The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 333: [ Volume 1] Chaper - Pay more.

One by one, they opened their phones, and gasps rippled through the room like a shockwave. Their faces paled, jaws slackening as their eyes scanned the screens. Each notification contained a detailed dossier—meticulous, damning, and unforgiving. From grand schemes like tech fraud and embezzlement to the smallest indiscretions, like cheating on high school exams or lying about credentials, it was all there.

"How..." someone whispered, their voice barely audible.

Aaron’s voice crackled to life again, rich with wicked satisfaction. "Impressive, isn’t it? I really did my homework. Oh, don’t look so surprised—I’m a thorough man. Every little secret, every buried skeleton, every lie you’ve ever whispered in the dark... I know it all."One of the younger relatives dropped her phone as if it burned her, her face a mask of terror. "This... this can’t be real," she stammered.

Aaron chuckled, low and cold. "Oh, it’s real. But don’t worry—I’m not here to judge. Not yet, anyway. Consider this... Act One."

The television screen flickered again, displaying a swirling mass of documents, photos, and videos. The air seemed to grow colder, heavier, as though the room itself was alive with dread.

"Now," Aaron continued, his tone darkening, "before you start pointing fingers at dear old Uncle here, ask yourselves... who’s really safe when the truth comes out?" His laughter echoed, hollow and chilling, as though he were relishing their fear.

The old man stood frozen, his lips trembling but no words escaping. The relatives, once united in confusion, now eyed each other with suspicion, their secrets laid bare for all to see.

Aaron’s voice softened to a whisper, intimate yet menacing. "Tick-tock, my friends. The clock’s running, and this little game is only just beginning."

The old man’s voice erupted, his shout reverberating in the tense air. "What the hell do you want? Stop this madness!" His face was flushed, a mix of hysteria and anger contorting his usually composed features.

Miles away, seated in a dimly lit room surrounded by monitors, Aaron leaned back in his chair. The glow of the screens painted his face in shifting hues of blue and green. He watched the old man’s desperate outburst with a calm that bordered on amusement. A sly smile tugged at his lips as he leaned toward the microphone.

"What would I want?" Aron’s voice echoed through the television speakers, low and deliberate. "Don’t you already know?"

The room where the old man stood grew eerily silent. The ladies glanced at each other, their confusion mounting. The old man turned to the flickering television, his fists clenched. His breaths were shallow, his composure cracking under the weight of Aaron’s taunts.

"What do you mean by that?" the old man spat, his tone brimming with frustration. "What do you want from me?"

Aron’s chuckle filtered through the speakers, soft and mocking. "What do I mean?" he mused. "Oh, nothing, of course. Absolutely nothing."

The words were laced with a venomous undertone, each syllable wrapping tighter around the old man’s unraveling nerves. His face twisted further in anger, the veins in his neck straining. The television screen pulsed with static for a moment before stabilizing, Aron’s voice now tinged with something darker—something calculated.

"Tell me," Aron continued, his voice silkier now, "why are you so angry? Is it because you really don’t know... or because you’re afraid I do?"

The old man froze, the question sinking into the room like a stone into still water. The relatives, still unsure of what to believe, could only watch in stunned silence as the tension between the unseen tormentor and their revered elder thickened like smoke.

Aron’s smile widened. "Go on," he urged, his voice dripping with malice. "Tell me. What would I want from you?"

But the old man could only stare at the screens, his confusion giving way to a cold, creeping realization. The faint smirk on Aron’s unseen face grew sharper, a predator toying with its prey.

And for the first time, the old man hesitated.

Aaron leaned back in his chair, a smug smile playing on his lips as his eyes flicked between the screen and the untouched coffee before him. The quiet tension in the room was palpable, a stark contrast to the chaos brewing elsewhere.

A woman entered the room, her movements precise and deliberate. She placed a steaming cup of coffee on the table without a word, offering a slight nod before bowing her head and turning to leave. Aaron’s gaze followed her for a moment, then shifted back to the cup. He picked up the spoon, stirring the liquid slowly, each clink of metal against porcelain cutting through the silence.

Meanwhile, in the crumbling old mansion, an eerie stillness gripped the room. All eyes were fixed on the teapot, its steam curling lazily upward, as if mocking the tension that suffused the air. The monitor, previously buzzing with the voice of authority, had gone ominously silent. The old man’s gnarled fingers gripped the edge of his chair, his expression a mix of anger and unease.

Back in the room, Aaron finally broke the silence, his voice carrying a lazy, almost taunting edge. "So, old man," he drawled, swirling his spoon in the coffee, "what do you think will happen if I send this... evidence to your granddaughter-in-law? Or maybe the police? Who do you think would pay me more?"

The words hit like a crack of thunder. The old man’s face twisted in fury as he shot to his feet. "Enough of your riddles!" he barked, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage. "Just say it already!"

Aaron smirked, unperturbed by the outburst. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table as he regarded the screen. "Oh, but where’s the fun in that?"

The old man was not scared of death—no, fear wasn’t what churned in his chest. It was anger, pure and consuming. He had been so close, mere steps away from the culmination of his carefully laid plans. How could someone—this stranger—come crashing into his world and unravel everything?