The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 361: [ Volume 1] Chaper 361- A strange sensation

Chapter 361: [ Volume 1] Chaper 361- A strange sensation

He opened his eyes and gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. He and his brothers had made a silent promise to one another: their children would never forget Esme. Even though they had never seen her, never felt her embrace or heard her voice, they would grow up knowing her.

" Mama also misses you guys. She loved you both so much.," Ray murmured, his voice trembling but full of conviction. He ran a thumb over his daughter’s cheek, his smile lingering despite the ache in his heart.

"Busy in your own little world, huh?" A voice broke through the tender moment. Ray turned to the stairway with a faint smile, already knowing who it was. Aaron descended the stairs, holding a folder in his hand, a familiar grin plastered across his face.

Aaron looked just as he always had. For all of them, Esme’s absence was a wound they refused to let scar. Though evidence of her loss was undeniable, none of them could fully believe it. Deep down, they clung to the hope that one day she might return. And if she did, they would not allow her to think they had moved on or forgotten her.

Now Aaron served as Ray’s secretary, a role he had taken on with quiet dedication. Reaching Ray, he extended the folder. "This is for the new collaboration," he said casually.

Ray smiled as he accepted it. "Thank you," he replied, his voice steady but warm.

Aaron, however, wasn’t done. Pulling a candy from his pocket, he crouched down and held it out to Ray’s daughter. Her eyes lit up as she took it with a shy smile. Aaron patted her head gently, his affection evident.

"Childish as ever," came a clear, slightly high-pitched voice. A small figure rushed into the room—a boy, around four years old, his steps quick and purposeful. He stopped in front of his sister, crossing his arms and glaring at Aaron with mock authority.

"You’re trying to bribe her again, huh?" the boy declared, his tone filled with exaggerated indignation.

Aaron raised an eyebrow and shot back, "You little rascal! How dare you accuse me of that?"

The boy didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head, his expression calm but firm. "Dad, how many times did Mama tell you not to use foul language?"

Aaron froze, utterly dumbfounded by the comeback. He opened his mouth to retort but found himself at a loss.

Ray chuckled softly, watching the exchange with amusement. "Dear mother and son," Aaron muttered, throwing up his hands in defeat. "You two will never let me have peace."

Ray chuckled softly, watching the scene unfold. "You’ve met your match, Aaron."

"Match?" Aaron scoffed, ruffling the boy’s hair in retaliation. "This little devil’s the whole battleground!"

.

.

.

The curtains fluttered inward, carried by a soft breeze that filled the quiet room. On the bed near the window, Esme lay still, her pale face framed by the soft white of her hospital gown. Her chest rose and fell slowly, almost imperceptibly, as if each breath was a battle.

Her eyelids flickered, trembling faintly, and then the steady hum of the heart monitor shifted.

Beep beep beep

A sharp beep pierced the silence, then another, louder, faster. The numbers on the screen began to climb, erratic and urgent.

Esme’s eyes fluttered open, her lashes trembling as if fighting against the heaviness that weighed her down. The sterile white ceiling blurred into focus, and with great effort, she raised her hand. It shook under the strain, the IV lines tugging at her skin, a stark reminder of how fragile she had become. Her fingers reached up, fumbling with the oxygen mask covering her face. Slowly, she pulled it away and drew a deep, shuddering breath.

"Ray..." she whispered, her voice hoarse, like the faint echo of a dream.

---

In the quiet of the study, Ray sat hunched over a stack of papers, the warm light from the desk lamp casting shadows across his face. This room was more than just a study; it was Esme’s sanctuary, a space she had filled with her presence, her thoughts, her essence. Since her absence, Ray had made it his own refuge—a place to think, to feel close to her.

As he scanned the documents, something pulled at him—a strange sensation, like a whisper brushing against the back of his mind. He stilled, raising his head to glance around. The room was empty, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t alone.

His eyes landed on the picture of Esme hanging on the wall. It was one he had placed there himself, a memory frozen in time. But now, something was wrong. He stepped closer, his brow furrowing as he noticed it: a crack, faint but undeniable, running across the glass.

His hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing over the fracture. It wasn’t there yesterday; he was sure of it. He cleaned this room himself, meticulous and careful, unwilling to let anyone else disturb her things.

A wave of unease washed over him. Ray carefully took the frame down, his heart tightening as he studied Esme’s face in the photograph. The crack seemed deliberate, cutting across her image as though mocking him. His fingers traced it again, and a strange sensation prickled at his skin.

Turning the frame over, he examined the back. It looked normal at first glance, but something didn’t sit right. His gut told him there was more to this than met the eye. He set the frame down on the desk, his hand reaching for the letter opener lying nearby.

With deliberate movements, he slid the blade along the edges of the frame, prying it open. The room seemed to grow quieter, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath. Piece by piece, he worked until the back panel came loose.

As it opened, a folded piece of paper slipped out, fluttering onto the desk like a leaf carried by the wind. Ray froze, staring at it as if it might vanish.