The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 424: [Volume 1] - 423 - Died or Kidnapped: What’s the Matter?

Chapter 424: [Volume 1] Chapter 423 - Died or Kidnapped: What’s the Matter?

Jay didn’t answer. He stared back, silent. Too silent.

That silence only stoked the fire burning in Ray’s chest.

"Say something, damn it!" Ray barked, eyes narrowing. "Why do you always stand there like a ghost when everything’s falling apart?"

Before Jay could speak, another voice—gentle yet firm—cut through the tension.

"It’s alright," Kai said, stepping forward with quiet finality as he picked up both children into his arms. "Everything’s settled. Esme and the organization... they’re gone. They’ve left the city."

Ray froze, as if his entire system just shut down.

"What?" he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.

Kai looked at him, eyes unreadable.

"Her parents told me. Esme was taken by them. And now..." He exhaled slowly. "Now they won’t be coming for us. Because they got what they came for. They got their Ray."

The words hung in the air like the aftermath of an explosion. Ray stood there, rooted, blinking, unable to comprehend.

Kai turned to the children and offered them a small smile.

"Go on, pap needs to talk to Dada," he said softly. "Play in the nursery for a while."

The children nodded, unaware of the heavy air between the adults, and trotted away. Their laughter faded into the hallway, replaced by a suffocating silence.

Then Kai looked back at Ray. His voice was low, almost too calm.

"She’s gone."

Ray’s head jerked toward him.

"And you’re just... okay with that?" he asked, voice cracking. "She’s gone, Kai. Esme is gone. And you’re standing there like it’s nothing."

Kai’s eyes didn’t flinch. There was no malice in them. No tears either. Just a quiet resignation.

"She was already gone for us, Ray," he said, voice hollow and raw. "Three years ago. That day—when she changed, when she walked away—something in her died. We just kept pretending she was still there."

He paused, and for a moment, Ray swore he saw something flicker in Kai’s eyes. Not sadness. Not relief. But a grief so deep it had turned into acceptance.

"So no," Kai continued. "She didn’t die today. She died the moment she stopped coming back."

Ray stared at Kai, utterly dumbfounded. "How can you talk about her death so easily?" His voice trembled with disbelief, with something dangerously close to grief.

Kai didn’t flinch. Instead, he returned the look with a cold, unfriendly calm, the kind that could cut glass.

"Well, why does it matter?" he said, voice laced with cruel logic. "It’s not like she was our sweet little sunshine or the love of our lives. We didn’t love her."

Ray’s lips parted in shock. He blinked once, twice, as if trying to catch up with the weight of those words.

"She was our wife," he said quietly. Then louder, more urgently— "She was our spouse, Kai! How can you even—"

Kai held up a hand, almost bored. "Wait a minute, brother," he said with a mocking half-smile. "I think you’ve got that twisted. She was your wife. Not mine. And if I remember correctly..." he leaned forward, voice dropping like poison into the room, "in the eyes of the public, on every official record, S.M. Valhale died three years ago."

Ray’s breath caught in his chest.

Kai went on, cold and sharp, "Legally, she’s gone. Dead. Which means we don’t owe her anything—not now, not ever. So what does it matter if she died that day, or yesterday, or rotted away in that goddamn organization’s basement? The world already thinks she’s six feet under."

SLAP.

The sound cracked across the room, echoing off the walls like a whip.

Kai’s head snapped to the side, cheek stinging red from Ray’s hand. Silence.

Kai slowly turned his head back toward his brother. Ray was shaking—eyes wide, chest rising and falling too fast. On the verge of breaking.

Kai’s mouth opened, but Ray beat him to it.

"Is this how you talk about your wife?" he whispered. "Is this how you speak about someone who shared a roof with us? Who laughed with us? Bled for us?" His voice rose with every word. "How dare you reduce her to nothing—"

"S.M.," Kai snapped suddenly, cutting through the storm.

Ray froze.

Kai’s voice was hard now, eyes burning with old memories. "Maybe you’ve forgotten. But I haven’t. You were the one who brought her in. You told us she was just for show, a name to help clean up your image. We didn’t need romance or sentiment—you made that crystal clear."

Kai stepped forward, inch by inch.

"You made her sign a contract. You told us not to fall in love with her. You said—your words, not mine—that she was a tool, not a partner. That she should expect everything from us, and we should expect nothing from her."

Ray looked stunned, the words slicing at him like knives. His jaw clenched, knuckles white at his sides.

"You drew the lines, brother," Kai continued, voice tightening. "We agreed to them. We followed them. And now you’re standing here acting like she was some innocent bride we shattered?"

Kai’s tone dropped, quiet, almost sad.

"Just a few days ago, you told us not to get involved anymore. You told us she made her bed and you weren’t going to look back. You said if she died, it didn’t matter anymore. So what changed?"

Ray looked at Kai, his voice trembling but firm. "I said it. Yes, I did. But I only said it because... because she lied to me. She heard the truth from us—and still chose to hide hers."

Kai scoffed, the bitterness in his eyes cutting deeper than any blade. He let out a hollow laugh, tilting his head slightly as if in disbelief. "Are you seriously saying this right now?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous.

Ray’s mouth parted, but no words came. His breath caught somewhere between defense and regret.

Kai took a step forward, his gaze fixed like fire. "Do you even have the right to say that?" he asked quietly—and yet his words echoed like thunder.

Ray stood frozen, as if Kai’s words struck something he didn’t want to face.