The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 109: [Volume 1] - - professional.

"She was shot in the middle of her head. The shot must have come from outside."

Helga’s brow furrowed in confusion. "But you just said she was looking at the wall."

"Yes," Esme replied, her voice calm yet insistent. "You know how we talk? We walk around, shifting our focus. When we’re discussing something important, we often move and glance around. It’s natural."

She stepped closer to the security guard, mimicking the posture of someone on the phone. "This woman might have been engaged in a conversation, looking around as she talked. Then—bam! She was shot, and her gaze snapped back to the wall in those last moments, perhaps in shock or confusion. Within seconds, she died without even reacting."

Helga’s eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. "So, someone outside shot her while she was distracted, and in that moment, she didn’t see it coming. But why? What could have happened here?"

As soon as they were talking, the wail of police sirens echoed ominously from outside, and a smirk crept onto Esme’s face, a stark contrast to the horror surrounding them. Helga, however, felt a surge of frustration. "What? The police? But we didn’t call them."

Esme’s smile widened knowingly. "The one who called us here must have called the police too."

Helga’s surprise flickered across her features, confusion knitting her brows. "What do you mean?"

"Of course," Esme teased, her voice low but confident. "We walked right into a perfectly well-made trap."

Helga’s expression shifted, the seriousness of the situation dawning on her. "You mean it was made to... trap us?"

Esme shook her head gently, her tone laced with a calm resolve. "No, Helga. It was made to warn us."

"Warn us?" Helga’s brow furrowed deeper, struggling to comprehend.

"Yeah," Esme continued, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of revelation. "That person knew you would be taking pictures and documenting everything. They were already aware of us—every move we made. They chose this place because they knew there would be no evidence to prove anything. And yet, they weren’t even hiding their contempt for me."

She pointed toward the display where the pendant had once been showcased. "Look at the necklace."

Helga followed her gaze, her heart racing as dread settled in her stomach. "What about it?"

"The pendant is shattered," Esme explained, her voice steady as she gestured to the remnants. "Yet, the dummy it was on is still intact. It’s almost as if they wanted to send a message."

Fear ignited in Helga’s eyes, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. "What are you saying, Esme?"

Before Esme could respond, the police burst through the door, their uniforms stark against the dimly lit room. "Hands where we can see them!" one of the officers barked, scanning the chaotic scene with narrowed eyes.

Esme and Helga exchanged quick glances, a silent understanding passing between them that they were ensnared in a situation far more perilous than either had anticipated.

Helga approached the officers with a mix of determination and anxiety, recounting the events with clarity. She presented the photos as irrefutable evidence. The officers remained silent, their expressions betraying their disbelief as they examined the timestamps on the images. Once satisfied, they nodded, their authority momentarily rendered powerless by the truth laid out before them. "If we find anything, we’ll contact you," one officer finally said, but the weight of his words felt hollow. Helga and Esme turned to leave.

Settling into the backseat of their sleek black car, the atmosphere thickened with tension. Helga’s heart raced, her mind swirling with confusion and dread. "What do you mean by ’warn us’? Huh?" she demanded, her voice strained.

Esme offered a smile, enigmatic and knowing. Helga’s irritation flared as she pressed for clarity. "Why are you smiling? Tell me!"

With a hint of mischief, Esme replied, "She was warning me that she was going to kill me."

The weight of those words hit Helga like a punch to the gut, leaving her momentarily breathless. "What the hell? Why are you using ’she’? It’s like you know who that person is."

Esme’s smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. "No, but I know someone who used to work with the same essence and has a similar method of operation."

Helga leaned forward, urgency lacing her voice as she pressed Esme. "same essence , Esme. Who are you talking about?" Her heart raced, anxiety threading through her.

Esme smirked slightly, a flicker of something inscrutable dancing in her eyes as she closed them for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "The owner of Valhale Group," she finally revealed, the name dropping heavily between them like a stone.

Helga’s expression morphed from curiosity to shock, her mind racing to grasp the implications of that name. "You mean you?" she asked incredulously, trying to piece together what that meant for them.

Esme shook her head, her denial firm yet laced with tension. Helga’s confusion deepened; she knew Esme was the only one who ever spoke of the owner of Valhale Group with such familiarity and confidence.

"Wait," Helga’s thoughts snapped into focus, and a dawning realization washed over her. "You mean Mrs. Valhale?"

At that, Esme opened her eyes, a flicker of acknowledgment sparking between them. "Correct," she affirmed, but her tone was heavy, infused with an unspoken tension that sent shivers down Helga’s spine.

"But Mrs. Valhale is not like that," Helga countered, shaking her head in disbelief. "I’ve never seen her act that way. She’s always at home, keeping to herself. She has no reason to do this. If she’s as wise as you say, why didn’t she use it against you before? Why wait until now?"

Esme’s smile flickered momentarily, but it didn’t reach her eyes, which glimmered with unexpressed pain and buried memories.

"Before the accident, Mother had a way of dealing with people like this," she began, her voice softening as she reflected on her past, her eyes turning distant.

"Whenever she wanted to take care of someone, she’d use this trick. It’s part of my maternal family’s legacy—a kind of inherited art."