Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 127: Her Reckoning

Myra, now visibly trembling, grabbed Alan’s arm. "Do something! Stop her!" she shrieked, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear.

However, no one moved to obey Myra’s demands. Instead, a group of men in black suits emerged from the shadows and surrounded the stage. Their presence left no room for argument—these were not ordinary security personnel. Their stance was clear: they were protecting Ephyra, ensuring that no one would approach or disrupt what was unfolding.

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, but the men’s presence created an invisible barrier that no one dared to cross. Ephyra, standing in the center of the storm, remained calm, her expression serene as the guests reacted around her.

From the corner of the room, a figure emerged—Leandra. Her movements were unhurried, yet her eyes blazed with fury. She approached the stage, her gown sweeping behind her like a cape.

Before she could speak, Ephyra’s voice rang out, "Mrs. Leandra Latham," she began, her tone a mix of feigned sweetness and icy control, "I hope this wasn’t too much of a surprise for you. Oh, what am I saying?" She tilted her head, her smile venomous. "You’re probably a hundred times angrier than you are surprised. And, if I had to guess, you’re itching to tear me apart right here on this stage, aren’t you?"

Leandra’s eyes narrowed, but she remained silent, her jaw clenched.

Ephyra’s expression softened into mock regret, her voice dripping with insincere apology. "I understand your anger. I broke my promise, didn’t I? The deal we made? But really, Mrs. Latham, you should’ve known better than to take my word for it. That was rather...naïve of you." Her smile widened, "Don’t worry, though. You won’t be angry for long. You see, this video?" She gestured toward the now-static screen. "This is just the appetizer. Tonight’s main course is a feast of revelations. And I assure you, there’s something on the menu for everyone."

She turned to address the crowd, her voice clear and commanding. "Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce the evening’s new program—Revelation. In this segment, we’ll be unveiling truths that are guaranteed to make your heads spin. You’re not just guests tonight; you’re witnesses. And don’t worry, I’ve prepared something special for the media as well."

Gasps rippled through the ballroom. Faces paled, and the murmurs swelled into a wave of unease. Among those visibly shaken were Myra, Alan, Leandra, Eliot, and Marianna, each of them trapped in a growing web of panic.

Ephyra’s sharp gaze flicked to the screen as the first video ended, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. Then, she smiled—a slow, deliberate curve of her lips. "As I mentioned earlier, this video is merely the beginning," she announced, her tone electric with anticipation. "And now, we move on to the next. This one is especially dear to me. It’s in response to my sweet step-sister’s earlier denial about her involvement in the accident where I died and came back to life."

Myra, trembling with barely contained fury, found her voice. "What the fuck are you talking about, you bitch?!" she screamed, her face flushed with anger. "I wasn’t the one who caused your accident, so stop blaming me for your twisted delusions! You’re insane!"

Ephyra didn’t flinch. Instead, she turned to the audience, her calm demeanor a sharp contrast to Myra’s unraveling composure. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said, gesturing grandly toward the screen, "please, watch this."

The screen flickered to life once more, revealing a grainy yet unmistakable video. The footage showed Myra and Ephyra in an alleyway with a few other figures standing haughtily behind Myra who was towering over Ephyra who was holding herself up on the ground.

The video cut sharply to the alley, the grainy footage capturing the laughter and cruelty in excruciating detail. Mira towered over Ephyra, who was still crumpled on the ground, her face streaked with tears. The onlookers in the ballroom were silent, transfixed by the unfolding scene, the tension in the room thick enough to suffocate.

In the video, Mira crouched down, her face inches from Ephyra. "You’re such a sad little thing, aren’t you? Always trying so hard to matter. But no one cares about you, Ephyra. Not Alan, not Father, and certainly not me. Do you know why?" Her smile was venomous. "Because you’re a burden. A pathetic, insignificant burden." ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

One of Mira’s friends sneered from the background, "She should be grateful we even acknowledge her existence."

Mira straightened, brushing imaginary dust off her dress. "She’ll learn her place soon enough." Turning to Ephyra, she added, "Consider this your final warning. If you so much as look at Alan again, I’ll make sure you disappear. Permanently."

The video transitioned seamlessly, showing Ephyra as she stumbled out of the alley, clutching the letter and bear to her chest. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, her steps unsteady as she wandered the darkening streets.

