Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 131: The Damn Difference

{I hope you all enjoyed the last couple of Chapters as I enjoyed writing it.}

—

She turned to Alan, who stood rigidly with both fists clenching and unclenching. Then she walked toward him and stopped a few feet away.

Ephyra stared at him as he glared at her, his jaw tight and his posture radiating tension.

"Alan," she said, her voice sharp but calm, cutting through the whispers around them. "You are so pathetic, it hurts my eyes to even look at you." She tilted her head and smiled. "Why the hell are you glaring at me? Are you angry? You shouldn’t be—because you have no fucking right to."

His glare darkened, and he took a step forward but was stopped when a punch landed squarely on his jaw, sending him stumbling back. Gasps erupted across the ballroom as Ephyra straightened her posture, shaking her hand slightly to rid herself of the sting while moving closer to him.

Alan rubbed his jaw, his expression a mixture of fury and humiliation. He opened his mouth to retort, but Ephyra punched him twice—once in the face and once in the gut, making him double over with a groan. The crowd froze, their whispers fading into stunned silence as Ephyra stood tall over Alan, her expression cold.

Straightening her back, she rolled her shoulders, exhaling softly. "You should fight back. I’m not stopping you. Don’t feel fucking guilty now—you didn’t feel guilty when you sent men after me. And now? Now, it’s completely useless—just like you’re going to be soon."

Her words got a rise out of Alan, who swung his fist at her, but he was too slow. Ephyra scoffed as she caught his arm, twisted it, and punched him continuously, releasing a fraction of her anger. Each blow carried the weight of years of pain, betrayal, and fury. Alan crumpled to the floor, clutching his arm and coughing violently, but Ephyra showed no sign of stopping. Her movements were relentless.

"Do you feel that?" she asked coldly, crouching down to look him in the eyes. Her voice was calm, almost conversational, as though this were just another mundane interaction. "That’s the difference between us, Alan. You break people to make yourself feel strong. But me? I break people like you because I am strong."

The room was dead silent, save for Alan’s labored breathing. Ephyra stood, dusting off her hands as if the encounter was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. She turned to the crowd, her gaze sweeping over the onlookers before landing on Marianna.

"Marianna, honestly, I’m not satisfied with only exposing your lies. Do you know what I really want? What I want is to hurt you in every way you hurt me—but the difference is that the level of pain will be a hundred times worse." She smiled, tilting her head. "But I won’t. At least, not yet."

"I also know that if you were given another chance, you wouldn’t change. And since everything you’ve done is enough to get you arrested and thrown into prison for the rest of your miserable life, I’m going to make sure justice is served—not just by the law, but by me."

Ephyra’s voice hardened, and the crowd could feel the weight of her words. She stepped forward, staring down at Marianna, whose sobs grew louder, her entire frame trembling.

"But let me be clear, Marianna," Ephyra continued, her tone dripping with venom. "Prison is too kind for someone like you. I’ll make sure every single connection you’ve ever built crumbles. Every person you’ve deceived will see you for what you truly are—a liar, a manipulator, and a parasite. By the time I’m done, there won’t even be a whisper of your name left in society."

Marianna flinched, shaking her head. "Please... Ephyra, I’m sorry. I—"

"You’re not sorry for what you did," Ephyra interrupted, her icy glare cutting through Marianna’s plea. "You’re sorry you got caught. That’s the damn difference."

She turned her back on Marianna and faced the crowd, her commanding presence silencing any remaining murmurs.

"To everyone here," Ephyra declared, her voice ringing with authority. "You’ve all seen the evidence. You’ve heard the lies. You’ve witnessed the truth. Let this be a lesson—not just for Marianna, Myra, and Alan, but for everyone who’s ever believed they could walk over others and escape the consequences. Karma is patient, but it is relentless."

The crowd, a mixture of awe, fear, and admiration, stared at Ephyra as though she were a force of nature—a storm that had uprooted everything false and left only the truth in its wake.

Ephyra took a step toward the exit but paused, glancing over her shoulder at the three figures still cowering before her. "Consider this night the beginning of the end for you all," she said softly, her words carrying a finality that sent shivers through the room. "And remember—this was only the first act. The real punishment has yet to come."

