The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 385: [ Volume 1] Chaper - Missing time.

He didn’t know what to feel. Relief? Fear? Anger?

But what he did know was how much his brother had suffered.

They had all suffered—every single one of them had been drowning in pain after Esme’s disappearance. But his brother... he had endured something far worse.

Kai remembered it vividly. How his brother had just given birth, his body still weak, still healing, yet he had no choice but to bear the weight of everything—handling the company, handling the chaos Esme’s absence had left behind.

Kai still remembered the sight of him, wandering the house aimlessly, his eyes hollow, his steps mechanical.

And he knew—without a shadow of a doubt—that if not for the children, if not for the small hands that clung to him, grounding him, keeping him—his brother would have followed Esme into the dark.

Kai swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe past the lump in his throat.

This time... this time, he prayed that hope would not betray them again.

From that day on, it wasn’t just the organization searching for Esme—Ray and his brothers threw themselves into the hunt as well. Every lead, every whisper, every faint clue that hinted at her existence was pursued relentlessly. But it was as if she had vanished into thin air, like dust scattered by the wind.

No trace of her. No news. Nothing.

Yet they refused to give up.

While searching for Esme, they had another task at hand—the hidden place. The lock that had remained sealed for years held secrets they could no longer afford to ignore. If there was something inside that could aid them, they needed to know. If it could serve as another escape route, they needed to open it.

Time was slipping through their fingers, and the more they searched, the more urgent everything became.

Esme was out there somewhere. And they would find her—no matter what it took.

Something had changed.

At first, Ray and his brothers believed the organization was merely retreating, biding their time in the shadows. But then, their people started disappearing.

Not discreetly, not with the precision of an escape plan—no, they were vanishing like ghosts swallowed by the night.

One day, two operatives trailing them were gone without a trace. The next, another. And then another.

At first, it seemed random. But then, the bodies started appearing. Car crashes. Unexplained falls. Fires. Every single case wrapped up neatly, ruled an accident. A coincidence.

Except it wasn’t.

There was a pattern.

Every single one of the victims had been connected to them in some way. Employees. Servants. Business associates. People who had once moved freely in their world, now reduced to names in obituaries.

No one was claiming responsibility. No warnings, no taunts, no cryptic messages. Just bodies piling up in silence.

And that was the most terrifying part.

Whoever was behind this wasn’t making a statement.

They were cleaning up.

—

Now, standing before the towering gates of Aron Mansion, Esme pulled the hood of her deep purple sweatshirt lower, shadows curling around the sharp edge of her smirk.

She had been gone for three years, and yet, nothing about this place had changed.

The grand estate stood as imposing as ever, the sheer number of guards patrolling the grounds almost amusing. Security had always been tight, but now? This was overkill.

Her gaze flicked over their uniforms, eyes narrowing slightly at the insignia embroidered on their sleeves.

Elite national guards?

Esme let out a quiet, breathy chuckle.

Her husbands really had gone all out.

But no matter how impenetrable the fortress seemed, she knew better.

These men might have been the country’s best, but she had spent years studying every inch of this estate. Every locked door, every security measure, every single blind spot.

For anyone else, sneaking in would be impossible.

For her?

It was simply a matter of stepping through the cracks no one else could see.

And by the time anyone noticed...

She’d already be inside.

---

After twenty minutes of struggle, Esme finally slipped inside the house with ease. She moved carefully, her steps light and calculated, blending into the silence that surrounded her. No alarms blared. No sirens rang.

A smirk ghosted across her lips.

Her sharp eyes scanned the dimly lit interior. No security system? No cameras? That was suspicious.

Hmm... let’s not believe it so easily.

Closing her eyes, she took a slow breath. When she opened them again, her irises shifted—black fading into an eerie shade of gold. This ability allowed her to see beyond ordinary vision, to detect things hidden from the naked eye.

Yet, as she looked again... still nothing.

Her brows furrowed. What the—?

She had expected hidden surveillance—secret cameras tucked into corners, disguised as everyday objects. But there was nothing. Not a single one.

And then it hit her.

They don’t want to risk being watched.

If there were no cameras, no recordings, no electronic traces... then no one could hack in and uncover anything. This wasn’t a lack of security—it was a deliberate choice. After all, who knew what this organization was truly capable of?

Her chest tightened slightly.

Pushing that thought aside, she continued deeper into the house. The moment she stepped further in, an eerie realization settled over her—it was too clean. Immaculate. Untouched. As if time had stood still within these walls.

The flower vase on the table stood precisely where it should. The chandelier cast the same warm glow. Even the air felt undisturbed, holding onto the faint scent of something soft—lavender, perhaps.

But then... something had changed.

Her golden eyes landed on the small details—subtle, but telling.

Tiny foam protectors were stuck to the corners of tables and furniture. On the switchboard, childproof covers were secured over unused outlets. The kind of precautions taken to safeguard a child.

Esme stilled.

Her gaze flickered to the walls, where she saw them—drawings.

Colorful, uneven scribbles stretched across the lower half of the wall, low enough that only tiny hands could have reached. The lines were wobbly, some barely forming recognizable shapes. Crayon strokes scratched into the surface—messy, innocent, alive.

Slowly, she approached. Lowering herself onto one knee, she reached out with trembling fingers, tracing the faded colors.

A warm yet aching smile tugged at her lips.

A tear gathered at the corner of her eye, blurring her vision for just a moment.

She had lost so much time. Too much time. And with it, she had missed something—something irreplaceable.