The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 279: [ Volume 1] Chaper - New to me

The air was thick, not with excitement, but with the sharp edge of expectation. Everyone was here for one reason: to witness the collapse of a once-mighty union.

Whispers flitted across the room like restless moths. "This is going to be spectacular," someone murmured, while others smirked behind their glasses, eager to watch the drama unfold. It was more than just morbid curiosity—this was entertainment for the elite. The fall of Esme’s legacy promised a show no one wanted to miss.

But it wasn’t just strangers who lingered with bated breath. Among the crowd were former loyalists of Esme, the ones who had once championed her brilliance. They had mourned her absence, only to be intrigued when Rose emerged—a woman whose every move echoed Esme’s grace and cunning. Rose had taken the stage with a presence so eerily familiar that it raised more questions than answers.

Tonight, the stakes were high. Would Rose rise to the occasion, standing tall against the storm? Or would she crumble, confirming the whispers of her doubters? For many in this room, it didn’t matter. They weren’t here to choose sides—they were here to seize opportunities. In this world, every misstep was a foothold for someone else’s ascent.

And so they watched, their glittering eyes fixed on the unfolding drama, ready to feast on the spectacle of another’s downfall.

The murmur of the crowd stilled as Esme entered the Grand Hall. Draped in a stunning dark blue gown that flowed behind her like a midnight river, she was a vision that commanded attention. Her gown, with its intricate detailing and long, ethereal attachments, shimmered under the golden glow of the chandeliers.

Her hair was swept up in an elegant updo, adorned with glimmering pins that caught the light with every step. For a moment, she looked like something otherworldly—an angel descending from the heavens.

The room froze. Those who knew Esme were left stunned. She was always known for her sharp suits, her practical elegance that exuded authority. But now, seeing her in this regal gown, she seemed transformed—both familiar and entirely new. Whispers rippled through the crowd, some admiring, others speculating.

Esme moved gracefully, descending the small steps that led to the center of the hall. With calm precision, she picked up a microphone, her posture poised yet commanding.

"Good evening, everyone," she began, her voice ringing clear and steady. "Thank you all for coming."

Her words seemed to break the spell, and the reporters surged forward like a wave, microphones and cameras thrust in her direction.

"Ms. Rose! Are the rumors true?"

"Ms. Rose, did you harm the eldest brother?"

"Ms. Rose, can you confirm—"

The cacophony of voices grew louder as the questions came fast and relentless, their urgency filling the hall.

Esme raised a single hand, her expression calm yet firm. "Enough," she said, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

The room fell silent once more, the authority in her tone impossible to ignore. Her eyes scanned the crowd, her presence alone demanding respect.

"I will answer all of your questions," she continued, her voice measured and resolute. "But only one at a time."

The reporters wasted no time as the questions began flying across the room.

"Ms. Rose," one of them called out, his voice loud and accusatory. "We heard that you were the one who pushed your eldest husband, causing him to miscarry. Is that true?"

Esme tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing with a glint of mischief. "Miscarriage?" she repeated slowly, her lips curling into a playful smile. "Now, that’s a new one."

The reporters exchanged uneasy glances, but before they could regroup, Esme continued, her voice light yet pointed. "Tell me, is there a new assessment I missed out on? I must admit, I wasn’t aware husbands could miscarry. Fascinating."

Her sarcastic response sent a ripple of confusion through the room. The reporter, caught off guard, stumbled for a moment before regaining his footing. "Ms. Rose, are you denying it then? Are you saying it’s not true?"

Esme put on an exaggerated expression of thoughtfulness, tapping her chin with her perfectly manicured finger. "Denying it?" she mused, before smirking. "Well, I pushed my husband, huh? Interesting theory." She leaned forward slightly, her tone growing sharper. "Don’t you think maybe you’re giving me too much credit here? After all, who am I to outshine such a ’beloved figure’ as my husband?"

Her words hung in the air, dripping with sarcasm, leaving the reporters visibly puzzled. Another reporter seized the opportunity, cutting in hurriedly.

"So, Ms. Rose," he began, "are you claiming that you didn’t push your eldest husband? Our sources indicate that you two were fighting before he was hospitalized."

Esme let out a soft, almost incredulous laugh, shaking her head. "Hospitalized?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. Her voice dropped to a mock-serious tone. "Oh my, the media must be far more powerful than I ever imagined! Here I was, blissfully unaware that my husband is in the hospital. Thank you for enlightening me!"

The sarcasm in her words was not lost on the crowd. Reporters glanced at one another, unsure whether to press further. But another voice cut through the tension.

"Ms. Rose," a third reporter asked, his tone sharper than the others, "isn’t it true that all your wealth comes from your husbands? And now you’ve gone and hurt one of them. What do you say to that?"

Esme’s playful demeanor shifted as she stood straighter, her expression growing serious. Her voice, calm and unwavering, carried a weight that silenced the room. "My dear reporters," she began, her gaze sweeping across the crowd, "firstly, this is the first time I’m hearing about my husband being hurt. Thank you for informing me of such groundbreaking news."

Her tone hardened, and her words carried a subtle challenge. "Secondly, yes, my power stems from my husbands, but that does not make me powerless. Let’s not confuse generosity with dependency." She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing.