Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 126: Pay

Ephyra’s grin widened her sharp wit gleaming in her expression. "You’re absolutely right. Let’s give the guests an unforgettable show: watching the sex video of the couple getting engaged."

Jania chuckled, her laughter low and knowing. "It will certainly stir the pot," she said, her voice laced with anticipation. Turning to one of the workers stationed nearby, she gestured subtly.

The worker gave a curt nod. "Right away, ma’am." He swiftly moved to a console tucked into the corner of the lounge. His fingers danced over the controls, his movements practiced and precise.

Ephyra turned her gaze back to Lyle, her composure as unshakable as ever. "Do you think they’ll enjoy the performance?" she asked, her tone almost playful.

Lyle’s lips curved into a faint, predatory smile. "Enjoy it? Perhaps not. But they’ll remember it. That’s what matters."

The soft hum of the hidden projector powering up filled the room, and Jania’s expression showed her anticipation. "It’s ready. Just say the word."

Ephyra glanced at the monitor where a paused frame of the compromising footage was displayed, the couple frozen mid-tryst. She tilted her head, studying the image. "Timing is everything," she mused, her voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of cold intent. "Let’s wait until their waltz ends. Let the applause die down. Then we’ll show them the start of our performance."

The lounge fell into a brief silence, the faint sounds of the orchestra and muffled applause filtering through the closed doors. Then, as the final note of the waltz drifted into the air, Ephyra straightened. Her movements were deliberate as she stepped forward, her fingers brushing over the edge of the console.

"Now," she said simply, her voice steady.

The worker pressed a button, and the ballroom’s large screens, which had been cycling through harmless promotional slides, abruptly switched to the explicit footage. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as the video began to play, it’s undeniable clarity leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Back in the lounge, Jania arched a brow. "Well, that certainly woke them up."

Ephyra’s smile was razor-sharp as she turned away from the screen, her heels clicking against the polished floor. "Let them choke on their perfect fairy tale," she said coolly, heading toward the stage with her mask on her face.

The ballroom erupted into chaos. Gasps gave way to shouts, conversations turned frantic, and guests scrambled to process what was unfolding on the massive screens. The waltz had come to a screeching halt, Alan and Myra frozen in place as the damning footage played above them, their carefully constructed engagement crumbling in real-time.

Ephyra emerged from the corridor with an unhurried grace, her expression serene amidst the storm she had unleashed. The soft glow of the chandeliers cast a golden light on her as she approached the edge of the stage, her every step commanding attention.

The murmurs in the room grew louder as eyes shifted from the screens to her, realizing she wasn’t just another guest.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ephyra began, her voice cutting through the noise with clarity. She glanced toward the screens briefly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as the footage continued to play behind her. "It seems we’ve encountered a...technical difficulty. Or, perhaps, a moment of unfiltered truth. I will let you all decide after you finish watching it-"

"How dare you?! Who are you?! Turn off that thing and get off that stage! You–"

"I suggest you calm the hell down, Marianna, or should I call you, stepmother?"

"Wha– Ephyra? You bitc–"

"Suprised? You shouldn’t be. After all, Marianna, isn’t it your habit to craft illusions of grandeur while keeping skeletons in your closet? Which you happen to have a lot of very ugly ones." Ephyra’s voice was laced with icy disdain as she met her stepmother’s incredulous glare. "Unfortunately for you, I specialize in breaking illusions."

The room fell silent, save for the lingering echoes of Marianna’s gasp and the damning footage still playing on the screens. The weight of the scandal pressed down on everyone present, their shocked expressions proof of the social carnage unfolding before them.

Alan, pale and visibly shaken, took a step toward Ephyra. "Ephyra, stop this. Whatever your grudge is, this is going too far."

She raised a brow, her calm demeanor unbroken. "Too far? Alan, dear ex-fiance, you reaped what you sowed. The public humiliation, the perfect image shattered—it’s nothing compared to what your actions deserve. But don’t worry, I will definitely make sure every one of you regrets and pay for everything they did to Ephyra who died in that car accident that night."

Myra, trembling and clutching Alan’s arm, spat out, "You’re just jealous! Bitter that your father chose us over you. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? And just shut the fuck up! You keep talking as if we killed you and we fucking didn’t! You also didn’t DIE, okay?!"

Ephyra’s smirk widened, her voice like velvet. "Jealousy? Myra, you give yourself far too much credit. This isn’t about wanting what you have. It’s about exposing who you truly are—a liar, a manipulator, and how dare you even say I didn’t die? Tell me, am I the same Ephyra before the accident? Am I? I am not! Why? Because she fucking died that night and you, Myra were the sole cause of her death. And trust me, you will definitely pay for it." she smirked, turning to the screen. "Starting from now."

As the scandalous footage played on, the room was struck with a deafening silence, broken only by the audio from the screen. The voices, though scattered and distorted by heavy breathing and muffled laughter, were unmistakable.

A female voice rang out with venomous disdain:

Her words were venomous. "Ever since her accident, she’s been different. Sometimes I want to strangle her, to watch the light fade from her eyes. I want to destroy her, make her suffer like I have."

The room collectively stiffened, shocked murmurs spreading like wildfire. Before anyone could fully register what was happening, the male voice responded, dripping with cruelty:

"Alan grinned darkly, brushing a kiss over her lips. "If you want her gone, have someone else do it. Don’t dirty your hands."

Myra’s nails scraped down his back as he increased his pace, her moans blending with his heavy breathing. "We tried that already. My mother hired someone from the black market, but somehow... somehow, that wench survived."

Alan chuckled, his voice a low rumble. "Maybe she just got lucky.

"Lucky," Myra hissed, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts.

The footage continued, showing more of their intimate betrayal, but the words struck deeper than the images. Myra’s face turned ashen, her trembling lips parting in horror as the implications sank in.

Most of the guests, parents, students, businessmen, and socialites stood frozen, their gazes shifting from the damning footage to Myra and Alan. Whispers turned into gasps, and gasps into hushed accusations as the truth unraveled before their very eyes.

Alan stepped forward, his composure slipping as he raised his voice over the chaos. "Turn it off! This is a violation of privacy! You’ll regret this, Ephyra!"

Ephyra turned toward him, her expression a chilling mix of amusement and disdain. "Privacy? Regret?" Her tone dripped with mockery. "You destroyed any concept of privacy or decency when you plotted against me. You deserve no mercy, no shield from the truth. Regret, however..." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Yes, Alan, you will regret ever crossing me."

Myra, now visibly trembling, grabbed Alan’s arm. "Do something! Stop her!" she shrieked, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear.