Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 48: Overkill

"Fuck!" He ruffled his hair and hurriedly moved to look for his underwear. Once he found it by the edge of the bed, he paused, staring blankly as memories from the previous night drifted through his mind in fragments, blurry and disjointed. then it was blank. His head pounded, throbbing with the remnants of something strange. Something felt... wrong. Why couldn’t he remember anything clearly?

He slipped on his underwear, his heart racing as guilt and confusion mingled. His mind flashed to Myra’s accusations, her angry eyes, and his chest tightened with dread.

He made his way to the bathroom and banged on the door. "Myra, please, open up! Let’s talk about this!" His voice was tinged with desperation, his fists thudding heavily against the wood.

Inside, Myra splashed cold water on her face, trying to steady her breathing. Her reflection in the mirror stared back, wild-eyed and filled with rage. How could she have let this happen? The anger, confusion, and betrayal mingled, twisting inside her.

"Go away, Alan!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the tiles. "I don’t want to see your face!"

Alan’s mind raced. He couldn’t remember anything after the first few drinks with her, and the more he tried, the more his head throbbed painfully, clouding his thoughts. He was utterly lost, but he knew he needed to get through to her, to at least understand what had happened.

"Myra, listen, please. I swear, I don’t remember any of this. Something feels off... like we were both... I don’t know." He pressed his forehead against the door, frustrated and panicked. "Just let me explain—"

"Explain?" Her laugh was harsh. "Explain how you managed to do exactly what you’ve always wanted to do? It all makes sense now, Alan. I trusted you!"

"Myra, listen to me. I don’t know what happened, but I need you to know... I would never do this to you. Never. Maybe we drank too much of the wine, and we lost our inhibitions a-and..."

"Just shut up, Alan! And leave me alone!" Myra yelled as she threw off the things she had grabbed from the counter, sending a few bottles clattering to the floor. Her breathing was uneven. She stared at herself in the mirror, her hands gripping the edge of the sink so tightly her knuckles turned white. How had she let this happen?! How?!

She shook her head. This wasn’t the plan! This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! She was supposed to make Alan break off his engagement with Ephyra and then get engaged to her by using the love and desire he had for her as a means to manipulate him.

Myra’s plan was to be officially recognized by everyone as Alan’s lover, gaining the status she wanted. This wasn’t supposed to happen! This weekend was supposed to deepen their relationship, to make him realize he couldn’t live without her, that she was the one he truly wanted. But this? This was a disaster.

She took a shuddering breath, her gaze hardening as she looked at her reflection. No, she wouldn’t let this ruin her plan. She’d find a way to twist this to her advantage. If she played her cards right, she could still use this night to strengthen her hold on Alan. Maybe she could even make him feel responsible, guilty enough to do whatever she wanted.

She opened the bathroom door, finding Alan pacing outside, looking both desperate and distressed. His eyes lit up with relief when he saw her, but she quickly shut that down with a cold glare.

Then she suddenly realized they couldn’t have used protection during that wild, hazy night. Panic tightened her chest as she realized the possible consequences of what they’d done.

"Alan... I just... I feel so used," she whispered, her voice trembling. She needed to make him feel as guilty and desperate as possible.

Alan’s shoulders slumped, his face filled with shame and regret. "Myra, I swear, I’d never hurt you like this. If... if there’s anything I can do to make this right..."

Myra took a shaky breath, allowing her voice to quiver. "Alan, I... don’t think you used protection..."

"W-what?" Alan’s face went pale as he processed her words, the full weight of the night’s possible consequences dawning on him. "Myra, if... if that’s the case, I’ll be here for you. I’ll support you no matter what—" freewёbnoνel.com

Myra shook her head. "Just get me the morning-after pills."

Alan nodded, scrambling to find his phone to locate the nearest pharmacy.

Myra watched him from the doorway, hiding a smirk behind her mask of vulnerability. She had him exactly where she wanted him—guilty, desperate, and terrified. This wasn’t what she’d planned, but maybe it could still work in her favor. If he felt responsible enough, maybe he’d be willing to take the relationship where she wanted it to be. And if he thought he might have accidentally fathered a child... well, that would bind him to her even tighter.

As he dialed the pharmacy, she took a deep breath and forced a tear down her cheek, her expression softening just enough to play the part.

Alan finished the call and turned to her, his face filled with remorse. "Myra, I promise... I’ll do anything you need. I’ll make this right."

She sighed, looking down at the floor. "I just... I don’t know, Alan. This wasn’t supposed to happen, and I trusted you." She let her voice waver, her fingers brushing the tear away delicately.

"I know," he whispered, stepping closer but hesitant to touch her. "Please, just let me fix this. Let me be there for you."

She nodded slowly, seemingly hesitant but allowing him to take her hand. "Maybe... maybe we can talk about it later," she said, giving him a tiny glimmer of hope. "Right now, I just... I need space."

Alan looked heartbroken, but he nodded. "Whatever you need, Myra."

As he left to get the pills, Myra shut the bathroom door, her mask slipping as she looked at herself in the mirror. A triumphant smile tugged on her lips.

••

Leandra stepped away from the stairs and made her way to the living room with high walls and a ceiling that hung a majestic chandelier. She sat down on one of the chairs and a maid brought her a cup of tea. She collected it with a nod and took a sip as the maid bowed and retreated.

