The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 410: [ Volume 1] Chaper 409- Being hunted down.

Somewhere in the Faraway Desert

A vast, scorching desert stretched endlessly under the blazing sun, its golden sands rippling like a restless sea. Yet, within this desolate landscape, hidden from the naked eye, stood an invisible fortress—an enormous structure that should have been seen, yet remained concealed from the world.

Inside, the air was cool, the dim lighting giving the place an eerie stillness. A massive control room stretched before them, its walls lined with hundreds of screens—each flickering with live feeds from various locations across the world. The soft hum of machines filled the silence, interrupted only by the rapid clicking of keyboards and the occasional murmur of voices.

At least fifteen co-workers sat at sleek, metallic desks, their eyes locked onto the wall of screens. Each feed displayed something different—city streets bustling with people, isolated highways stretching into the horizon, hidden laboratories, grand mansions, underground tunnels, and distant forests where shadows danced between the trees. Some screens zoomed in on individuals, tracking their movements with precision.

A faint green glow pulsed along the edges of certain screens, marking something—or someone—of special interest.

At the center of the room, a lone figure stood in the darkness, arms crossed as they surveyed the endless streams of information. Their face remained unreadable, their eyes scanning through the feeds with quiet intensity.

The woman stood still, her presence commanding, her voice a blade of ice as she spoke.

"Find her."

The room tensed. The co-workers, seated at their glowing terminals, flinched ever so slightly at the chilling authority in her tone. A few exchanged uneasy glances before one of them hesitantly cleared their throat.

"D-Doc... we’ve tried," the voice wavered. "But we can’t. We can’t even see her daughter."

A low, sharp chuckle sliced through the silence.

Then, a grin flashed across the woman’s face.

"Ha! Not find her daughter?" she scoffed, amusement curling in her words. "Of course, you can’t." 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

She tilted her head slightly, the glow of countless screens reflecting in her cold, crimson eyes—eyes that pierced through the dimly lit room like embers in the dark.

"She’s hiding her. Obviously."

A searing light flared in her gaze, not just from the monitors but from something far more dangerous—a fury buried deep, now rising to the surface.

Her white lab coat shifted slightly in the artificial air currents, the fabric catching the faint hum of machinery. She stood motionless, hands tucked into her pockets, exuding a terrifying calm. The darkness around her obscured the details of her face, her features blurred by shadows, but it did nothing to hide the weight of her presence.

Her patience was thinning.

Her eyes flicked to the screens again, narrowing as they fixated on Esme’s weakened figure.

"She thinks she can run forever?" she mused, almost to herself. "How foolish."

Then, her voice sharpened.

"If we can’t find the daughter, then we’ll make the mother come to us."

She turned slightly, her gaze sweeping across the room, pinning them in place.

"Prepare the next phase. Now."

The tension in the room spiked. No one dared hesitate.

Fingers flew over keyboards. Commands were issued in hushed voices. The hum of the machines deepened, the screens flickering with new, rapid data streams.

The hunt had begun.

A suffocating silence settled over the room.

The hum of machines continued, the flickering lights from the screens casting eerie shadows across the dimly lit space. Yet, despite the artificial glow, the air had turned cold. Not from temperature, but from something far more primal.

Fear.

The co-worker who had dared to speak felt their throat tighten, sweat forming on their brow despite the chill creeping down their spine. Their trembling hands clenched into fists beneath the table as they swallowed hard, forcing themselves to meet those cold, crimson eyes.

"A-Are you sure?"

The words barely escaped their lips, unsteady, laced with hesitation.

The woman—who had been staring at the screens—suddenly moved.

With a slow, deliberate turn, she faced the speaker.

The shift was subtle, yet it felt like the entire room had shrunk under her presence.

A sharp, deadly silence followed.

The others held their breath, eyes darting between the trembling co-worker and the woman whose gaze now bore into them with terrifying intensity.

Her expression was unreadable, but those glowing crimson eyes burned with something unreadable—calculating, predatory, merciless.

Then, she took a step forward.

One.

Another.

The sound of her boots against the polished floor echoed like a countdown.

She stopped just close enough that the speaker could feel the weight of her stare pressing down on them.

And then—she smiled.

A slow, chilling curve of her lips, one that was devoid of warmth.

"Are you questioning me?"

The speaker’s breath hitched.

Her voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came before the storm.

.

.

.

From that day on, the hunt began in earnest.

The first wave had been mere scouts—amateurs, meant to test the waters, to push her, to see how far she could run.

But now?

Now, they had sent professionals.

Only five of them.

Yet, that was all it took to push Esme to the brink.

Their attacks were precise, calculated, relentless. They didn’t just come to fight her—they came to wear her down. To weaken her. To force her into a corner where she had no choice but to break.

Esme fought back, of course. She had no other choice. Blood stained her hands, some hers, some theirs. She managed to take down a few, but not enough.

The wounds on her body multiplied. Deep gashes, bruises, burns—marks of the hunt that never ended.

Every time she thought she had a moment to breathe, another ambush came. They were always there, always watching, tracking her every move.

She had no time to rest. No time to heal.

And so, Esme did the only thing she could.

She hid

---

Days blurred into weeks, and the passing time had long lost its count. Normally, it would be just a day or two—three at most—before they would hear from her. A fleeting visit, a brief message, or even the smallest token to assure them that she was alive. But this time, nine—no, ten days had passed. And there was nothing.