The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 431: [ Volume 1] Chaper 430- Twisted scientist.

"She is a human," Ray growled, voice low and guttural. "Not some toy for you twisted monsters to poke and prod."

The woman didn’t flinch. She tilted her head, wearing a cold, practiced indifference like a mask. Her lips curled into a half-smile, the kind reserved for ignorant children or—worse—mers she believed to be beneath her.

"To you, maybe," she said with a chuckle that didn’t reach her eyes. "But to me... she’s a living mystery. A miracle. You know what one drop of her blood can do?" Her voice dropped lower, almost reverent. "It can heal anything. Wounds. Disease. Maybe even time itself."

She took a step closer to the glass chamber, her hand trailing along its surface like it was sacred.

"So tell me, what’s more valuable—her life? Or her blood?"

As she spoke, her tone twisted—warped into something inhuman. Something that licked at the edges of sanity. Something... satanic.

Ray’s fists clenched until the knuckles went bone-white. His eyes didn’t even blink. "She is a human, you damn bitch. And more than that, she’s my wife. So don’t you even dare think of touching her again."

That made her laugh.

"Pft—hahaha!" She doubled over slightly, shaking her head. "You really think you just walked in here all on your own? That this wasn’t accounted for?"

She straightened, her smile cruel.

"Poor Ray. You think you’re clever? You think you just slipped past everything? You didn’t enter this place, sweetheart. You were let in. Every step. Every breath. All of it... my design."

Ray didn’t even flinch. Not a twitch of shock. Just a dead stare.

Of course he knew.

They thought he was stupid? This woman, her organization, the guards, the traps? Please. He ran empires. Balanced billions. Fought sharks in suits with one hand and held up his brothers with the other. Did they really think he wouldn’t smell a setup from miles away?

She noticed.

The amusement flickered on her face, though the smile itself faded. "Huh... not reacting. Not even a flicker. Guess you expected this too, didn’t you?"

Ray finally moved. He pulled a metal chair from the corner, dragged it with a deliberate screech across the floor, and sat down. Legs crossed. One arm resting lazily over the back, the other examining his nails as if they were more interesting than her entire existence.

"What?" he said, voice calm as steel. "You thought you were some big shot? A master strategist? Even a street dog could sniff this trap out. Don’t flatter yourself."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You knew this was dangerous," she hissed. "And you still walked in. So what are you, Ray? Brave... or just a damn idiot with nothing left to lose?"

Ray chuckled—low and sardonic.

"You think Esme is the only divine beast in this world?" he asked, voice laced with amused contempt. "You think you’re feared? You? The big bad doc who tortures mers and throws around words like science and sacrifice to justify her experiments?"

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, tone dropping into something sharp.

"Tell me something real. Enough of this melodrama. Why did you bring me here?" His gaze didn’t even meet hers—instead, he continued examining his hand, as though brushing off dust from his cufflinks.

That did it.

She stiffened.

Yes, her plan wasn’t flawless. Not even close. She could have done better. But the truth was, she never bothered to try. People like Ray—especially mers—they weren’t worth the effort in her eyes.

Not even humans with beast blood impressed her anymore. Not when her ideology ran deep with something darker—racism. A disdain rooted in her belief that beings like Esme were tools. Test subjects. Sacrifices for the greater "good" she defined.

To her, they were never equals. Just data with a heartbeat.

And for the first time in a long while, that delusion cracked just a little... because Ray wasn’t what she expected.

He wasn’t begging.

He wasn’t furious.

He was bored.

She leaned over the glass jar like it was the crown jewel of her deranged collection, eyes wide with manic fascination. Her fingers traced the curved surface of the jar, slow and reverent, as if Esme were some precious specimen instead of a living, breathing person suspended inside.

"She’s... fascinating," she whispered, her voice laced with a disturbing kind of awe. "I told her I killed her parents—nothing. I said I’d rip apart her company, her name, her legacy—still nothing. Her children, her friends, her entire existence crumbling before her..." Her lips twisted into a giddy grin. "And still—no reaction!"

She twirled around on her heel with a wild laugh, eyes gleaming like broken glass. "But the moment I said I’d hurt you..." she pointed a finger at Ray, almost trembling with excitement, "She twitched. She felt. That heartbeat I couldn’t find before? It came alive."

Ray blinked, utterly unbothered. Then his mouth curved into a crooked grin.

"Ohhh," he said, dragging the syllable with the patience of a tired professor correcting a clueless student. "So you thought bringing me here would be your magic key, huh? The moment she’d open her eyes, cry out your name, fall to her knees and say ’Please, don’t hurt him, I’ll do anything’?"

He gave a theatrical snort, eyes rolling.

"Come on. She’s not gay. Please. I mean, I get it—you’re dazzled. She’s cute, beautiful, smart, has actual personality—all the things you’re clearly not familiar with."

He casually raised his hand and wiggled his ring finger in the air, the silver band catching the light. "We’re already married, sweetheart. So if this was your grand lesbian awakening fantasy arc, I’m afraid you’re crashing headfirst into rejection."

"Hah ..you are just...."

She scowled, but Ray wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

"And even if she wasn’t mine—which she is—you seriously think she’d choose someone like you?" He looked her up and down like he was inspecting a questionable science fair project. "You’ve got the emotional depth of a frying pan and the personality of wet cardboard. And don’t get me started on the fashion—lab coat chic died two decades ago, darling."