The Heiress's Comeback
Chapter 92: [Volume 1] - 92- Helga is back .

Chapter 92: [Volume 1] Chapter 92- Helga is back .

The Aron brothers exchanged glances, wanting to ask Esme if her omelette was really more important than the chaos unfolding around her. But they could only stare at her in speechless disbelief.

Helga, noticing Aron kick Esme, turned to him with irritation. "What kind of behavior is this? How dare you kick the president? Huh?"

Aron pouted, rolling his eyes. "What president? You just care about this bitch—" he mumbled under his breath.

Helga raised an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," he quickly replied, forcing a pitiful expression. "I miss you, baby."

In an instant, Helga grabbed his ears and tugged. "Oh, and who was it that left me with a short note saying he was leaving? Huh?"

The room filled with a mix of laughter and tension as the playful banter continued, highlighting the odd dynamics between them all.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch! Let me go!" Aron winced, his weak expression revealing both frustration and vulnerability. Helga glanced at him, unfazed by his protests. Her gaze shifted to Esme, who sat leisurely at the table, enjoying her omelette with an air of serene satisfaction.

Seeing his carefully laid plans unraveling, Aron pointed an accusatory finger at Esme. "It’s this woman! I told her I just gave birth; I can’t be here. But she insisted I come, and look what she made me do!"

Helga’s brow arched as she assessed Aron’s neatly pressed butler attire, a mix of formality and discomfort. "Really?" she replied dryly, her tone betraying little sympathy. Esme, however, seemed to relish the unfolding drama, calmly setting her phone on the table and hitting record.

The recording captured a conversation from the previous day, where Aron had confessed his desire to escape from home, overwhelmed by the new responsibilities of parenthood. "She just focuses on the baby," he had lamented, his voice tinged with desperation.

Helga turned her gaze back to Aron, her expression sharp. Aron met her eyes, tears glistening, as if he were ready to unleash his pent-up frustrations. Yet Esme merely smiled, unbothered, her attention drifting back to her omelette as if this scene were merely an entertaining interlude.

Aron’s brothers exchanged incredulous glances, bewildered by Esme’s ability to provoke conflict while remaining so nonchalant.

"How can she stir up a fight between them and still enjoy her meal?" one murmured, eyeing the omelette as if it were some mystical dish that could withstand the chaos around it.

With a slight bow, Helga turned to Ray. "Could you kindly direct me to the guest room?"

Ray pointed upstairs, and Helga offered a grateful smile. Without hesitation, she grabbed Aron by the ear, her grip firm yet playful.

"Come on, we need to sort this out," she said, her tone leaving no room for protest as she began to lead him away.

Clank.

Esme set down her knife and fork, a contemplative look crossing her face as she turned to Helga. "Helga, stop," she said firmly, directing her attention to Aron.

His expression was a mix of confusion and disbelief. Aron couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that this woman—Esme—was offering to help him. Yet, in this moment of desperation, he felt a flicker of hope. He looked at her, his eyes pleading, silently begging for assistance.

Esme looked at him with a mocking smile before turning her gaze back to Helga. "Give the baby here," she said, her voice firm yet gentle. After a brief pause, she added, "It’s not good for the baby to hear all of that."

Helga’s brow furrowed as she contemplated her words, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. After a moment, she nodded, carefully unstrapping the baby and placing him in Esme’s arms. She beamed down at the child, her heart softening.

"Take the third room," she instructed, gesturing towards upstairs. "It’s soundproof." Her tone was both practical and reassuring, a hint of warmth lingering in the air.

Aron knew it—this woman was never to be trusted. He muttered under his breath, "If I survive this, I’ll kill you," as he handed the baby over.

Esme’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It was as if she was saying, "Good luck if you survive." The playful tension between them hung in the air, both aware of the absurdity of the moment.

With that, Helga pulled Aron toward the room, leaving Esme cradling the baby, her demeanor transforming into one of warmth and playfulness. "Hello, little one! Who’s here with me?" she cooed, gently rocking him.

As soon as they left the room, Ray turned to Esme with a worried look. "This isn’t good. You’re not doing it right."

Esme, still laughing at the baby, raised an eyebrow. "Hmm? What?"

Ray pressed on, his concern deepening. "How can you let them have that room? If anything happens, we won’t even hear them! What if it turns into something big?"

Esme smiled knowingly. "Trust me, it’s alright," she replied, her gaze soft as the child wrapped his tiny fingers around her own.

But seeing Ray’s still worried look, Esme sighed. "You know, Ray, there’s a famous line from an author..."

Ray looked at her, puzzled. "Is this really the time for poetry?"

"It’s quite popular. You might have heard it," Esme continued, her tone light. "The one who falls in love first is the one who loses first."

"And believe me, Ray," Esme said, her tone serious now. "The one who fell first was Helga, and the moment she fell, she’s already lost."

Ray frowned, trying to process her words. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think was going on behind that door? Do you really think Helga was going to beat him?" Esme asked with a smirk while cuddling the baby.

Aron’s brothers just looked at her, raising an eyebrow as if to say, Isn’t that obvious?

Esme smiled mischievously. "No, quite the opposite. Let me tell you what was really happening."

On the other side of the door, Helga closed it with a decisive click, the sound echoing in the quiet room.