The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 58: [Volume 1] - 58- Risk

Chapter 58: [Volume 1] Chapter 58- Risk

Ray scanned the room for what felt like the hundredth time, his patience thinning. The party was in full swing around him—guests mingling, laughter echoing, glasses clinking—but his focus was fixed on the entrance. Esme had been gone for nearly half an hour, and his growing concern was tinged with frustration.

Ray’s frustration mounted as he repeatedly dialed Esme’s number, each attempt met with the same disheartening message: "The person you are trying to reach is out of network coverage area." His brows furrowed in concern. Esme had always been reliable with her phone; it didn’t make sense for her to be unreachable.

After the third unsuccessful call, Ray’s worry gave way to irritation. He excused himself from the party, the lively chatter and clinking glasses now a dull backdrop to his anxiety. He made his way toward the bathroom, each step measured and slow, his patience wearing thin.

Outside the bathroom, he waited, scanning the area for any sign of Esme. The women exiting the restroom gave him curious glances, but none had seen her. Growing more anxious, he asked the attendant, "Have you seen Miss Rose inside?"

The woman shook her head. "No, sir. I haven’t seen anyone matching her description."

Ray’s heart sank. He continued to search, growing increasingly worried. His frustration flared when he saw the same waiter who had spilled wine on Esme. "Have you seen my wife, Miss Rose ? ."

The waiter looked at Ray with a polite but unhelpful expression. "I’m sorry, sir. I haven’t seen her."

Ray’s mind raced. The combination of his unanswered calls and the lack of information was unnerving. His frustration turned into urgency as he decided to continue searching.

Meanwhile, inside the suite, Esme’s body felt like it was on fire. She had tried to cool herself by heading to the bathroom, only to find it locked. Her attempts to kick the door open were futile. Desperate, she looked around the room for anything to help her, but there was nothing.

The room seemed to close in on her, the sweet smell making it hard to think clearly. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she slid down the wall to the floor, feeling utterly trapped.

The faint click of the door opening snapped her attention. Her hazy gaze lifted to see the waiter from earlier stepping into the room. He smiled, the expression eerily calm, and closed the door behind him with deliberate slowness.

Esme’s heart raced as she saw him start to undo his clothes, her fear intensifying. The sweet, cloying scent was overwhelming, and she felt her strength draining rapidly. Her head spun, and she struggled to process what was happening as the waiter approached her with a disconcerting calmness.

Ray, consumed by worry, stood frozen, his heart pounding. The voice in his mind had been a weak, trembling whisper—fragile and desperate. When he recognized it as Esme’s, a chill ran down his spine. Desperation surged through him as he glanced around, searching for any sign of her. He hurriedly retreated into a nearby room, slamming the door behind him. The silence was oppressive, almost suffocating.

"Where are you?" Ray’s voice broke the silence, a mix of desperation and urgency. He strained his ears for any sign of a response, but all he heard was the eerie stillness of the empty room.

"3-0-1," Esme’s voice came through again, faint and barely audible before the connection was abruptly lost.

Ray’s eyes widened in horror. "Esme? Esme!" He called out, his voice trembling with mounting fear. The silence that followed was unbearable. His face drained of color as he realized the gravity of the situation. The loss of connection could mean only two things: Esme had either overused her powers or was too weak to sustain the mental link. Both scenarios were dire, but the second was especially frightening.

He surveyed the room with frantic eyes, then yanked open the door. The dimly lit corridor stretched before him. He quickly moved to the next door, noting the number—2-0-1. If his calculations were correct, Esme was in room 3-0-1, three floors up. His heart raced as he opened the window and peered down. The balcony below was indeed three floors down. The hotel’s numbering system was unconventional; as you ascended, the room numbers decreased.

Ray’s thoughts churned with anxiety and determination after his accident. He had always pretended to be a cripple in order to survive. If people found out that he could walk, then he didn’t know what the elders might do, and they might start targeting him and his brothers again. Just the thought of it made him shudder but as he remembered Esme’s painful groan from earlier. .

Clutching his walking stick tightly, Ray took a deep breath, bracing himself for the jump. The risk was enormous, and any miscalculation could reveal his secret or lead to worse consequences. Yet, he had no choice. The urgency of the situation drove him forward.

With a final, steadying breath, Ray hurled himself out of the window. The fall was swift and terrifying, the wind howling past him. He landed heavily on the balcony of the third floor, the impact jarring through his body. Instinctively, he reached for the railing, gripping it with all his strength. The ground below loomed ominously, two floors down—too far to survive if he fell again.

Breathing heavily, Ray climbed up, each movement driven by sheer desperation. When he finally pulled himself over the railing and into the room, his heart sank at the sight before him.

There, on the floor, lay Esme, her body crumpled and marked with blood. The injury on her side was severe, a grim testament to her suffering. Her hand was drenched in blood, indicating that the injury was not her own, but inflicted on someone else.

Ray’s expression shifted from fear to anguish. He moved swiftly to Esme’s side, his heart aching at the sight of her battered form. His hands, trembling with both fear and determination, reached out to her, his mind racing with thoughts of how to help her, how to make things right.