The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 382: [ Volume 1] Chaper - Stealing isn’t exactly a virtue

Chapter 382: [ Volume 1] Chaper 382- Stealing isn’t exactly a virtue

Her breath hitched. Her body tensed.

Her gaze darted to the far side of the room, where a presence had silently emerged—a man, draped in the kind of tailored suit that whispered of power and control. He leaned against the wall with effortless ease, arms crossed, a faint, knowing smile on his lips.

Esme’s father.

The door clicked shut behind Esme, sealing her departure.

The woman’s heart pounded as she turned to him. "What do you mean we didn’t stop her?" she demanded, her voice trembling with barely contained frustration. "How could you just let her walk into that death trap again?"

The man sighed, tilting his head slightly, as if contemplating the weight of her words. Then, in a voice too calm for the gravity of the situation, he answered,

"She’s our daughter, Gina. You know how she is." His lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes held something deeper. "That stubbornness of hers... she didn’t get it from nowhere."

Gina clenched her fists. "That doesn’t mean we let her throw herself into danger!"

His smile faded, replaced by something heavier. "And what would you have me do?" he asked quietly. "Lock her away? Chain her to this house?" He shook his head. "You and I both know she would burn the world down before she let anyone decide her fate."

Gina’s hands clenched at her sides, her breath uneven. "That stubbornness will get her killed," she spat, eyes burning as she turned to face her husband.

Esme’s father, ever composed, let out a quiet chuckle. "And you think chaining her here would keep her safe?" He pushed off the wall, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. "You know better than that, Gina."

She shook her head, frustration evident in every fiber of her being. "We barely got her back. She’s still weak, she doesn’t even know who’s after her, and yet—" Gina exhaled sharply, raking a hand through her hair. "And yet, you just let her walk away?"

He stepped closer

As he lowered his hand, his fingers found Gina’s, intertwining them in a firm yet gentle grip. His touch was steady, grounding her in a moment where uncertainty loomed like a storm.

Then, slowly, Gina’s face began to change. The illusion peeled away like layers of mist dissolving in the morning sun. Her features softened, shifting back to their true form—a face strikingly similar to Esme’s. The resemblance was undeniable, nearly 80%, yet time had left its subtle traces. She looked only slightly older, as if frozen in her thirties, untouched by the years that should have weighed heavier.

She lifted her gaze to her husband, pain flickering behind her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but raw, edged with the weight of her fears.

"You know... if she gets out of here, they will find her."

The words hung between them, heavy, unshakable.

He exhaled softly, then lowered his head, resting his forehead gently against hers. The warmth of their shared breath filled the space between them, a silent exchange of emotions neither could fully voice. His hand cupped the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair as if to reassure her, to hold her together.

"Gina," he murmured, his voice deep with quiet conviction. "She has children to protect. There are people waiting for her." His fingers tightened slightly around hers, a silent plea for her to understand. "She needs to go."

Gina’s lips trembled, her grip on his hand tightening. She knew he was right.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

.

.

.

Esme stepped out of the room, her pulse thrumming like a drumbeat in her ears. The conversation she had just left behind weighed heavily on her, but there was no time to dwell on it. She needed to move. Now.

Descending the stairs, she realized—too late—that there was no elevator.

Of course. Just my luck.

At least it was only a two-story building. She took the stairs quickly, feet moving on instinct, but halfway down, something caught her attention.

Her feet.

Bare.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath.

How had she been so careless? Not only had she stormed out without shoes, but she hadn’t even grabbed a change of clothes. She looked down at herself—slightly rumpled, mismatched, like someone who had just broken out of a hospital in the middle of a breakdown.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. Going back wasn’t an option. Whatever her parents were hiding, she wouldn’t find the truth by turning around now.

As she reached the ground floor, her sharp eyes darted around, scanning for a solution. That was when she spotted it—a clothesline strung across the side of the veranda, swaying gently in the breeze.

Among the hanging clothes, a simple shirt and a pair of loose pants stood out.

They could fit me.

She hesitated for only a moment. Then, after a quick glance around, she made her move. She took her time, waiting, watching, making sure no one was looking. Thirty agonizing minutes later, she slipped into her new disguise.

Now, for the shoes.

She hurried outside, her gaze sweeping the area. That was when she saw them—a pair of slippers, trendy cross-style ones, neatly placed near the veranda.

Her lips twitched. Bingo.

Then she saw the owner.

A woman stood by the pond, struggling to fish out a ball. Nearby, a little boy bounced on his feet, growing more impatient by the second.

"Mother, hurry! Fast, fast!"

"Alright, alright! I’m getting it!" the woman huffed, reaching further into the water.

Esme licked her lips, her eyes flicking between the woman and the slippers.

Stealing isn’t exactly a virtue... but desperate times, right?

Besides, the owner lived nearby. She wasn’t taking them far.

She exhaled slowly, then, with the stealth of someone who had done this before, she moved. A few careful steps, a glance left and right—

Then she grabbed them.

Heart pounding, she turned on her heel and bolted before anyone could notice.