The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 364: [ Volume 1] Chaper - A trap for us.

Ray squinted at the trophy again, his fingers lingering on the engraved date: January 30, 2012. The numbers seemed to pulse under his touch, demanding answers. His brow furrowed as unease crept into his chest. Why that day? Why would someone go to such lengths to hide this trophy?

He set the trophy down carefully, pulled out his phone, and typed the date into a search engine. His fingers hovered as he scrolled, eyes darting over headlines and news articles. Nothing. No national tragedies, no breaking news, not even a minor local event.

"Just a normal Wednesday," he muttered, frustrated. Yet the weight in his chest only grew heavier.

Leaning back in his chair, Ray stared at the trophy again. The elegant curves of the award seemed to mock him with its silence. It didn’t make sense. He knew Esme’s life was far from ordinary—everything about her had layers, from her mysterious demeanor to her inexplicably close circle of Aron and Helga. Her college wasn’t just prestigious; it was legendary, a place where only the best of the best thrived. If something significant had happened on that date, surely it would’ve been recorded somewhere.

But there was nothing.

Ray gripped the edge of his desk, his thoughts spiraling. Then it hit him—a cold realization that made his chest tighten. His fingers trembled as he unlocked his phone again. Without hesitating, he dialed Aron’s number, the unease gnawing at him like a living thing.

Trim. Trim. Trim.

The ringing dragged on for what felt like an eternity. Across the city, Aron was seated in his expansive office, the soft glow of sunlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was immaculate, every piece of furniture perfectly placed, every surface spotless. A small boy, no older than four, sat on the plush sofa in the corner, engrossed in a picture book, his tiny legs swinging over the edge.

Aron adjusted his glasses as he scribbled notes on a document, his mind miles away. When the phone on his desk buzzed, he frowned, glancing at the screen. Seeing Ray’s name flash across the display made his brows knit together. He hesitated, then picked it up.

"Ray?" His voice was calm, measured, as always.

On the other end, Ray’s voice was anything but. "Aron, I need to ask you something. It’s important."

Aron leaned back in his chair, his tone sharpening. "What is it?"

"January 30, 2017," Ray said, his words rushing out in a tumble. "Does that date mean anything to you? Did something happen that day? Something related to Esme?"

Aron stilled, his pen falling silent against the paper. The date echoed in his mind like a distant bell, tugging at memories he’d locked away. His grip on the phone tightened. "What are you talking about, Ray?"

"Just—think," Ray urged, his voice trembling. "Does that date hold any significance? Anything that might explain why it’s engraved on a trophy hidden behind a secret panel?"

Aron froze at the mention of Esme’s name. The sound of it cracked through his composure, stirring something raw and buried. His tone shifted, turning grave. "Give me a moment."

He set the phone on speaker and turned to his laptop. His fingers moved with urgency, pulling up files and notes, each keystroke more desperate than the last. Finally, he stopped, his eyes locking on an entry in an old, worn digital journal.

"Aron?" Ray’s voice was almost a whisper now.

Aron’s chest felt tight as he reread the words on the screen. He swallowed hard, picking up the phone. "It’s Cain’s death day."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Ray’s breath hitched. "Cain...?"

Ray’s mind felt as though it had been plunged into ice. For a moment, everything around him froze, his thoughts caught in a tangled web of shock and realization. His eyes darted frantically, scanning the room, taking in details he had overlooked in his growing frustration.

The phone was still pressed to his ear.

His gaze swept over the shelf, the neatly arranged awards gleaming in the dim light. Then it struck him—none of them had inscriptions detailing achievements. No titles, no reasons for their existence. Just dates.

Pushing aside the unsettling thought, Ray walked to the shelf where the rest of the trophies stood. His fingers brushed against the smooth metal, and he murmured aloud, "12 August 2015."

Aron stayed silent on the other end. The pause dragged, thick with unspoken words. Then, Aron’s voice came through, quiet but tight, his tone filled with a weight Ray hadn’t expected. "Esme and Cain’s first date."

Ray’s jaw tightened. The calm in his voice was deceptive, masking the storm churning within him as he continued. "17 August 2015."

Aron exhaled audibly, gripping his phone as he stared at his laptop screen. "Visited Cain’s father that day."

Ray didn’t stop. His questions came steady and pointed, each one dragging Aron deeper into memories he seemed reluctant to share. It was as if Ray had switched off his emotions, letting his focus carry him forward.

"15 January 2017," Ray said finally, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade.

This time, Aron froze. He didn’t speak for a long moment, the weight of the date hanging heavily between them. Finally, his voice came through, quieter than before but carrying a gravity that pressed down on Ray’s chest. "Ray... before I answer that... I need to say something."

Ray stayed silent, his grip on the phone tightening.

"I know Esme’s past wasn’t perfect," Aron began, his tone heavy yet steady. "She carried more pain and secrets than most people could bear. But I also know this—what she felt for you guys was real. The way her eyes lit up when she was with you, the way she laughed, the way she teased... it was something I’d never seen in her before. Something pure, something alive."

Ray swallowed hard, his throat dry. Aron’s words were like a double-edged sword, cutting through the fog of his thoughts but leaving him raw and exposed.