Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 61: Memories

Fucking bitch!

Eira cursed in her mind as she breathed heavily, fury rising with each passing second. Her hands clenched into fists as the puzzle pieces began to click into place. That was why Ephyra’s memories were so distorted, and why Eira had gotten little to no recollection of Ephyra’s childhood. But now, she remembered—though not everything.

Those witches. They’d not only inflicted physical pain on Ephyra but also mental torment. The level of pain the little girl had endured was simply too much.

What enraged her even more was that she recognized exactly what those drugs were and what they did.

The one that caused pain was a type of cytotoxic agent used in chemotherapy, which induces nerve pain, while the one that made her lose her memories was benzodiazepines.

Eira’s chest burned—not from pain, but from a wave of anger so consuming it felt like fire coursing through her veins. She threw the covers off her body and glanced toward the wardrobe, where the hidden safe remained untouched. Elara’s diaries.

Eira knew that if she wanted to confirm whether everything she had dreamt of wasn’t simply a dream but truly Ephyra’s lost memories, she needed to see the safe her mother had left behind. Especially the diaries and the blue, glass-like folder. Whatever secrets they contained could hold the key to unraveling the truth of Ephyra’s childhood and Elara’s life.

Sliding out of bed, Eira turned on the light and padded quietly toward the wardrobe. The room was silent except for the faint rustling of her clothes as she reached it and crouched down. She grasped the handle and opened the lower compartment of the wardrobe. Pushing aside the neatly folded dresses, she revealed an inconspicuous black knob at the far end.

It wasn’t a dream. These really were Ephyra’s sealed memories.

Eira’s heartbeat sped up as she slowly extended her hand, placed it on the knob, and exerted force—which wasn’t even necessary. As soon as her hand touched it, the knob seemed to recognize her, and the hidden compartment slid open, revealing the safe. Leaning forward, Eira pressed the same set of numbers Ephyra used to unlock it.

The next moment, the safe opened with a soft click, revealing its contents exactly as Ephyra had left them.

A sudden, vivid memory crashed into Eira’s mind like a tidal wave. It was Marianna’s voice—laden with fury—yelling at a teenage Ephyra. The scene unfolded with startling clarity: Ephyra, timid and trembling, stood frozen as Marianna towered over her.

"You dared to speak to Alan behind Myra’s back?!" Marianna’s voice lashed like a whip, her face twisted in anger.

Ephyra stammered, her hands shaking as she tried to explain, "I-I wasn’t—Myra misunderstood. I wasn’t trying to—"

"Shut up!" Marianna’s hand flew through the air, striking Ephyra across the face with a force that sent her crumpling to the floor. The sting of the slap burned, but it was the venom in Marianna’s words that cut deeper.

"You’re just like your annoying mother," Marianna hissed, grabbing Ephyra by the wrist with a bruising grip. "You need to be taught a lesson before you forget your place again—or better yet, gotten rid of!"

Tears streamed down Ephyra’s face as Marianna dragged her through the house like a ragdoll, ignoring her pleas for mercy. They stopped at the laundry room, and Ephyra’s stomach sank as she saw Marianna plug in the iron.

"No, please! I won’t do it again! I swear—"

"You’re right. You won’t," Marianna said coldly, her lips curling into a cruel smirk.

The iron glowed ominously as it heated up. Ephyra’s cries grew desperate, her struggles futile against Marianna’s grip. Without hesitation, Marianna grabbed Ephyra’s hand and pressed the scorching iron against her palm.

A scream tore from Ephyra’s throat, the searing pain unbearable. Marianna released her hand only to repeat the cruel act once more.

"This is what happens when you disobey me or Myra," Marianna said, her voice void of emotion. "Next time, you’ll think twice."

With that, she unplugged the iron, her cold gaze locking on Ephyra’s tear-streaked face. "Reflect on yourself. And don’t even think of stepping out of line again."

Marianna turned and walked out, locking the door behind her. Ephyra collapsed to the floor, cradling her burned hand, her sobs muffled by the silence of the laundry room.

The memory faded, but the emotions it brought lingered. Eira’s body trembled—not from fear, but from a fury so raw and consuming that it felt as if her very blood had turned to molten lava.

Her fists clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms as her breathing grew ragged. The anger she had felt earlier was nothing compared to this. Marianna hadn’t just hurt Ephyra; she had broken her piece by piece, then erased the memory. But even though the memory was gone, its effects couldn’t be erased.

You vile, heartless bitch. The words echoed in Eira’s mind, the depth of her hatred for Marianna immeasurable. She wanted nothing more than to make Marianna suffer a thousandfold for the torment she had inflicted on Ephyra.