Since it was a weekend, Leandra didn’t have any formal business to take care of so she was dressed in a simple, long, one-piece black dress. Crossing her legs, she leaned back and picked up her phone.

Just as she turned it on, she saw a message that got her attention, making her frown.

Unknown: As a mother, there are a lot of things you don’t know about your son. This is one of them and I’m just letting you know. No need to thank me.

She sat up and tapped on it to see a video followed by another message: What would you rate this, Leandra?

Feeling apprehensive, she played the video and the things she watched made her expression shift from surprise to disbelief, to horror, disgust, disappointment and anger and lastly, fear.

She scrolled down to see another message.

If you want this to remain between us, then reserve a room in an exclusive restaurant you’ve never used before and send me the address by 1 pm. I would love to try out my new clothes. Oh, and don’t try to act smart, okay? No unwanted guests.

Leandra’s grip on her phone tightened to the point where her knuckles turned white. Her mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions. How could this be happening? Her son, involved in something so reckless, so scandalous—it was unfathomable. She had worked tirelessly to cultivate the perfect image, to secure their family’s place among the elite. Now, one reckless night threatened to destroy everything.

With a deep breath, Leandra composed herself, setting down her tea as she considered her options. Whoever had sent the message knew exactly what they were doing. She couldn’t risk a public confrontation, nor could she afford to let this stranger dangle this over her head. If this got out... her family’s reputation would be shattered.

She tapped and dialed Alan’s number and after numerous rings, he didn’t pick up. She tried, again and again, trying to be patient and keep her anger in but she still got the same results.

"Argh!" she swept the cup of tea off the table as it shattered against the polished floor, the tea spilling on the pristine floor. Her frustration simmered, but she forced herself to take a steadying breath, her mind racing through a thousand different outcomes. She couldn’t allow this scandal to surface. Not now, not ever.

She glanced at the time. It was nearing noon. That left her less than an hour to arrange everything and avoid any slip-ups that could tip her hand. This person wanted control, and leverage, and as much as she hated to admit it, they had succeeded in placing her on edge.

Leandra took a deep, steadying breath and picked up her phone. She texted her assistant to reserve a private room at a discreet location. It would be a small, exclusive restaurant, one she’d never publicly patronized before, ensuring they wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention. She hoped the gesture would be enough to meet her anonymous tormentor’s demands.

After a few minutes, her assistant messaged back, confirming the reservation. Leandra replied with a simple "thank you" and forwarded the details to the unknown sender.

The response was immediate: "See you at 1 pm. Don’t be late."

Leandra set her phone down and went to get dressed.

••

Eira opened the car door and stepped out. Miles and Reed, her two guards, had already exited.

"Do you want us to follow you in?" Reed, the driver, asked as she slipped on her cropped denim jacket with an oversized, boxy fit, detailed with large front pockets over the fitted white crop top underneath.

Eira looked at the building in front of her and smiled. "No need, that would be overkill."

"All right, call us if you need anything," Miles said as she walked away from them.

Eira took a step inside, glancing around at the restaurant’s polished elegance. Dark wooden walls with gold accents created a warm atmosphere, and soft amber lights illuminated the space, casting gentle shadows on the high-end decor. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and a faint hint of lavender hung in the air, blending harmoniously with the quiet clinking of silverware and hushed conversations.

A staff member in a crisp black uniform approached her with a polite smile. "Good afternoon, miss. How may I assist you?"

Eira’s expression remained neutral, her voice smooth as she replied, "I’m here to meet someone. There should be a reservation under the name Leandra Rio."

The staff member gave a respectful nod, gesturing for her to follow. "Of course. Please allow me to confirm that for you." He guided her to another attendant at the reservations desk, who scanned through the list, her fingers gliding across the screen. After locating the name, she looked up at Eira with a polite smile.

"Thank you for your patience, miss. I’ll have one of our waiters escort you to the reserved room."

Eira offered a brief smile in return. "Appreciate it."

A waiter stepped forward and motioned for her to follow. As they ascended a flight of stairs to the second floor, Eira took in the intricate designs etched into the banister and the chandeliers overhead, each detail adding to the ambiance of the exclusive venue.

At the end of a quiet hallway, the waiter paused before a door, turning to Eira with a courteous bow. "This is the room, miss."

He opened the door, and Eira stepped inside, taking in the spacious yet private setup, complete with velvet-lined seats and a tastefully arranged centerpiece on the table. Her gaze flicked to the figure sitting by the far window, watching her arrival.

Leandra sat with her posture impeccably straight, an air of impatience lingering around her. She’d been waiting nearly fifteen minutes, and her expression grew colder as she observed the young woman who had entered. Dressed in a cropped denim jacket with oversized pockets, wide-legged pants with multiple compartments, and white sneakers, Eira’s style was strikingly casual for such a formal setting. Her red hair was styled half-up, half-down, with two curled tendrils framing her face and highlighting her piercing light blue eyes.

As Leandra’s gaze stopped on her face, a flicker of surprise crossed her features before quickly hardening. The video and messages replayed in her mind, reminding her of the reason for this unexpected meeting.

"Ephyra Allen?" she asked, her tone clipped, her eyes narrowing.

Eira smirked, raising a hand in a mock wave. "Glad you could recognize me, Leandra." Her tone dripped with sarcasm as she stared down at the woman, who was trying not to let her expression falter.

Eira could understand. How would Leandra have imagined that the spineless, weak, and lovestruck Ephyra she once knew would be the same person she was meeting today?