The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 143: [Volume 1] - - Get out of way.

"Don’t leave her side, Helga," Aron said, his voice firm even though his mind was spinning. "I’m coming. I’ll be there as fast as I can."

Without waiting for a response, Aron hung up, his jaw clenched, eyes focused ahead. He pushed the car faster, weaving through traffic like a man possessed. His thoughts swirled—what had triggered this? What had sent Esme spiraling back into that state?

Whatever it was, Aron knew one thing for sure—he couldn’t lose her. Not again. Not this time.

As soon as Aron reached the towering office building, he didn’t waste a second. He swerved onto the sidewalk, startling pedestrians who scrambled out of his way. He honked furiously, clearing the path as he drove right into the public hall of the Aron building, tires screeching against the polished floor. The sound echoed, and all eyes turned to him in shock and confusion.

Without a care for the commotion he’d caused, Aron jumped out of the car, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. His expression was grim, a man on a mission. He tossed the car keys at the front desk receptionist, who fumbled to catch them, wide-eyed.

"Take care of my car," Aron barked, his voice sharp with urgency. "If there’s any scratch, we’re done for."

The receptionist barely managed a nod before Aron was off again, racing across the lobby towards the elevators. People stared, whispering to one another, but Aron didn’t have the luxury to explain. His feet barely touched the ground as he hurried to the lift, stabbing the button with impatient fingers.

Once inside the elevator, the silence pressed in, and Aron’s heart pounded in his chest. Each second felt like it stretched out, the elevator moving too slowly for his taste. When the doors slid open at last, he bolted out, rushing down the corridor toward Asana’s office.

His mind was already at war, imagining the worst—Esme’s muttering, her distant gaze, the way Helga’s voice had sounded over the phone. He couldn’t afford to lose time, not when every moment could mean the difference between pulling Esme back or losing her for good.

He reached office’s door, breathless but determined. His hand hovered for a split second before pushing it open.

Aron burst through Esme’s office door, the sound of the heavy wood slamming against the wall echoed like thunder in the quiet, dimly lit room. Papers scattered across the floor, some fluttering down as if they had been thrown in a frenzy, while others lay crumpled, abandoned. The blinds were drawn, casting long, eerie shadows on the walls, giving the room an almost oppressive atmosphere.

There, in the middle of the chaos, Esme sat hunched over her desk, her hair falling in loose, disheveled strands around her face. She looked fragile, lost in a world Aron couldn’t reach, her eyes glassy as they stared blankly ahead. Her lips moved, whispering words so faint Aron could barely hear them, but the rhythm was all too familiar to him. That muttering. That endless, mindless muttering.

His heart dropped at the sight of her.

"Esme!" Aron called out, his voice thick with desperation as he rushed to her side. But she didn’t react, didn’t even blink. She sat rigid, her body cold and stiff like she was frozen in place. Her lips continued to move, forming soundless phrases that meant nothing. Aron crouched down beside her, his hands trembling as he gently shook her by the shoulders.

"Esme! Look at me! Please!" His voice cracked, filled with a helplessness that he hadn’t felt in years.

But she was somewhere else—lost in that dark place she had retreated to once before. That place where her mind had slipped away, where nothing and no one could reach her.

Aron’s hands tightened on her shoulders, a surge of frustration and fear boiling up inside him. He leaned closer, his face inches from hers, trying to catch the words she was muttering, to find some meaning in them. But they were disjointed, fragments of sentences, whispers of something buried deep in her mind.

"Esme, you’re safe," he whispered, his voice softer now, pleading. "It’s me, Aron. I’m here. Talk to me, please."

But she gave no response, her lips still moving, her eyes unfocused, staring through him as if he wasn’t even there. Her skin was cold, too cold, and Aron could feel her body trembling slightly under his touch, like she was fighting some internal battle he couldn’t see.

His breath hitched as panic clawed at his chest. He’d seen this before—how Esme had slipped into herself after that night, how she had become a shell, unreachable for days, weeks even. The thought of losing her to that darkness again terrified him.

Without hesitation, Aron opened the wooden box, the lid creaking softly as he lifted it. Inside lay the syringe, filled with a viscous green liquid that shimmered ominously under the dim light. He had prepared for this moment, knowing the risk and the potential consequences, but his resolve was unwavering. Esme needed him now more than ever.

With steady hands, he raised the syringe and positioned it against Esme’s neck. His heart raced as he pressed the needle into her skin, the sharp prick a small price to pay for the hope of bringing her back. As he pushed down the plunger, the green substance surged into her bloodstream, a swift tide of hope against the dark backdrop of despair.

Immediately, Esme’s body went limp, her head lolling to one side as she sank back against the plush fabric of the sofa. The frantic muttering ceased, replaced by a profound silence that enveloped the room like a heavy blanket. Her eyes fluttered shut, the tension in her body finally easing away.

Helga, who had just stepped out to grab a bottle of water, returned to find a sight that sent a wave of panic through her. Esme lay motionless on the sofa, her face pale and still, while Aron sat on the ground nearby, a look of distress etched on his features. The room felt heavy with tension, the atmosphere thick with unspoken fear.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Helga rushed to Aron, wrapping her arms around him from behind. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric of his shirt.

"Aron," she murmured, her voice trembling as she slumped to the floor beside him, her heart racing