Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 140: You Stayed

Rylie Carver stepped out of the black car, his polished dress shoes meeting the pristine pavement outside Carver Industries. The morning sun reflected off the towering glass building, its bold silver lettering gleaming against the clear sky.

As he walked through the grand lobby, employees stopped mid-conversation to make way for him, offering polite nods and murmured greetings. The executive staff, gathered near the reception desk, greeted him with enthusiastic smiles and respectful bows.

"Good morning, Mr. Carver."

"Welcome, Sir!"

But Rylie’s cold gray eyes barely flicked in their direction. His face, a mask of indifference, betrayed no acknowledgment as he strode toward the private elevator at the back of the lobby. His personal assistant, trailing just a step behind, offered curt nods to the gathered employees on Rylie’s behalf.

The soft chime of the elevator doors opening broke the tense silence. Rylie stepped inside, his long red hair tied into a low ponytail swaying slightly as he adjusted the cufflinks on his tailored black suit. The assistant followed him inside, pressing the button for the top floor.

The ride was silent except for the faint hum of the elevator. Rylie’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes focused ahead.

When the doors opened to the top floor, his female secretary stood from her desk immediately. She was impeccably dressed in a form-fitting pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse that left little to the imagination. Her eyes lit up as she greeted him and her ruby-red lips parted in a warm, practiced smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Carver," she said, her voice lilting and professional, though her body language was subtly flirtatious.

Rylie didn’t so much as glance her way. His stride forward and pushed open the doors to his office. His assistant, ever the professional, offered the secretary a small nod in acknowledgment of her greeting before following Rylie inside.

The massive floor-to-ceiling windows behind the desk showcased an unobstructed view of the New York City skyline, sunlight streaming in to illuminate the polished mahogany desk and minimalist decor.

Rylie poured himself a drink from the crystal decanter on the sideboard, the faint clink of glass against glass breaking the silence. He moved to stand in front of the window, the city sprawling beneath him.

Without turning, he spoke, his voice low and smooth. "The news regarding the banquet last night—what’s your assessment?"

His assistant adjusted his glasses, standing a respectful distance behind him. "Is Sir referring to the crimes Ephyra Allen exposed or the fallout it has caused for Latham Industries?"

Rylie smirked, the corner of his mouth curling as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "Neither. I’m referring to the remarkable timing of it all. Aelion Laboratories sponsoring the banquet, how Ephyra Allen was able to reveal everything without interference, as if someone was shielding her. And the swift dissolution of the Aelion-Latham partnership—it’s all too... convenient, wouldn’t you agree?"

The assistant hesitated, carefully choosing his words. "Is Sir suggesting that the entire sequence of events—from the sponsorship to the public disgrace of Latham Industries—was orchestrated?"

Rylie took a slow sip of his drink, his storm-gray eyes glinting with calculation as he stared out at the city. "I don’t believe in coincidences, especially not ones that result in the overnight downfall of a multi-billion-dollar enterprise. Someone wanted Latham to fall."

"But it couldn’t possibly be Aelion Laboratories," Rylie continued, his tone sharp yet thoughtful, "because compared to them, Latham Laboratories is insignificant. If Aelion Labs wanted them gone, they could’ve dismantled them quietly—efficiently—in countless other ways. This... this was something else entirely."

The assistant nodded, his brows furrowing slightly as he processed Rylie’s words. "Then, it isn’t Aelion Laboratories at all. It’s someone else—someone with a personal vendetta. Whoever orchestrated this didn’t just want the Latham family business to collapse. They wanted the family itself to fracture—to destroy them from the inside out."

Rylie’s smirk deepened, the edges of his glass brushing his lips as he took another sip. "Precisely. The way the banquet unfolded, the timing of the revelations, the fallout—it wasn’t simply about dismantling Latham Industries. It was about ensuring they’d never recover. Their reputation? Tarnished. Their alliances? Broken. And their family? Left to tear itself apart."

