The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 110: [Volume 1] - - Mother!
Whenever Esme used the word "mother," it was always to refer to Madame Valhale before her accident, a figure shrouded in both reverence and mystery. It was rare for Esme to invoke her mother’s name, making the moment even more striking for Helga. This sudden mention stirred a complex mix of emotions within Helga—curiosity, confusion, and a hint of apprehension—as she realized that this was a side of Esme she rarely saw.
Helga leaned in closer, captivated by the story unfolding before her. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the weight of the moment.
Esme’s gaze turned further away, haunted by the memories that seemed to flicker in her mind like shadows. "My mother fell in love with my father when he was just a normal man—a secretary for Valhale Group. But my family didn’t approve. His background was too tainted by greed and corruption. People constantly tried to use him, blackmailing him for favors, and they even hurt him to maintain control."
Helga felt a knot tightening in her stomach at the vulnerability laced within Esme’s words. "But then what happened?" she pressed, needing to know the rest, her heart aching for the girl who had faced so much.
"Then, one day, his entire family disappeared," Esme said, her voice dropping to a barely audible whisper, laden with tension. "Without a trace. No proof, no bodies—just gone. It was as if they’d never existed." Her eyes clouded with the memory, reflecting a mix of sorrow and determination that left Helga feeling unsettled.
Helga’s heart raced as the implications sank in, a chill running down her spine. "You think Mrs. Valhale had something to do with that?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, the fear palpable in the air around them.
"I don’t know," Esme said, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned back in her seat. Helga gazed out of the window, noticing the pained expression etched in Esme’s features, a reflection of something deeper.
"Is it really true that someone could change so much after an accident?" Esme asked, her eyes distant, lost in thought.
Helga paused, taken aback. "Esme, what do you mean?"
Esme continued, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery. "I’m talking about a woman who could shake the entire city with just a flick of her finger. A woman who loved her husband so fiercely that she wouldn’t eat until he had finished his meal."
"You know," Esme began, her voice tinged with nostalgia, "I still remember when I was a child and my father got a paper cut. My mother caused such a commotion at the hospital over it; you’d think it was a life-or-death situation. Whenever she came home late from work, she would kneel in front of my father, apologizing until he forgave her. It was as if her love demanded acknowledgment, and he had the power to stand beside her as her secretary, even though he was a man."
Esme’s expression shifted, a mixture of confusion and sadness creeping into her features. "But how could that be possible? What does a loving couple do? My mother loved him to her very bones, going as far as to take care of her own family for him, never caring about what others said. Yet, after that accident—after she lost him—everything changed."
She shook her head as if trying to dispel the memories. "How can the woman who never touched a drop of alcohol, the one who promised him she would never drink, suddenly drown herself in it? And how could she turn her back on the child she adored, neglecting and even hating me? How can someone who was once so capable become so lost ?, How can someone change so completely in an instant?"
Helga remained silent, the weight of Esme’s words hanging in the air. It was a truth too heavy to bear, one that echoed in her own heart. She, too, was baffled. How could Madam Valhale—the formidable, loving, and caring mother—transform so drastically in the blink of an eye? It was a mystery that left both of them searching for answers in the shadows of their memories.
Suddenly, a vivid thought flashed in Esme’s mind, breaking through the fog of confusion that had clouded her for days. She turned to Helga, her voice steady yet urgent. "Helga, find everything you can about Mother and Father." The words "Mother and Father" resonated with significance, evoking memories of Mrs. Valhale before the tragic accident that had forever changed their lives.
Helga nodded, her expression serious as she recognized the weight of Esme’s request. Without another word, they resumed their journey, the car soon gliding to a halt outside the grand Aron Mansion.
Its dark stone facade loomed above them, a silent sentinel that held countless memories within its walls. As Esme stepped out, the crisp evening air filled her lungs, a mix of anticipation and anxiety coursing through her veins.
As she surveyed the entrance, her gaze landed on Ryan, who was walking toward her with a purposeful stride, looking as though he had just returned from a long day at work. The shadows of fatigue clung to him, hinting at the demands of his role. When he spotted Esme, he bowed his head slightly, a gesture of formality that felt oddly distant.
"Wife, you are back," he said, his tone bland and lacking the warmth she had hoped for. There was a mechanical quality to his words, a stark contrast to the affection she longed to feel.
Esme managed a small smile and reached out to pat his back gently, a silent gesture meant to bridge the gap between them.
Ryan , though his expression remained as blank as usual. He wasn’t the kind of person to openly show how he felt, but something about the tired look behind her smile made him pause. He glanced at her, trying to figure out how to ask, his voice low and a little uncertain.
"Are you okay?"
