The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 298: [ Volume 1] Chaper - Pregnant mer.

Esme sighed deeply, letting the tension slip from her body as she leaned her head against the front of the bike. The cool metal hummed faintly beneath her fingers, grounding her in the present moment. It’s done. You made it.

The luxurious bags, now scuffed and marked from the day’s battle, swung against her sides as she got down from the bike. She stretched, wincing as her shoulders protested from the weight of hauling half a market.

As she straightened, her eyes instinctively moved to the upper window. Her breath caught when she saw Ray standing there, watching her. His frame was thin, still recovering, but his eyes were sharp, taking in every detail of her disheveled state.

Esme looked up and met Ray’s eyes, her lips curling into a warm smile. But instead of a smile in return, she was met with a sharp glare. Anger flickered in his dark eyes before he abruptly pulled the curtain shut. The sound of the fabric brushing against the rod echoed faintly in the quiet.

Esme froze, confusion washing over her. What just happened? She glanced around the yard, searching for any possible cause for his reaction, but saw nothing. Her gaze returned to the closed curtain. Did she do something to upset him? She tilted her head, replaying the last few moments in her mind but came up blank.

With a heavy sigh, she muttered under her breath, "Pregnant mers... harder to deal with than mergers and acquisitions." Her fingers brushed through her hair as she shook her head in exasperation. "Why are they angry? When are they angry? How are they angry? There’s no logic to it!"

Esme slammed her palm against her forehead in frustration before parking her bike and heading inside. The bags weighed heavily on her shoulders, but her thoughts weighed heavier on her mind.

Once inside, she rushed into the kitchen, her resolve firm. She didn’t need to understand why Ray was upset; she just needed to make things better. The kitchen was her battlefield, and tonight’s feast would be her truce offering.

The house was quiet, save for the faint ticking of a clock and the hum of the refrigerator. Esme had made sure of that. Weeks ago, she’d given all the servants leave, insisting on only a part-time caretaker who came to clean during the day. She hated the feeling of being watched, of people hovering and scrutinizing her every move. This house was supposed to be her sanctuary, not a gilded cage.

Her movements in the kitchen were swift and precise. First, she seasoned and seared the steaks to perfection, letting the rich aroma of sizzling meat fill the room. Then she moved on to the pork, infusing it with fragrant spices and a tangy glaze. The spicy and sour chicken came next, a dish Ray had once complimented as "better than any five-star restaurant."

Esme wiped her brow, the heat from the stove warming her already flushed face. She glanced at the soup bubbling gently on the back burner, the savory aroma of chicken mingling with fresh herbs and vegetables. Chicken soup was a must, especially for Ray’s health.

Dish after dish, Esme worked tirelessly, her focus unshaken despite the lingering confusion from Ray’s earlier outburst. By the time she finished, the kitchen counter was laden with plates of steaming food, a colorful spread that reflected her dedication and care.

She stepped back, exhaling deeply. If this doesn’t fix things, nothing will.

Esme didn’t arrange the dishes on the dining table. Instead, she carefully covered them and placed them on a sleek, stainless steel trolley. She glanced over her shoulder as she closed the kitchen door, a subtle but purposeful gesture that locked her world away from prying eyes.

With the door securely shut, she exhaled deeply and scanned the room. Her gaze sharpened, and soon her golden eyes glowed faintly, a luminous hue that pulsed as she searched for any sign of surveillance. Satisfied there was none, she strode toward the corner of the kitchen, where an old, inconspicuous cupboard stood beside the refrigerator.

The cupboard appeared unassuming—weathered wood, slightly crooked hinges, and an air of neglect. Esme knelt, her fingers grazing the edge, and with a small push, the cupboard slid aside with ease, revealing a hidden staircase leading down into shadowed depths. She guided the trolley into the opening, careful not to make a sound, and then gently slid the cupboard back into place. The facade was perfect; no one would suspect its secret.

Straightening her posture, Esme tied her hair up into a loose bun, her movements swift and precise. She opened the kitchen door, stepping out with the grace of someone who had completed a covert operation.

Once in her room, she shed the day’s exhaustion with a long, refreshing bath. The cool water washed away the tension in her muscles, leaving her feeling rejuvenated. She emerged in a casual outfit—faded jeans and a snug T-shirt that framed her figure effortlessly. Her hair, still damp, clung to her shoulders as she stood in front of a large painting on her wall.

Esme’s gaze lingered on the artwork, her fingers tracing its edges. With a soft tug, she removed the painting to reveal another hidden panel. Behind it was a secondary trolley identical to the one she’d just stashed in the kitchen. She smirked, appreciating the meticulous design of the house she now called home.

Her research had uncovered secrets hidden within its walls—passageways, concealed doors, and advanced technologies that defied logic. This wasn’t just a house; it was a fortress, built with a level of foresight that bordered on paranoia.

The secret paths weren’t merely escape routes; they led to the heart of the house—a self-sustaining haven. Deep within, there was a concealed supermarket, fully stocked with non-perishable goods, medical supplies, and even advanced equipment. It was designed to sustain life for decades, untouched by external chaos. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Fifty to sixty years, she mused, recalling the preservation dates on some of the supplies. Whoever had built this place had planned for the long haul, ensuring it could withstand anything from natural disasters to apocalyptic scenarios.

Esme replaced the painting, her mind whirring with possibilities. This house, with all its secrets, was more than a safe haven. It was a chessboard, and she needed to learn every square before her opponents made their next move.