The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 307: [ Volume 1] Chaper - Killer

Peeking over at the "giant bunny" sleeping beside her, she couldn’t help but marvel at how different Ryan looked. The usually cold, serious man who barely cracked a smile had transformed into someone unrecognizable last night. Who would believe me if I told them? she thought, watching him snore softly.

He’d been like the most devoted husband imaginable—letting her do whatever she wanted, even when he was completely drained of strength. She remembered the way he’d kept going, even when his eyes could barely stay open. And the way he had smiled faintly at her, reassuring her that he was fine, even though he was clearly ready to pass out.

Esme sighed, glancing at the window where sunlight poured in. Her gaze shifted to the alarm clock on the bedside table. 11:00 AM?! Her jaw dropped. She vividly recalled the clock showing 4:00 AM the last time she glanced at it, right before they finally called it a night—er, morning.

She groaned softly, flopping back onto the pillow, a mix of embarrassment and amusement dancing on her flushed face. "This man," she muttered, side-eyeing Ryan’s sleeping form. "A cold statue by day, a... overly cooperative bunny by night. What am I going to do with you?"

Ryan let out a soft mumble in his sleep, turning slightly towards her. Esme watched him for a moment and then covered her face again with both hands. "Ugh, how do I even look him in the eye after this?"

Esme’s sharp gaze lingered on Ryan’s sleeping face, his soft breaths escaping his parted lips. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to admire how serene he looked, as if the chaos of the previous night hadn’t happened. But her thoughts quickly shifted, and her eyes flicked to the clock. 11:00 AM. A wry smirk crossed her lips.

Sliding off the bed, she pulled on her bathrobe, the fabric barely brushing her thighs as she moved gracefully across the room. Clothes from the night before were scattered across the floor, but she paid them no mind, stepping over them like a queen in her domain. She exited, the click of her steps echoing through the eerily silent mansion.

Esme’s destination was clear—Ray’s room. Entering, she stopped at the sight before her. Ray lay motionless on the bed, his face pale and delicate under the faint light. The IV drip at his side gave him the appearance of a man caught between life and death. His body was swaddled in blankets, leaving only his face and a portion of his chest visible. It was almost pitiful. Almost.

Her eyes swept the room until they landed on the wardrobe. She opened it with an elegant flick of her wrist, revealing two half-liter bottles of petrol. A wicked grin spread across her face as if she had just stumbled upon a hidden treasure. "Perfect," she murmured to herself, pulling the bottles out with care.

Unscrewing the cap of the first bottle, she tossed it aside nonchalantly, the plastic clattering to the floor. The sharp, acrid scent of petrol filled the room as she began dousing the curtains. The fabric drank up the liquid greedily, its once-plain surface darkening as the fuel seeped in. She moved methodically, the practiced ease of her actions hinting at premeditation.

The second bottle followed, its contents splashed liberally over the bed and Ray’s still figure. She didn’t hesitate as the fuel soaked into the blankets, creating a pungent aroma that clung to the air. "A little extra touch," she mused, her eyes flicking to the kitten-shaped teddy bear perched on a nearby shelf. Its innocent presence made her chuckle softly.

With the room sufficiently prepped, Esme stepped back, admiring her work like an artist inspecting a finished painting. She stood at the doorway, a single matchbook in her hand. Without a moment’s hesitation, she struck a match and flung it into the room. The fire roared to life instantly, consuming the curtains, the bed, and everything else in its path.

On the other side , Ray’s grandfather sat in his study, reviewing the security footage. His face twisted in shock as the flames erupted on the screen. The room of Ray, reduced to an inferno in minutes. The other elders in the room gasped audibly, their eyes wide with disbelief.

The fire devoured the room with a ferocity that left no hope for rescue. Flames licked at the walls, greedy and unrelenting, turning everything they touched into ash. Smoke curled thick and black into the sky, blotting out the morning light and casting a shadow of despair over the mansion.

Jay and Kai stumbled through the gates, their breath caught in their throats as they saw the inferno. Jay’s voice cracked as he screamed, "Brother!" The sound ripped through the chaos, a desperate cry that pierced the roar of the flames.

They ran, pushing through the servants who were frantically tossing buckets of water onto the fire. It wasn’t enough. The flames were too strong, too fast. The heat was suffocating, an invisible force driving them back even as they tried to push forward.

Kai grabbed a servant’s arm, his grip trembling. "Where is he? Did he get out?"

The servant couldn’t meet his eyes, shaking his head helplessly. "He was inside... we couldn’t... we couldn’t reach him."

Jay’s knees buckled. His world spun as the words hit him. "No," he whispered, shaking his head violently, refusing to believe it. "No! Ray! Ray!" He lunged toward the flames, but Kai pulled him back, his grip like iron despite the shaking in his hands.

"You can’t! You’ll die!" Kai’s voice broke, thick with fear and frustration. His own tears blurred his vision, but he refused to let Jay throw himself into the fire.

The flames grew higher, a cruel wall separating them from their brother. The once-familiar room was unrecognizable now, consumed by the inferno. The air was thick with the smell of burning wood, fabric, and something far worse—a smell that made their stomachs twist in horror.

Jay fell to the ground, his fists pounding the dirt as sobs wracked his body. "Why? Why didn’t we get here sooner?" His voice was raw, choked with grief.