The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 288: [ Volume 1] Chaper - Videos

Kai’s gaze remained fixed on the paused video, his sharp eyes flickering with an almost electric realization. His finger jabbed at the screen, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

"Wait a minute. Did you see that?"

Esme leaned forward, her attention snapping back to the laptop. Her fingers quickly worked the trackpad, zooming in on the masked figure, her brows knitting in frustration. The grainy footage didn’t offer much—the hat and mask obscured the person’s face entirely.

"Not their face," Kai clarified, his voice laced with urgency. "Look at their wrist. The watch."

Esme frowned, adjusting the zoom until the wrist came into clearer view. A sleek, impossibly thin bracelet-like watch gleamed faintly under the dim security light in the parking lot. It seemed ordinary at first glance, but something about it caught Kai’s eye.

"Watch?" she murmured, her tone low but intrigued. She turned her gaze to Kai, who now wore an expression of deep thought, his brows furrowed as if sifting through a mental catalog of memories.

"I’ve seen that watch before," Kai said slowly, pacing the room as he rubbed his chin. "Just give me a second..." He snapped his fingers, his eyes lighting up as a memory clicked into place. "It’s The Grand."

"The Grand?" Esme repeated, spinning her chair to face him. "Isn’t that the watch company that got shut down over a decade ago?"

Jay, who had been leaning against the desk, straightened up at the mention. "Yeah, they went under because of some tax scandal or something, didn’t they? But their watches were famous back then. Thin, sleek, and way ahead of their time."

Kai nodded vigorously, his excitement growing. "Exactly. They were known for their craftsmanship. Their designs were so intricate that even after the company was shut down, no one’s been able to replicate them. Look," he said, gesturing at the laptop screen. "You can see it clearly on the band—the small ’S’ symbol. That was their signature."

Jay squinted at the screen. "A tiny ’S’? That doesn’t mean much. Anyone could’ve copied it. There are tons of fakes out there."

Kai’s expression turned firm, his voice resolute. "Not this one. The Grand watches were practically works of art. Even their counterfeits never got this level of detail right. And look closely at the band." He pointed to a subtle shimmer on the screen. "It’s gold at one angle, but turn it just slightly, and it shifts to silver. That’s their dual-tone illusion. It’s almost impossible to replicate. Manufacturing it required precision, expensive materials, and a unique technique that no one has bothered to revive. It’s too costly."

Esme’s gaze sharpened, the wheels in her mind spinning. She leaned closer, her fingers lightly tracing the watch’s outline on the screen. "So, what you’re saying is, this isn’t just a watch—it’s a clue."

"Exactly," Kai confirmed, his voice tinged with excitement. "Whoever this person is, they’re either wearing an original Grand or have access to someone who owns one. And since the company shut down over a decade ago, there are only a limited number of these watches in existence."

Esme’s lips pressed into a thin line as she straightened in her chair, her thoughts swirling. "Which means we might be able to trace it back to the owner."

Jay’s brows furrowed as he considered this. "But what if it’s secondhand? Or stolen? That could lead us down a rabbit hole."

Kai shook his head, his conviction unwavering. "Not likely. This isn’t the kind of watch that shows up in pawn shops or on black-market sites. It’s a collector’s item—a status symbol. Whoever has it either bought it directly from the company or acquired it through a very specific channel. If we dig, we’ll find a lead."

Esme’s gaze lingered on the screen, her expression unreadable. But the glint in her eyes betrayed her thoughts—she was already planning their next steps but suddenly she remember something.

Esme’s breath hitched as her gaze locked on the screen. Her trembling fingers hovered over the laptop’s trackpad as she replayed the video, her mind racing. The man’s movements, his playful energy—it all seemed hauntingly familiar, like the faint echo of a melody she hadn’t heard in years.

Her stomach churned as she zoomed in on his hand, capturing every detail, every flicker of motion. She replayed the video again and again, her pulse quickening with each repetition. Finally, she paused it and opened another folder on her laptop—a folder she had labeled "Memory". It was one she had painstakingly compiled over time, gathering fragments of a past she thought she had lost forever.

Clicking through, she opened a video from years ago. Her younger self appeared on the screen, a small girl with tear-streaked cheeks and red, puffy eyes. She sat on the floor, wailing uncontrollably, her sobs loud and desperate. It was the kind of cry only children could manage, raw and all-consuming.

A man’s voice cut through the air. "Oh my God, stop crying!" he called out, his tone exasperated but laced with affection.

The younger Esme cried harder, her small fists clenched as she refused to be consoled. The man groaned and ran a hand through his hair. Then, without warning, he began to dance.

"Hey, hey, look! Monkey, monkey!" he called out, clapping his hands and hopping around in an exaggerated mimicry of a monkey.

The younger Esme paused briefly, her sobs hitching, but the tears didn’t stop.

Undeterred, the man shifted tactics. He bent his knees, waddling side to side, flapping his arms like a duck. "Duck, duck, duck!" he quacked, his voice filled with playful urgency.

Esme’s younger self finally broke, a giggle bubbling through her tears. She clapped her small hands and laughed, her sorrow forgotten in the face of her father’s antics. The man smiled brightly and finished his performance with a flourish, making a heart symbol with his hands.

Esme’s current self sat frozen as the scene played out. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, her mind spinning as she tried to process what she was seeing.