Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 44: Package

"Thank you, Dad! Thank you so much!" Myra’s voice rang with excitement as she hugged Eliot, her face lighting up with a wide smile. "I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. I won’t do anything to hurt Ephyra or mistreat her. I’ll listen to you and be the perfect daughter, I promise."

Eliot looked down at her and nodded thoughtfully. "If you truly understand the harm you caused, then you’ll need to apologize to the one you hurt—but not now. Once your punishment is over, you should make a sincere apology to Ephyra and acknowledge her as your sister. Remember, it was her who asked me to reduce your punishment. She’s the reason you’re getting your devices back, so make sure you show your gratitude, okay?"

Myra stepped back and smiled brightly. "I promise I will, Dad."

Watching from the top of the stairs, Eira smirked before turning away and slipping back to her room. She closed the door, settled into her desk chair, and opened her laptop, plugging in her earphones.

"[Master, are you ready?]" her AI assistant’s voice chimed in with anticipation.

Eira leaned back, crossing her legs on the desk. "[Yes.]"

"[I’ll start transmitting and recording once they begin talking,]" the AI confirmed.

Meanwhile, in her own room, Myra had just sent her mom away, saying she wanted to talk to Alan. As soon as her mother left, Myra unlocked her phone, revealing a flood of notifications—missed calls, messages, and alerts from all her social media accounts. Her gaze zeroed in on one contact: a name followed by a red heart and an exclamation mark.

Seeing nearly twenty missed calls and countless messages from him, Myra smiled, then quickly tapped his name and brought her phone to her ear.

In a modern European-style mansion with classic elegance blended into sleek design, the exterior featured pale stone facades, large arched windows, and intricate wrought-iron railings around each balcony. Marble pillars supported a grand entrance, hinting at the opulence within.

The spacious grounds extended to a sprawling, manicured lawn where a gazebo stood—a masterpiece adorned with soft, flowing white curtains draping from its pillars. Verdant vines and twinkling fairy lights wove through the structure, casting a warm glow in the evening breeze.

Under the gazebo’s canopy, a long dining table stretched out, draped in an immaculate white cloth. It was elegantly set with fine tableware, silver cutlery, and crystal wine glasses, with tall flower vases and flickering candles in glass holders as centerpieces. Each of the twenty-plus chairs had a soft, upholstered seat, filled by members of the Latham family, with the patriarch, Adam Latham, sitting at the head. To his right, the chair for his eldest son, Milo, was occupied by Milo’s wife, Leandra, while her children sat beside her. On Adam’s left were his other children and their families.

Beyond the gazebo, a large pool shimmered in opalescent blue, surrounded by sleek stone tiles. Water jets arced gracefully into the pool, creating gentle ripples in the fading light.

The family admired this beautiful setting as they ate, with some chattering about business, others speaking in hushed, envious tones about Leandra’s meticulous preparations, and still others discussing the patriarch’s favoritism towards Alan, Leandra’s second son, whom he saw as the family’s prodigy and the key to restoring their legacy in medicine.

"Hmph, as if all this grandeur can mask her true intentions," whispered Gloria, Adam’s third daughter, to her husband beside her. Her gaze narrowed as she took in the scene, eyes flitting over Leandra’s perfectly dressed figure. "She’s just trying to keep herself in Adam’s good graces, making everything appear flawless." freewebnσvel.cøm

"She’s definitely doing it for Milo," her husband murmured, smirking as he reached for his glass. "With him absent for so many of these dinners, it’s her way of making sure the family doesn’t forget him."

"As if all the praise heaped on Alan will make him into the miracle they think he is," scoffed another one of Adam Latham’s younger children, his voice just low enough not to draw attention but still audible to those nearest him. His wife, seated beside him, quickly touched his arm, urging him to lower his voice.

"Careful, love," she murmured, glancing around to make sure none of the family members, especially Adam, were listening. "You know how Father can be about Alan. Criticizing him won’t help us."

But her husband shook his head in frustration. "It’s just so ridiculous. This endless competition, the favoritism – it’s like he doesn’t even see the rest of us."

Meanwhile, Leandra, at the other end of the table, held herself with quiet composure, every bit the elegant hostess. She heard the whispers, the glances, and even the envy from the other side of the table, but she ignored it all with practiced grace. She smiled and responded warmly to each family member. Her children – especially Alan – were her pride, and she would do whatever it took to ensure they had every advantage.

As the dinner wore on, Alan sat with a calm, indifferent expression, splitting his attention between his siblings’ chatter and his grandfather’s questions. He was accustomed to the family’s mixed feelings—admiration tinged with envy and doubt. It didn’t bother him; he was focused on his own path, one that was already set.