In the ballroom, the air grew colder as the audience watched her descent into despair. The faint hum of the video’s audio was the only sound, amplifying the weight of Ephyra’s agony.

On the screen, the camera shifted to capture her standing at the edge of a busy intersection. The rain poured in sheets, soaking her completely as she stared blankly at the traffic. Cars rushed past, their headlights illuminating her trembling form.

The audio picked up her voice, barely a whisper over the downpour. "Maybe... it’s better this way. Maybe they’ll finally be happy if I’m gone."

Gasps echoed through the ballroom as the crowd watched her step forward, the glare of an oncoming car growing brighter. The driver’s frantic honking and screeching brakes were muffled as the screen showed Ephyra being struck, her body tossed like a ragdoll onto the pavement.

The footage slowed, replaying the collision in agonizing detail. The sound of her body hitting the ground was visceral, making several guests flinch. The rain continued to fall, mixing with the blood pooling beneath her motionless form.

The video cut again, this time to the aftermath. Police officers surrounded her, their voices urgent but panicked. One crouched beside her, pressing his hands against her bleeding head. "Stay with me! Ambulance is on the way! Don’t give up!"

The video faded to black, the room plunged into silence save for the faint hum of the projector.

The lights in the ballroom flickered back on, revealing a room full of pale, shocked faces. All eyes turned to Ephyra, who stood on the stage, calm and composed, her expression betraying nothing of the storm inside her.

"Now you see," Ephyra said softly, her voice carrying across the silent room. "This is the truth that Mira, Alan, and my stepmother wanted to bury. The truth they wanted to erase. But I refuse to be erased."

Mira, trembling with rage and fear, shrieked, "This proves nothing! You’re twisting everything! You’re just trying to make us look bad!"

Ephyra’s sharp, icy laugh echoed through the room. "Make you look bad? Mira, darling, I didn’t need to do anything. You did all of this yourself." Her gaze turned to the crowd, her tone hardening. "And for anyone else in this room who knew, who watched and said nothing—you’re just as guilty."

The room erupted into murmurs and hushed accusations as guests turned on one another, the weight of their complicity pressing down like a vice.

Ephyra raised a hand, silencing them. "And as for you, Mira..." She stepped forward, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You claimed I wasn’t dead, but the Ephyra you knew did die that night. What stands before you now is her ghost—and her reckoning."

The ballroom erupted into chaos, voices rising in panic and disbelief. But Ephyra remained unshaken, standing at the center of the storm she had unleashed, her expression calm yet brimming with satisfaction. She raised a hand, silencing the room.

Ah, my dear guests," she began smoothly, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "I see you’re all quite agitated. But truly, there’s no need to fret—this is merely the prelude. You’ve seen nothing yet." Her tone was light, almost conversational, but laced with an edge that sent a shiver through the crowd.

Ephyra’s gaze shifted to Marianna, who was trembling now, her carefully maintained composure beginning to crack. "And you, dearest stepmother," Ephyra said, her voice dripping with mock affection, "I must commend your imagination. Sending your ’old friend’ Rico from the orphanage to take care of me? How very resourceful of you." She tilted her head, her lips curving into a cold smile. "What a shame it didn’t work out as you planned. Oh, I forgot to mention—his body won’t be found. Wild animals do have a way of disposing of inconveniences."

Marianna’s face was drained of color. "W-What are you saying?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ephyra took a step closer, her heels clicking ominously against the polished floor. "You believed my story, didn’t you? About being saved by a kind stranger? How quaint. Yes, I was saved—after I had already dealt with Rico’s men myself. Did you really think I’d let them dispose of me so easily?" Her smile widened, but her eyes were ice-cold. "I suppose you never really knew your step-daughter at all."

The room was deathly silent, save for the faint hum of the chandeliers. Marianna’s lips moved soundlessly as she struggled to process the revelation, her carefully constructed world crumbling before her eyes.

"You—you’re lying," Marianna hissed, clutching the edge of the nearest table for support. "This is all just a sick game to you!"

Ephyra laughed softly, the sound both beautiful and terrifying. "A game? Oh, Marianna, if this were a game, you’d have already lost." She gestured to the screen, where footage began to play again, this time showing Rico’s men standing in front of her and laughing at her, then the next moment, she was beating them all up.