The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 155: [Volume 1] - - Not possible.

Esme stared at him, her heart giving a quiet tug at the sight. He must have been awake for hours, maybe days, his body finally giving into exhaustion.

She turned her eyes to the ceiling for a moment, drawing in a slow breath, but the action sent a sharp pain down her arm. Wincing, Esme instinctively raised her hand to inspect the discomfort, and there it was—the familiar tug of the IV needle, embedded in her skin, its purpose clear.

She knew this pain well; it had become as routine as breathing. How many times had she been hooked up to these machines, these sterile lines delivering life-saving fluids into her veins?

The beeping of the machines hummed in her ears as she turned her attention back to Ray. He didn’t stir.

Exhaustion had claimed him, and it made her heart ache a little more to see him like this—vulnerable, having pushed himself beyond his limits for her. She couldn’t even imagine how many nights he had stayed by her side.

Esme couldn’t bear it. Carefully, she sat up in bed, her muscles protesting with a deep ache that ran through her entire body, but she was determined.

She had been here before. She knew pain intimately, the way it gnawed at her but never fully broke her. With deliberate slowness, she reached over to her hand and carefully tugged at the IV.

It slid out with a sharp sting, and a few drops of blood trickled onto the floor, staining the pristine white tiles.

Her body screamed in protest as she stood, her knees almost buckling beneath her. It felt like electricity coursing through her limbs, every nerve set alight.

She clung to the bed, steadying herself, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts. But she kept going.

Ray remained asleep, oblivious to her struggle. Esme, with trembling hands, lifted him out of the chair, her arms barely strong enough to manage his weight.

But she persisted, guiding his limp form onto the bed. Once he was settled, she pulled the blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders.

His chest rose and fell in steady, peaceful breaths. He didn’t stir, not even a flicker of movement. He must have stayed awake for nights on end, she thought, guilt tightening in her chest.

As she stood over him, her eyes softened. She had been asleep for three days—three days where Ray must have been by her side, fighting against his own exhaustion to keep watch over her.

The thought of it made her heart ache, and yet, her mind was too preoccupied to linger on the sentiment.

Esme glanced around the room, searching for her phone, but it was nowhere to be found. Her eyes landed on Ray’s phone sitting on the bedside table.

She picked it up, swiping the screen to life, and saw the date: three days had passed since her last memory.

She closed the phone, setting it down with a quiet exhale, and made her way toward the bathroom.

Inside, Esme flicked on the tap, watching the water cascade over her bloodied hand. The cold sting hit her skin like a wave, but she barely reacted.

The pain was secondary now, almost an afterthought. She raised her eyes to the mirror, meeting her own reflection. Her face was pale, eyes shadowed from sleepless nights that hadn’t belonged to her.

Yet beneath the surface, a different kind of ache festered.

It wasn’t possible. She couldn’t have forgotten her parents’ faces, not the way she had, not with her memory.

Her mind didn’t work like that—it was a fortress of details, unshakable. And yet, those faces she thought she knew so well had slipped away from her, leaving only fragments behind.

How could that be?

As the water ran, the door to the room swung open, and in rushed jay and Helga.

They froze in their tracks, their faces going pale as they took in the sight before them—Ray on the bed, fast asleep, and the IV ripped from its stand, blood dripping from the tube.

"Esme!" Jay’s voice was sharp with alarm, his eyes darting around the room as he searched for her.

His panic was evident—he was ready to shout, to call for help—until his eyes landed on her emerging from the bathroom, her hand wrapped in a towel. She met their wide-eyed stares with a calm that seemed unsettlingly out of place.

"I’m fine," she said softly, her voice steady despite the chaos.

Helga rushed forward, her eyes filled with concern. "Esme, what are you doing? You should be resting—" 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

"I’ve rested enough." Esme’s voice held a quiet determination as she met Helga’s gaze. "I needed to move. I needed to think."

Hearing Esme’s voice sent a ripple of confusion through Helga, momentarily freezing her in place. She looked at Esme, whose expression was a mixture of resolve and urgency, and suddenly felt a jolt of uncertainty. Gone was the familiar warmth of camaraderie; in its place was the unyielding presence of a leader—a true Chief of Command.

Esme’s eyes, usually soft and inviting, now burned with a fierce determination that was almost palpable, making Helga’s leg tremble involuntarily.

Helga took a deep breath, attempting to steady herself as she stepped forward.

"Yes, President? How can I help you?" The professional tone she adopted was more instinct than choice, a reflex honed by years of working under Esme’s guidance.

Esme met her gaze head-on, the intensity of her resolve commanding respect.

"Find out everything about the Valhale family over the past twenty years," she instructed, her voice unwavering and firm, leaving no room for hesitation.

The gravity of the request hung in the air like a dense fog. Helga felt a surge of adrenaline as she processed the implications of such an investigation.

"Understood," Helga replied, a steely determination replacing her initial confusion. She turned on her heel, ready to dive into the depths of the Valhale legacy.

As she left the room, a sense of urgency fueled her steps, each stride echoing with purpose.