"Oh, and Father, you can keep the company and all the assets for yourself. I don’t need them, so don’t even think about giving them to me. I’m sure you never knew, but Elara left a lot of things for me—things that will let me live without worry for the rest of my life." Eliot’s surprise was palpable, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "So thank you and goodbye."

With that, Ephyra strode toward the ballroom doors, the crowd parting to let her pass. The silence was deafening, save for the click of her heels against the marble floor.

The silence in her wake lingered, the weight of her words hanging in the air like an unrelenting storm. Whispers started again once she was gone, each person sharing their astonishment, disbelief, or grudging respect.

"She really didn’t hold back," one guest murmured.

"She didn’t need to," another replied. "They deserved every word."

—

Outside, Ephyra inhaled deeply, the crisp night air filling her lungs. She didn’t need to walk far. Up ahead, beside the car that had brought her to the masquerade party, Lyle stood waiting.

As soon as she stepped out, his gaze locked onto her, intense and unrelenting, as she got closer.

When Ephyra saw him and felt his gaze, she didn’t know why or how, but she suddenly felt as if something heavy had been placed on her chest, making it hard to breathe. It wasn’t fear—no, it was something else. It was the same feeling Ephyra had experienced when she died.

It was a crushing and overwhelming sadness—something Ephyra had never felt before.

It was so strong that she couldn’t help herself. As soon as she reached Lyle, she spread her arms and wrapped them around his neck, burying her face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder just as tears fell from her eyes.

Lyle, on the other hand, hadn’t expected Ephyra to suddenly hug him, but when he felt her tears soaking his shirt, he wrapped his arms around her waist and stared down at her.

He felt it too—the pain she was going through. He felt the pressure on his chest and the crushing wave of emotions as if they were his own. His grip around her tightened—not out of possessiveness this time, but out of a silent vow to bear the weight of her sorrow with her.

"Ephyra," Lyle murmured, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. It was devoid of his usual commanding tone, replaced instead by something raw and unguarded. "You’re safe now. Let it out."

His words broke the fragile wall Ephyra had constructed around her emotions. The cold, calculated persona she had displayed in the ballroom shattered in an instant. Her sobs grew louder, wracking her entire body as she clung to him like he was her anchor in a storm.

"I hate them," she whispered through her tears, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "I hate them so much, but it still hurts. It hurts so much, Lyle."

As if all the pain and feelings Ephyra had ever experienced in her life converged and hit her in full force.

He rested his chin gently on her head, his hand stroking her back in slow, soothing circles. "I know," he replied, his tone carrying an uncharacteristic tenderness. "They took everything from you. They broke you over and over again. But they can’t touch you anymore, Ephyra. They can’t hurt you again. I’ll make sure of it."

Ephyra pulled back slightly to look at him, her face streaked with tears. Her eyes searched his, looking for any trace of deceit or manipulation, but all she found was sincerity—a fierce, unwavering determination to protect her.

"Lyle..." she began, her voice trembling.

"You don’t have to say anything," he interrupted, brushing a tear away from her cheek with his thumb. "You don’t owe anyone an explanation—not even me. Just know that I’m here. Whatever you need, whatever you want—I’ll give it to you. For as long as you need."

For a moment, Ephyra didn’t respond. Her chest ached with a mixture of emotions she couldn’t fully comprehend. Lyle, the man who had been a storm of chaos in her life, was now offering her something she hadn’t realized she desperately needed: stability.

She nodded slowly, her fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lyle tilted her chin up, his eyes locking onto hers. "Ephyra," he said, his voice low but firm. "I don’t just say things to say them. When I promise something, I mean it. You’ll never have to face them—or anyone—alone again. Do you understand me?"

His words settled into her like a balm, soothing the raw edges of her pain. She nodded again, this time with a bit more certainty. "I understand."

He gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that softened the sharp angles of his face. "Good. Now, let’s get you out of here. You’ve had enough for one night."

Without another word, Lyle led her to the car, opening the door for her and ensuring she was settled before climbing in beside her. The ride back was quiet, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that felt suffocating. It was the type that was calming and lulled her into a deep sleep.