimal effort was almost beyond her comprehension.

She forced a small, strained smile, her voice tight as she said, "Ray, this is... certainly something." She looked at the soup with a combination of bewilderment and resignation. "I’m surprised how you managed to make something so simple taste... like this."

The room’s atmosphere shifted, the servants, well aware of the kitchen disasters of their young masters, exchanged knowing glances. They had seen their masters attempt to cook before, but this level of mishap was truly remarkable.

Ray, oblivious to the true extent of the disaster, beamed with pride. "I’m glad you’re trying it," he said, clearly pleased with himself.

Esme forced herself to smile, the effort clearly visible as she met his gaze with a blend of affection and concern. "Thank you for making it, Ray," she said gently, trying to mask her discomfort. "It’s very thoughtful of you."

The room, filled with a tense but affectionate atmosphere, returned to its usual rhythm, as Esme navigated the delicate balance between her own shock and the warmth of their shared moments.