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The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 351: [ Volume 1] Chaper - Aron past.
With her influence and her husbands’s steadfast support, Esme and her family had become the majority shareholders in the company. Removing them would require a battle no one was ready to fight. The other shareholders? Minor players, barely a nuisance.
Her attention also turned toward the Valhale Group, her aunt’s pride and joy. Esme was ruthless and unrelenting in her pursuit to "clean house." If something was rotten, she believed it should be uprooted completely. Half-measures weren’t in her nature.
Diana, though good at business yet, had no strength to oppose Esme. Her aunt and the remnants of her family were swept aside with ease. Esme’s vision of a spotless future didn’t leave room for sentiments or second chances.
And then there was Katrina. Suspended indefinitely. Her disappearance was shrouded in mystery, and no one seemed to know—or care—where she had gone. Katrina’s mother hadn’t fared much better. With charges piling up against her—murder, corruption, and countless abuses of power—her fall from grace was swift and irreversible.
As Esme moved forward with her plans, time was ticking. Ray’s due date drew nearer, and Esme’s urgency grew. She couldn’t afford any loose ends, any threats that could jeopardize the future she envisioned.
.
.
.
Esme sat in her office, her fingers flying over the keyboard like she was hacking into the Pentagon. Across from her, Aaron lounged in the chair, but his usual smug attitude had evaporated, replaced with a look so pitiful it could have been bottled and sold as "Gloom."
Pausing mid-typing, Esme arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "What’s with the face? You look like you just licked a hundred lemons. Sour doesn’t suit you."
Aaron glared, his patience visibly thinning. "Can you, for once, talk like a normal human being? Just once?"
Esme smirked, leaning back in her chair as though she had all the time in the world. "Oh, I can talk like a human. I just choose not to because it’s so boring." Her voice dripped with exaggerated sweetness.
Aaron groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You know, if you keep this up, you’re begging for me to shut you up."
"Promises, promises," Esme quipped, spinning her chair dramatically. "But seriously, what’s your problem? Did your mirror tell you you’re not the prettiest today?"
Aaron hesitated, his jaw tightening before he finally muttered, "I met him."
Esme’s fingers froze on the keyboard for a beat before continuing their rhythmic tapping. Her voice turned cool, almost too casual. "Oh? And how’s he doing?"
Aaron’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Living the dream, apparently."
Esme tilted her head, her lips curling into a wry smile. "Hmm, interesting. Let me know how that well they are".
---
Flashback:
A few days earlier, Katrina sat in her massive living room, staring into the void like it owed her money. How had her life flipped upside down so fast? One day, she was an officer riding on her mother’s coattails; the next, she was suspended, humiliated, and practically invisible. Her mother—once untouchable—was now in jail, charged with enough crimes to fill an encyclopedia.
She clenched her jaw. "This has to be some kind of nightmare," she muttered.
Before she could spiral any further, the front door slammed open with a dramatic bang. In walked Aaron, his hands in his pockets and a cocky grin plastered across his face. His shoes clicked against the marble floor as he took in the mansion like he was touring a museum.
"Knock, knock," Aaron called out, his voice oozing with sarcasm. "Anybody home? Oh wait, I don’t care. I already let myself in."
Katrina shot up, her face a mix of anger and confusion. "You! What the hell are you doing here?"
Aaron turned to her, his grin sharpening into something more dangerous. "Me? Oh, just admiring the décor. Nice place you’ve got. Shame about the owners, though." His tone was light, but his eyes were ice-cold.
"Get out!" Katrina snapped, her voice cracking under the weight of her rage.
Aaron chuckled, a low, mocking sound that made her skin crawl. "Oh, sweetheart, if this is your house, then I can come and go as I please. Isn’t that how your family operates?"
Before Katrina could respond, a deep voice cut through the tension. "What’s going on here?"
Her father appeared, his shirt loose and slightly rumpled, but his presence still commanding. His eyes fell on Aaron, and he froze for a split second—a moment Katrina didn’t miss.
Aaron’s gaze slid to the older man, and his smirk widened. It wasn’t a friendly expression.
Katrina blinked, her mind racing. Why did Aaron look... familiar? And then it hit her like a truck.
The sharp features, the piercing eyes—they weren’t just similar. They were practically identical.
Her stomach dropped. "Wait... no way." Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Aaron’s smirk deepened as he caught the realization flickering across her face. "Oh, don’t stop now," he drawled. "You’re this close to figuring it out. Go ahead—say it."
The room seemed to shrink as Katrina’s brain finally put the pieces together. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮
Aaron stepped forward with a smirk that could cut glass. "Well, hello, lovely sister," he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery.
Katrina froze, her wide eyes darting to her father. The man, on the other hand, looked like he’d seen a ghost. He pointed a shaky finger at Aaron, stammering, "Y-you? You?"
Aaron cocked his head, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "Yes, me. Your long-lost son. You know, the one you ditched in a storm like yesterday’s trash?"
The man’s face went slack, his mind clearly struggling to catch up. Katrina, still trying to process, sputtered, "Brother? My brother?" Her voice was as shrill as a tea kettle.
Aaron gave her a pitying look. "Oh, sweetie, yes. Surprise! I’m about a year older than you. Daddy dearest and Mommy not-so-dearest decided they’d had enough of me before you came along. Lucky you, huh?"
Katrina’s jaw dropped, her gaze snapping to her father. "Is this true?"
The man opened and closed his mouth like a fish, clearly scrambling for an explanation. Then, as if on cue, he dropped into the performance of a lifetime, clutching his chest dramatically. "My boy! My son! I... I never meant—"