Just as the tension reached its peak, Adam cleared his throat, silencing the table. All eyes turned to him as he raised his glass, his steady voice carrying across the gathering. "To family—may we continue to support each other and grow stronger together."

Gloria’s husband barely suppressed a scoff, but Leandra noticed. Smiling, she raised her glass to join the toast, well aware that her husband’s absence fueled the whispers around the table.

As the glasses clinked, Alan slipped away, taking his ringing phone with him to the lawn’s edge. Answering, his voice softened as he spoke.

""Myra? Is that you?"

Myra’s voice came through softly, "Alan..."

"Myra, I’ve been trying to reach you. I was so worried—I even asked Ephyra, and she said you were being punished. What happened?"

A moment of silence followed before quiet sobs filled the line.

"Myra, stop crying. What’s wrong? Just talk to me."

"It’s... It’s Ephyra," she managed between sobs. "She lied about me to Dad, and he believed her. I was punished, locked in my room, my devices confiscated. I begged him, but he wouldn’t listen... Alan, it was so unfair."

As Myra’s words sunk in, Alan’s expression grew dark. "Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now. Don’t cry."

He paused, his voice steady but low with anger. "I’m coming over—"

"No, Alan, don’t. My punishment ends this weekend, and we can see each other then. If you come now, Dad would question why. It’s better to wait."

Reluctantly, Alan agreed, but his tone remained protective. "Alright. Did Ephyra do anything else?"

"No, aside from coming to my room just to insult me—and you."

Alan’s voice softened. "I promise, this won’t happen again. I’ll make sure of it." He hesitated, then added, "And I’ll convince Mom to end the engagement between her and me. I’ll see you Saturday. I love you."

"I love you too." Myra ended the call, satisfaction lighting up her expression.

Ephyra, did you really think you wouldn’t pay for what you did? she thought with a smirk.

After setting her phone on the nightstand, Myra went to shower, then returned in a silk nightgown and settled into bed.

Her phone suddenly rang, displaying an unknown number. She declined the call, but it rang again. Scowling, she answered.

"Who the hell this—"

"Hello, Miss Myra Allen. I’m Celine, an employee of Royal Luxuries Hotel. Congratulations! You’ve been selected for an exclusive three-day couples’ event, where you’ll enjoy a luxurious stay and romantic activities, all on us. This special event is for a few lucky clients who expressed interest in our Valentine’s package."

"What? Are you—"

"You can confirm the event details and my number on our website. Tomorrow, you’ll receive an exclusive package from the hotel. Goodnight, ma’am."

The call ended, leaving Myra staring at her phone in bewilderment.

Eira pulled her earphones out, stretched with a yawn, and stood up. "That took longer than I thought."

"[You should go to bed, Master,]" her AI chimed.

"Yeah, I will. Just need to call Jania first," she replied, grabbing her phone. "Thanks, by the way."

"[You’re welcome, Master.]"

Eira called Jania, who answered with a laugh, "Ephyra, all done?"

Eira stifled a yawn. "Yeah, it’s set. Make sure they’re all here when I get back from school tomorrow."

"Alright."

"Thank you."

Jania chuckled. "Just make sure to tell me everything—I’m dying to know what you’re planning."

Eira laughed. "It’s nothing big, but I’ll keep you updated every step of the way."

The next day, at exactly 5 pm, the doorbell rang at the Allen family mansion. Myra, holed up in her room all day unconsciously waiting for the package hurriedly went to answer it. She found a uniformed delivery person holding a sleek, gold-embossed black box.

"For Miss Myra Allen," he said, handing her a signature pad.

Surprised, Myra signed and accepted the box, curiosity overtaking her frustration. She hurried to her room, shut the door, and opened the lid to find an intricately designed invitation card resting atop layers of delicate gold tissue paper.

"Royal Luxuries Hotel cordially invites you to a weekend of romance, relaxation, and exclusive experiences," the card read in elegant script. A brochure detailed the luxurious itinerary planned for her stay. Myra’s eyes sparkled with excitement—dinners, spa treatments, private entertainment—all expenses covered.

But she frowned, realizing she’d have to convince her father to let her go. With a scheming smile, she picked up her phone, already planning her approach.

Meanwhile, Eira walked out of her school building, glancing at her phone as she dialed Jania.

"They got the package?" she asked, suppressing a smirk.

"Oh, yes," Jania replied, sounding amused. "Your sister seemed thrilled. I imagine she’s already working on a way to convince your father."

Eira chuckled, feeling a sense of satisfaction. "Good. Make sure that every detail goes as planned."

"Don’t worry. We’ve handled everything down to the last thread."