Just then, the shrill ring of her phone pierced the silence, jolting her out of her rage-filled trance. The sound was jarring, cutting through the oppressive tension in the room.

Eira turned toward the phone, her jaw tight and her eyes blazing with determination. Whoever was on the other end of that line was about to meet a version of her they wouldn’t soon forget.

She stood up and marched toward the nightstand, where her phone screen lit up, showing a series of numbers she didn’t recognize. Her anger simmered just beneath the surface as she snatched the phone off the table and pressed the answer button.

"Who the fuck is this?" she demanded, her voice low and cold, each word dripping with impatience.

There was a pause, followed by a low, very familiar voice.

"Ephyra." The voice was low and restrained, but for an unknown reason, it was soothing.

Eira froze, caught off guard. Then her brows furrowed. freewebnσvel.cѳm

"Lyle?" Her voice was equally low, filled with surprise and uncertainty. She didn’t realize this was the first time she had called his name in such a way.

"Close your eyes."

The tension in the air thickened as Eira clutched the phone tighter, her chest rising and falling with each sharp intake of breath. Lyle’s voice—calm and commanding, yet strangely comforting—sent a chill down her spine.

"What?"

"Close your eyes, Ephyra," he repeated, his tone unwavering.

Ephyra wanted to refuse but hesitated. She didn’t understand what Lyle was doing, her mind warring between defiance and curiosity. But something about the way Lyle spoke—the steadiness, the quiet strength—made her falter. Against her better judgment, she closed her eyes.

"Now, breathe," Lyle instructed, his voice softer this time, almost a whisper. "Focus on the sound of my voice. Forget the anger, the pain... just for a moment."

Eira did as he said, and surprisingly... the tension in her body began to ease. The fire raging within her chest dimmed slightly, replaced by a strange, unfamiliar calm. The sound of Lyle’s voice—steady and measured—was like a balm to her frayed nerves.

Time passed, and Eira opened her eyes, though she didn’t say a word. Finally, she murmured, "Thank you."

No response came from the other side.

Eira didn’t think much of it and asked, "How did you know?"

No response.

"Is it the same way my scent soothes you?" she asked again, and this time, she received a response.

Lyle, who was standing on the balcony of his room, gripping the railing until it bent into an unnatural shape, replied, "Yes."

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lyle’s silence stretched across the line, and for a moment, Eira thought he wouldn’t answer. But when he did, his words were deliberate. "I don’t have the answer to that question."

Eira moved and sat on the bed. "I see. You’re very mysterious, and I won’t lie—I badly want to know what you are and what you’re hiding."

Lyle didn’t respond to her words. Instead, he asked a question. "What happened?"

Eira’s lips curved up, though her eyes reflected anger. "My memories were sealed by my stepmother. I just remembered them."

"And what do you want to do?"

"I want to kill them, tear them to pieces with my hands."

Lyle’s voice remained calm, as if he had expected her answer. "And you will. It’s just a matter of time."

Eira smiled at his words. "You’re right—it’s just a matter of time."

Then they both went quiet.

"Surprisingly, I feel calm."

"That’s good."

"Thank you."

"Mm."

"Right. Jania told me to tell you that—" She paused, then changed her mind. "You know what? Scratch that. I want the banquet to happen after my final exams. I think it’s better that way, right?"

There was silence for some time before Lyle finally responded. "If that’s what you want."

"I want everything to be perfect."

"It will be," he continued. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

As the call ended, Eira stared at her phone, her expression unreadable. Lyle’s words echoed in her mind, a strange reassurance threading through the remnants of her anger. She placed the phone back on the table and leaned against the headboard.

The safe was still open, its contents waiting for her attention.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself off the bed and returned to the safe. Her fingers brushed over the familiar leather-bound diaries and the blue, glass-like folder.

The sight of the blue, glass-like folder was mesmerizing, glowing faintly under the light. Eira’s fingers hovered over it for a moment before she decided to pick up one of the diaries first—the one labeled Elara.

The leather was soft with age, the corners frayed. As she opened the diary, the scent of faded ink and pressed flowers filled the air. The first few pages were written in Elara’s elegant script, her handwriting fluid yet firm.

"To my dearest Ephyra," the entry began. "If you are reading this, it means I am no longer with you. But my love, I have left you these pieces of my life, of our family’s truths, to guide you. You may not understand everything now, but you will, in time. Be strong, my darling, for the path you walk will not be easy."

After reading this, only one thought was in her mind:

Who exactly was Ephyra’s mother?