Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 68: Not Ephyra

They drove in silence, the tension between them on the edge of breaking. Myra crossed her arms, her nails digging into her palms as she stared out the window. She didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to give Alan the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he’d angered her. But the silence was suffocating, and her thoughts were a storm she couldn’t quiet.

"You’ve been staring at her a lot lately," Myra finally snapped, her voice low but laced with venom. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

Alan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, but he didn’t look at her. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Don’t play dumb with me," she shot back, her glare sharp enough to cut. "You think I don’t notice? The way you look at her?"

Alan’s jaw clenched. "You’re imagining things."

"Am I?" Myra challenged, leaning closer. "Well I don’t think I am because I’m not fucking blind!"

Alan’s silence was damning. Myra let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Do you actually still like her, huh? After everything? Answer me, Alan!"

Alan finally glanced at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You think everything revolves around you, Myra. That’s the real problem I have with you."

Her mouth fell open, stunned by the audacity of his words. "Excuse me?" She laughed, "You have a problem with me? Why didn’t you have a problem with me the night you fucked me or the morning after?! Fucking answer me, Alan!"

Alan’s face twisted with frustration as he hissed, "It was a mistake, damn it! And you know that, Myra. We were drunk—stop acting like I planned it. Besides," his voice dropped to a mocking lilt as he glanced at her, "weren’t you the one who convinced me to go to that damn hotel in the first place?"

"You’re blaming me now?!" Myra’s voice broke, her fists clenching at her sides. "Fuck you, Alan! You know damn well I didn’t want us to cross that line before our relationship was official! And now I might be pregnant with your child, and you’ve spent the past week ogling my bastard stepsister like she’s some lost love! Everyone must’ve noticed! We’re engaged, Alan! What do you think people are saying behind our backs?"

"I don’t care!" Alan bellowed, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "I don’t fucking care, Myra, because I have bigger problems right now!"

"Oh, really? Like what?" Myra challenged, leaning toward him, her voice cutting like glass.

Alan slammed on the brakes, pulling the car sharply to the side of the road. The sudden jolt knocked Myra against her seatbelt as he hit the steering wheel with his fist. "Shut up, damn it!"

"Don’t you dare tell me to shut up!" she shot back, "And don’t you dare tell me to! You’re hiding something, Alan. What is it? What aren’t you telling me?"

Alan stepped out of the car, slamming his door behind him. He paced furiously, one hand gripping his hip, the other dragging through his hair. Myra unbuckled her seatbelt and flung her door open. She stormed out of the car, leaving it ajar, and marched toward him.

She grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn and face her. "Tell me what’s going on, Alan. What are you hiding from me?"

Alan groaned, pulling away from her grip. "It’s... it’s crazy, Myra."

"Spit it out!" she demanded, her voice shaking with barely contained rage.

He exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging. "It’s... it’s about Ephyra."

Myra froze, her grip on his arm tightening. "Ephyra? What about her? Don’t tell me..." Her voice faltered as dread began to seep in. "Don’t tell me you still have feelings for her."

Alan shook his head vehemently. "No! Of course not. It’s not that. It’s... it’s something else entirely."

"Then what?" she demanded, her voice trembling. "What the hell is it?"

Alan hesitated, closing his eyes as if trying to summon the courage to speak. "I don’t think Ephyra survived the accident. I think... she died."

The words hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and ominous. Myra took a step back, her expression shifting from anger to disbelief. "What... what the hell are you saying?"

"I know how it sounds!" Alan said quickly, his voice pleading. "But I swear, Myra, the person who came back isn’t Ephyra. She looks like her, but she’s... not the same."

Myra shook her head, her voice trembling. "Why are you saying this? What makes you think that?"

Alan stepped closer, gripping her arms. "Do you remember before we went to that hotel? You told me Ephyra framed you, made your father punish you, and I promised to help you deal with her."

"Yes," Myra whispered, her breathing shallow. "What about it?"

"I kept my promise," Alan said grimly. "I sent a few guys after her. But the night of our engagement dinner, when I got back home, I found three of those men tied up, gagged, and beaten to a bloody pulp in the trunk of my car. Then this message came in."

He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. Myra’s hands trembled as she read the text from an unknown number:

Surprised, Alan? This is just a taste of what’s to come. Consider it a warning. Next time, you won’t be so lucky. Neither you nor your fiancée.

Her mouth went dry as she stared at the screen. "You think Ephyra sent this?"

"She admitted it," Alan said, his voice bitter. "And when I confronted her, I said something that pissed her off. She overpowered me, Myra. Pushed me against the wall and held me by the neck like it was nothing. I couldn’t fight back. She was... too strong."

Myra burst out laughing, the sound sharp and hollow. "You expect me to believe that? That Ephyra, my stepsister, did that to you? Overpowered you?"

Alan’s expression darkened. "I know how it sounds, but I’m not lying. The person living in your house isn’t Ephyra. You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you? The way she’s changed?"

Myra hesitated, her laughter faltering. She thought about the subtle shifts in Ephyra’s behavior since the accident—the calm detachment, the sharp intellect, the unnerving confidence. It wasn’t like her at all. "Even if what you’re saying is true," she said slowly, "what are you going to do about it?"

"I don’t know yet," Alan admitted. "But we need to be sure. We need to observe her—habits, quirks, anything that proves she’s not the real Ephyra. And you’re the only one who can do it, Myra. You live with her."

Myra stared at him, her stomach churning. "And what if you’re right? What happens then?"

Alan didn’t answer. Instead, he smiled faintly, leaning in to kiss her on the lips. "Thank you. Let’s go."

Without another word, he turned and walked back to the car. Myra followed, her thoughts a chaotic swirl as they drove towards her house.