"So this was all planned by someone and Aelion only helped?" freёnovelkiss.com

Rylie turned from the window, his piercing gaze locking onto his assistant. His smirk deepened, the glint in his eyes predatory. "Planned, calculated, and executed with precision," he said, his tone dripping with certainty. "And that someone may very well be Ephyra Allen. Think about it. She wasn’t just a messenger at the banquet; she was the executioner. The timing, the evidence, her demeanor—it wasn’t accidental. She didn’t just stumble into that moment."

The assistant frowned, still cautious. "But how would she have access to such intricate details? And why would she go to such lengths?"

"That’s exactly what I intend to find out," Rylie replied, his voice low but brimming with resolve. "Ephyra Allen isn’t just a young woman who got lucky. She’s a player in this game, and I want to know whose side she’s on—or if she’s playing for herself."

He stepped back toward his desk, his hand casually running along its edge. "Begin digging. I want everything—her connections, her movements, her history. If she’s capable of orchestrating something like this, then she’s far more dangerous than she appears."

"Yes, sir," the assistant replied, straightening as he made a note.

Rylie sank into his chair, his smirk returning as he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the desk. "Let’s see how far down this rabbit hole goes."

—

The next morning, Ephyra’s lids fluttered open, her gaze meeting the soft light streaming in through the curtains. For a moment, she lay still, the events of the previous night swirling hazily in her mind. The sharp edges of her memories—her confrontation at the masquerade, the weight of her sorrow, and the overwhelming comfort she’d found in Lyle’s embrace—began to settle.

Ephyra turned her head slightly, her gaze landing on the chair beside the bed. Lyle sat there, his head tilted back, eyes closed as if lost in a rare moment of peace. The soft morning light streaming through the curtains played across his features, highlighting the things she didn’t take notice of before or didn’t care to, the strong line of his jaw, the subtle curve of his lips, and the faint reddish undertones in his hair.

Reddish undertone? Weird.

Still, for a man who so often exuded an aura of danger and control, he seemed almost gentle in this moment—vulnerable, even. Ephyra couldn’t help herself. Without realizing it, she slipped out of bed, her bare feet padding softly against the floor. She stopped at his side, bending down slightly to study him more closely.

Her gaze traced the faint scar she had never seen on his temple, the way his long lashes rested against his cheeks, and the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. There was something captivating about him—something that made her chest tighten in a way she didn’t fully understand.

Before she could stop herself, her hand moved of its own accord, her finger extending toward his face. She wasn’t sure what she intended—perhaps to trace the scar or confirm that he was real. But the moment her fingertip hovered just inches from his skin, his eyes fluttered open, catching her completely off guard.

Startled, Ephyra yelped softly and stumbled back as if she’d been caught stealing. Her legs, still tangled in the gown she’d worn the night before, betrayed her, and she lost her footing. She fell backward with a gasp, but before she could hit the floor, Lyle moved faster than she could process, his arms shooting out to catch her.

In one fluid motion, he pulled her into his lap, her body now perched sideways across him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only sound in the room the faint rustling of fabric and the silence of the room they were in.

Lyle looked down at her, his expression calm but his eyes holding an amused glint. "I wasn’t going to stop you from staring at me," he said smoothly, breaking the silence.

Ephyra blinked, her cheeks heating in embarrassment. "I wasn’t staring at you," she protested, her voice defensive but soft.

"Right," Lyle replied, the corner of his mouth curving upward in a small, knowing smirk. "You weren’t staring. You were about to touch me. And I still wouldn’t have stopped you."

His words caught her off guard, and she stared up at him, her lips parting slightly in surprise. "Is this your other personality talking again?" she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"No," he said simply, his tone unwavering.

A silence fell between them, the weight of the moment settling over them like a heavy blanket. Ephyra shifted slightly in his lap, suddenly hyper aware of how close they were. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her side.

Finally, she whispered, almost inaudibly, "You stayed."

The words were soft, but they carried a vulnerability that made Lyle’s expression shift. His smirk faded, replaced by something gentler, something raw. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto hers.

"Of course I stayed," he said, his voice low and steady. "I told you I wouldn’t leave you. And I don’t break my promises."

Ephyra’s breath hitched at his words, her hands instinctively gripping the fabric of his shirt.