The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 337: [ Volume 1] Chaper 337- Rascals or saints?

Chapter 337: [ Volume 1] Chaper 337- Rascals or saints?

Chairs, benches, anything rigid was simply not to his liking. And that’s when he realized—Esme, with all her strength and poise, was the perfect solution.

Esme wasn’t overly muscular, not in the way some would imagine. She was slender, graceful, and undeniably beautiful, but beneath that exterior lay a body hardened by countless hours at the gym. Her legs, strong from intense workouts, her core, tight from dedication, but it was all hidden beneath her thin frame. It was that perfect balance of soft and strong, and the first time Ray had sat on her lap, it felt like he had found the perfect seat. Softer than any cushion but firm enough to hold him comfortably.

From then on, Esme became his personal cushion. No matter where they were, as long as Esme was nearby, her lap was the one place he would seek to rest, a comfort that no chair or object could match.

Esme couldn’t help but speak to him with a slight tone of helplessness, her voice gentle but tinged with a hint of frustration. "What are you doing outside?" she asked, shaking her head in a mock reproach. "I told you, you only had to wait one more hour."

Ray raised an eyebrow at her, his pout turning into something almost exaggerated as he looked up at her with an expression that bordered on stern. "Oh, really?" he responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, pointing at his bulging belly, he continued, "Do you think I wanted to come out? Maybe you should ask this thing," he added, nudging his stomach with a finger, his eyes never leaving hers. His words, a mix of playfulness and mock indignation, hung in the air, leaving Esme with no choice but to smile despite herself.

Esme looked at Ray, her fingers brushing over his protruding belly as she smiled teasingly. "You rascal, just stop. Don’t irritate your dada, or he might really kill me. Can’t you be a little calmer and quieter?" she said, trying to sound stern but failing as a small laugh escaped her lips. Despite her playful tone, there was a flicker of concern in her eyes.

Ray paused, his gaze locking with hers for a moment before a mischievous grin spread across his face. That smile— the one that made Esme’s stomach flutter— sent a wave of unease rushing through her. It was flattering, sure, but there was something about it that felt like she was about to step into a trap. And just as she thought that, the storm hit.

Ray’s smile twisted into something more wicked, and his voice dropped to a low, teasing tone. "What did you call my child?" he asked, his eyes narrowing with mock seriousness. "Huh? What did you say?" He leaned in, inching closer with a mock sternness that had Esme stifling a laugh.

Esme raised her hands, immediately on the defensive. "You called it thing before!" she countered, hoping to shift the blame.

Ray wasn’t having it. He crossed his arms and leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto hers with an exaggerated scowl. "I’m the one carrying it. I’m the one walking it around in my body like a personal incubator," he said, voice thick with mock indignation. "Who are you to call it a rascal, huh? Very nice, Esme. Very nice." He shook his head in feigned disappointment, tapping his temple. "When it wasn’t here, you were calling it an angel. An angel, Esme! And now, when the day’s finally near, you’re calling it a rascal? Humans, I tell you. Never to be trusted."

Esme blinked, genuinely trying to process what was happening. "Wait, what? You’re mad because I called our baby a rascal?" she asked, still in disbelief.

Ray put a hand over his heart and dramatically sighed. "Our baby? Oh, now you’re on my side?" He shook his head. "You can’t trust people who change their tune so fast!"

Esme rolled her eyes but smiled. "You’re ridiculous, you know that? It’s a joke, Ray. A joke!"

Ray huffed dramatically, pacing around. "I knew it! I’ve been carrying this child for nine months, and now you’re calling it a rascal! I’m the one who’s been nurturing it. You were over here calling it an angel when it wasn’t even real, and now it’s here—" He paused and pointed accusingly at her, "—and now it’s a rascal? Really?"

Esme laughed, reaching out to grab his arm before he got too carried away. "Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll start calling it angel again. Does that make you happy, dad?" she teased, flashing a grin.

Ray stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow. "You think calling it ’angel’ will fix everything?" he asked, hands on his hips. "Nope. I need more than that, Esme. I need respect."

Esme let out a mock gasp, dramatically clutching her chest. "Respect? You want respect? After everything I’ve done, carrying our child around on my lap every day with you, and you’re out here demanding respect?" She was laughing so hard, she almost forgot they were in the middle of an argument.

Ray shot her a playful glare. "Yes. That’s right. I deserve respect!" He raised his hand and pointed dramatically. "And from now on, I expect to be called a saint for all I do around here."

Esme playfully rolled her eyes. "A saint, huh? If you’re a saint, then I must be the Devil. Fine, Saint Ray, I apologize. Please forgive my mortal sins of calling your precious baby a ’rascal.’" She gave a mock bow, hands clasped together as though in prayer.

Ray stood tall, trying to hold his "serious" expression but failing miserably when a smile broke out. "Good. I’m glad we understand each other now." He pulled her into a quick hug. "But for the record, I’m still expecting saintly treatment for the next few months."

Esme laughed, resting her head against his chest. "Deal, Saint Ray. You’re lucky you’re cute."

Ray grinned. "I know. I’m the total package."