The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 352: [ Volume 1] Chaper - Relation between us

Aaron held up a hand. "Whoa, pump the brakes there, Shakespeare. I’m not here for your bad acting. You wanna call me ’son’? You’d better find someone else to star in that sob story of yours."

The man froze mid-grovel, his expression twitching between rage and forced remorse. He tried again, his voice thick with faux sincerity. "You don’t understand... It wasn’t me! The servants—they locked you in the basement. I had no idea!"

Aaron’s brow shot up, and he let out a low, sarcastic laugh. "Oh, really? The servants? So, what? They just took a vote and decided I needed to be exiled? That’s your story? Cute."

The man’s smile faltered, but he quickly plastered it back on, his tone now syrupy sweet. "I’ve missed you every day, my boy. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep—"

Aaron cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Uh-huh. Sure. Because you look great for someone who’s supposedly been suffering all these years. Honestly, you’ve got fewer wrinkles than the last time I saw you. Self-care routine or selective memory?"

The man flinched, but he wasn’t giving up that easily. "Son, I swear—"

"Stop." Aaron’s tone turned ice cold, his smirk dropping. "We both know you’re not sorry. You’re just doing the math and realizing I might actually be worth something now." He gestured to his tailored outfit and impeccable shoes. "So, save the tears. They’re wasted on me."

The man froze, his fake warmth dissolving into stunned silence. Katrina, still standing off to the side, whispered, "What... what is happening?"

Aaron turned to her with a casual shrug. "Oh, nothing much. Just your dear old dad realizing his abandoned son came back, not for a reunion, but for a reckoning."

Aaron stood tall, his expression one of utter amusement as the old man fumbled for words, his voice shaking with feigned innocence. "What do you mean by reckoning

my child? Why are you talking like that?" The man’s eyes welled up, tears threatening to fall, but Aaron barely batted an eyelash.

Aaron’s lips curled into a sly smile, his gaze sharpening. The old man’s melodramatic display triggered a memory. He crossed his arms, tapping his chin thoughtfully before it hit him. Esme.

Oh, of course. The same melodrama, the same self-pitying act. Esme had a way of acting like the world was against her when she was the one stirring the pot. If she hadn’t been his boss, Aaron would’ve loved nothing more than to send her a one-way ticket to a world of regret. But, alas, power was a tricky thing.

With a sigh, he finally spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What? I said reckoning. I didn’t come here to listen to your sad little performance. I came to make you pay for your sins."

The man’s face contorted, rage building. He couldn’t believe it—this son, the one he had so carelessly abandoned, was standing in front of him. All these years, he had wished Aaron dead, and now here he was, the very bastard he had hoped would disappear.

But the truth? The truth was, it wasn’t just Aaron’s mother who didn’t want him. Oh no. His father, Omar, hadn’t cared a bit. In fact, Aaron’s sickness had been a convenient excuse to throw him away like yesterday’s trash. The moment Aaron was born, sickly and weak, Omar had seen the perfect opportunity to rid himself of a burden. Why keep a son around when a healthy daughter would be so much more useful?

As the tension built, Katrina’s voice cut through the air like a knife. "Shut up. Do you think we’re buying this? Esme sent you, didn’t she? This is her doing, right?" Her accusation hung in the air, but Aaron’s gaze barely flickered toward her.

The old man, Omar, couldn’t help but laugh, a bitter chuckle that matched the wicked gleam in his eyes. "Don’t give her too much credit. You really think Esme’s the mastermind here?" His shoulders shrugged as if dismissing the entire idea with a wave of his hand.

Katrina froze, her face falling. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, her voice now uncertain.

Aaron glanced at her, giving her the kind of look one would give a child who just asked the dumbest question.

"Really? This is the daughter you’ve been coddling all your life?" He laughed, a low, mocking sound. "She doesn’t even have the faintest clue, does she?"

Katrina’s face flushed with fury, but Aaron was relentless. He turned his gaze back to her father, whose face was now twisted with rage at the insults directed at his precious daughter.

"You’re not even worth the trouble," Aaron said, raising an eyebrow. "This is your legacy, huh? A daughter who can’t even think for herself?" He chuckled darkly. "Good job, pops. Keep raising your golden child."

The air crackled with tension as Omar’s blood boiled at the insult to his precious Katrina. "You dare—?" His voice broke off, but Aaron was done playing nice. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

"Oh, I dare. Believe me, I dare," Aaron said, his voice low and cutting. "You’ve spent your life making the most pathetic choices, and now it’s time for a little payback."

Aron stood before his father, a faint pang of emotion tugging at his chest. It was a strange, almost unnatural feeling. Of course, which child does not love their father? If someone were to ask him—after all these years—whether he missed his father, could he honestly say no? How could he, when, from the moment he opened his eyes, the first face he saw was that of his father? A child’s heart could not forget that bond, that sense of security, no matter the years or the distance.

And yet, all those years of waiting had done nothing but breed excuses. Aron had imagined countless scenarios—perhaps his father would apologize, perhaps he was forced into his decisions, perhaps he would show some sign of remorse.

And sometimes, Aron thought he could forgive him, could give him the benefit of the doubt. But now, seeing his father’s face again, all that hope crumbled.