The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 45: [Volume 1] - 45- How dare you..

Chapter 45: [Volume 1] Chapter 45- How dare you..

The mer finally hesitated, staring at her as if trying to decipher her words. The smile remained plastered on Esme’s face, but internally, her mind raced to come up with the next distraction. She could feel the seconds ticking by, each one bringing her closer to the moment she would have to decide—stalling for the brothers, or taking matters into her own hands.

Her fingers twitched, ready to strike if the moment called for it. The mer was too close now, too focused on her. If she was going to act, she needed to be quick, but she wasn’t ready to play that card just yet.

"Tell me, ," she whispered softly, keeping him engaged, "why risk everything for someone like me?"

"Are you crazy? "he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. "You’ve been poisoned, and you’re still making jokes?"

Esme shrugged, letting her hands fall from her face. "What can I say? Old habits die hard."

"You’ve talk me so much for a CEO," the mer said, still smirking, "but I must admit, I’ve enjoyed all of it." His voice was low, predatory, as he closed the distance between them.

Esme, her energy all but gone, knew she had only moments left. She calculated the time in her head, counting down to when the brothers would arrive.

Ten... nine... eight...

The mer leaned closer, his face only inches from hers. His breath was hot on her skin as his lips hovered dangerously near.

Five... four... three...

Suddenly, a loud crash shattered the tension in the room. The door exploded open, and before the mer could even turn around to see what had happened, a powerful kick struck him directly in the chest, sending him flying across the room. He crashed into the window with a sickening thud, crumpling to the ground in a heap.

The one who delivered the blow stepped into the room, his eyes filled with disgust as they landed on the mer. It was Kay, and his expression barely concealed the rage boiling inside him. He gave the mer one more look of contempt before shifting his gaze to Esme, who was still lying on the floor, weak but smirking.

At that moment, Kay looked like he wanted to scold her—maybe even give her a hard kick himself—but with someone else in the room, he held back. He stepped over her, pretending to ignore her entirely. But as he did, his foot "accidentally

hard enough to elicit a jolt of pain.

Esme winced but didn’t cry out. She knew this was coming. She had known Kay long enough to predict his every move, including his petty acts of frustration. Despite the pain, a soft laugh escaped her lips. She had anticipated this moment so well, even bracing her hand before he could stomp on it.

Kay, ignoring her laugh, continued toward the fallen mer. He glanced back at her for a brief second, his face unreadable, before muttering under his breath, "We don’t have time for your games, Esme."

Esme lay sprawled on the floor, her breath shallow as she tried to steady herself. Only she knew the depth of the rage boiling beneath her calm exterior, how hard she fought against the violent impulse to snap that man’s neck in an instant. Every muscle in her body screamed for release, but she forced herself to remain still. Her restraint was the only thing keeping her from crossing the line, from letting the room descend into chaos.

Outside the office, murmurs grew louder as a crowd gathered at the door, drawn by the commotion. Faces peered in, curiosity and concern etched on their features, trying to make sense of the scene before them.

Ray and Kay, having noticed the onlookers, hurried towards Esme, their roles as the caring husbands slipping on like a well-rehearsed mask. Kay reached her first, his movements swift yet careful as he bent down, sliding an arm around her shoulders to help her up. His hands lingered on her a moment longer than necessary, steadying her as if she were fragile, though the tension in his grip told a different story.

Ray, still in his wheelchair, rushed to pass her a water bottle. His voice trembled with worry, his eyes wide as if he were genuinely afraid for her. ", are you okay, darling? Are you hurt anywhere?" he asked, his tone laced with concern that was almost too perfect. He looked at her with wide, pleading eyes, as though the very thought of her being hurt tore at his soul.

The absurdity of the scene wasn’t lost on Esme. Inside, she wanted to laugh at the irony of it all—just moments ago, these two were ready to tear her apart, and now they played the part of doting husbands in front of the crowd. *Bravo,* she thought, biting back her anger. *What acting. It’s almost believable.*

But Esme knew the game. She forced a weak smile, her body sagging as if the weight of her exhaustion had finally caught up to her. "Yeah," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think so. It’s just... my body hurts so much, and my head..." She trailed off, pressing a hand to her temple as though the pain were overwhelming.

Kay leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around her in a hug that felt more like a cage than comfort. "It’s okay," he murmured into her ear, his voice soft enough for only her to hear. He patted her back, the gesture meant to be soothing, but the slap, though gentle to an outsider, held an underlying force that nearly made Esme choke. The impact rattled through her already weakened body, so much so that she had to grit her teeth to stop herself from coughing up blood.

The crowd watched with silent fascination, unaware of the tension simmering beneath the surface of the seemingly tender moment. Kay’s hand rested on her back, his fingers pressing just hard enough to remind her of who was really in control. His smile never wavered, the perfect mask of concern for the onlookers.

Esme met his gaze briefly, the forced smile still on her lips. She leaned into him, playing her part, but the fire in her eyes told a different story. *This isn’t over.*