The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 265: [ Volume 1] Chaper - Fight.

When Ray returned home, the emptiness of the house greeted him. Only a few servants moved about, tending quietly to their duties, as if sensing his need for solitude. His brothers were out, and for once, he was relieved. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. He moved quickly, hurrying to his room and closing the door behind him with a soft click. Once alone, he leaned against the door, sinking slowly to the floor, holding his weight as if grounding himself. A bitter laugh slipped from his lips, tinged with pain. "At least," he muttered, "I didn’t fall this time."

He didn’t know why things had turned out like this. What had he done to deserve it? Why did he have to suffer so much? He had known that Esme had a lover; he’d always known. Yet, somewhere deep down, he’d hoped, foolishly, that perhaps she had begun to love him, that her gestures of care and kindness were more than just politeness. He thought he saw affection in her eyes, that maybe her heart was changing. But all of it was a mirage, an illusion. And now, faced with the cold truth, he felt his heart splinter. His shoulders shook as he cried, a deep, aching sob that he kept muffled, unwilling to let anyone hear.

Time slipped away in his grief, and when he finally lifted his head, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. After a long, shaky exhale, he steadied himself, clearing his mind. He loved Esme, but he wasn’t someone who would completely sacrifice his self-respect for love. He’d already compromised so much of himself. But if Esme saw him as nothing more than a convenient substitute, then he had to let go. There was no dignity left in holding on.

Rising to his feet, he glanced down at his belly, his hand coming to rest gently on the barely noticeable curve. Four months along, and the reality of it all was beginning to sink in. He traced the small bump, whispering softly, "It’s okay. Papa’s here for you. You don’t need a mother." His voice was firm, determined, a promise he would keep no matter what.

With that, he took a long, calming bath, washing away the evidence of his pain, and emerged renewed, if not wholly at peace. That night, Esme didn’t come home, and in the silence, he steeled his heart.

The next day, when Esme did return, she moved through the house as if nothing had changed, carrying on with her usual routine. She slipped into the bathroom, soaking in a bath, oblivious to the shift that had taken place in Ray. But this time, he was waiting for her.

He sat in the hall, his face cold and unreadable, all the warmth and shimmer gone from his eyes. When she finally emerged, refreshed and unaware, Ray’s gaze tracked her steps as she entered the hall. He spoke her name, each syllable sharp and deliberate. "Ms. Valhale."

Esme froze mid-step, the name hitting her like a slap. Ray had never called her that, not since the first time they met. She’d always been Esme, or Rose, soft terms of affection. But the icy formality in his voice was unmistakable. Her heart skipped, and she knew, in that single, stony address, that something between them had changed forever.

Esme stood there, her confusion deepening as Ray’s tone shifted from warm to icy. Yesterday, he had seemed almost reluctant, but now, as he threw the file across the table, his intent was clear. The file landed with a soft thud, and she stared at it, her hands hesitating before reaching out. Her fingers trembled as she opened it, and the word glaring back at her was nothing short of a battlefield.

Divorce.

The papers slipped from her grasp, scattering onto the floor as her wide eyes fixed on him, stunned. "Ray?" she whispered, her voice unsteady, searching his expression for some sign that this was all a cruel joke. But Ray looked back, his face taut, his lips pressed tightly as he finally lowered his gaze.

"You remember, don’t you?" His voice was firm, almost devoid of emotion, as if rehearsed a hundred times over. "This was a contract marriage. I wanted a child, and you... well, you wanted to stay here. Now, I have the child I wanted, and there’s no longer a need for you here." His words landed like blows, each one more brutal than the last.

Esme felt the blood drain from her face. Her heart raced as disbelief turned to defiance. She met his cold gaze with fire in her eyes, refusing to be cast aside so easily. "What the hell do you mean, leave? I’ve done so much for you, Ray! Do you really think this was all just about some contract?"

But Ray’s face remained impassive, his tone as detached as ever. "Miss Valhale," he continued, his words cutting through the air like shards of ice. "It seems you’re under the impression that any of this was personal. For me, this marriage was nothing more than a means to an end—a way to have a child. You had your time, your power. If you couldn’t bring down the Valhalla group completely, that’s your shortcoming, not mine."

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded her. "And now... it’s been half a year. That’s more than enough time. So please, pack your things and leave."

Esme’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed in a vice. The man she’d thought she understood, the man she’d allowed herself to care for, had slipped behind a mask of coldness she barely recognized. But his words had ignited something fierce within her—a raw, unyielding refusal to be dismissed like a shadow.

Ray’s eyes widened at her words, caught off-guard by the defiance blazing in Esme’s eyes as she corrected herself, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, I’m sorry... Mr. Aron, but let me remind you that I am the child’s mother." Her voice was unwavering, fierce, and as she spoke, she leaned forward across the table, her gaze hard and unyielding.