Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 134: A Fool

After Ephyra left, the hall was completely silent as there was nothing to be said. People glanced at each other, while some stared at the people on the stage and the duo below in disgust.

A murmur rippled through the crowd as the spell of silence finally broke, though no one dared to raise their voice too loudly. Those who had once stood beside Marianna, Myra, and Alan in their schemes now took deliberate steps away, as though proximity to them might taint their reputations further.

Below the stage, Marianna struggled to stand up, her tear-streaked face a mask of humiliation and fear. She reached out toward Eliot, her voice trembling. "Eliot, you can’t just let her leave like that! She’s ruining everything!"

Eliot, still stunned by Ephyra’s parting words, clenched his jaw and harshly tugged her hand off. "If you speak one more word, I swear I’m going to make you regret ever knowing me."

After that, he turned and walked toward the entrance. His once-proud demeanor had crumbled under the weight of his daughter’s revelations. He shifted uncomfortably under the judgmental stares of the guests.

Myra, who had remained silent throughout Ephyra’s speech, suddenly snapped, her voice shrill. "This isn’t over! You can’t just walk away like this! Father! Father, don’t go! Please don’t leave us! Forgive us—we were wrong! Father!" She turned to the crowd, her desperation evident. "You all saw what Ephyra did! She assaulted Alan! That’s illegal! She’s no better than us!"

But the guests did not rally to her defense. Instead, a few snickered, while others exchanged knowing glances. A tall man in a dark suit stepped forward, his voice carrying a quiet authority. "What’s illegal, Myra, is everything you, Marianna, and Alan have been exposed for tonight. If I were you, I’d worry less about Ephyra and more about the legal consequences heading your way."

Alan, still hunched on the floor, groaned as he attempted to sit up. His face was swollen, and his pride was shattered beyond repair. "She’s... she’s insane," he muttered weakly, his voice barely audible over the growing chatter in the room.

"She’s not insane," the man in the suit retorted sharply. "She’s just finally holding you accountable."

One by one, guests began to gather their belongings and leave, their expressions ranging from disdain to grim satisfaction. The glittering ballroom, once a place of luxury and illusion, now felt cold and empty, stripped of its grandeur.

Marianna, trembling, looked around desperately for an ally, but no one came to her aid.

Meanwhile, Leandra slowly walked toward Alan, who was already bloodied. She stopped by his legs and looked down at him, her expression blank.

When Alan saw his mom in front of him, he curled his fists and looked up at her with a mixture of desperation and shame. "Mom," he croaked, his voice weak, his pride broken.

Leandra’s lips tightened into a thin line as she crouched down to meet his gaze. Her once warm, maternal presence was replaced by cold indifference. "Mom?" she said, her tone sharp and cutting. "Alan, I’ve spent years nurturing you in the best environment filled with love and raising you to the best of my abilities. My hard work paid off. You were gifted, and soon, you became a genius. But suddenly, you changed and started doing things you normally wouldn’t do, like sneaking out, lying to me, and playing pranks. It all started when you met Ephyra’s step-sister. Gradually, you changed, but not completely. Still, I never imagined I’d see my son’s sex video brought to me by his ex-fiancée as leverage for a deal. The deal was to cut off your engagement and get both you and Myra engaged."

Leandra continued, her laugh cold and devoid of humor. "At that time, I didn’t understand why she would make such a deal. But now? Now, I understand perfectly."

Her eyes bore into Alan, filled with disappointment and a bitterness that made him shrink under her gaze. "You weren’t just careless—you were a fool. You allowed yourself to be manipulated, blinded by your arrogance and recklessness. You thought you were right, didn’t you? Everything Myra said was the truth, and whatever you did was justified, even though it was wrong. And you knew it, Alan—you knew it. But you still went ahead and did it." She shook her head. "I’m not saying I’m a saint, but I would never kick someone when they’re already down. You, however, believed every word Myra said and acted like a foolish dog. Where was my genius son when he was doing that?"

Alan flinched as her words hit him like a slap. "I—I’m sorry," he stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt.

"Sorry?" Leandra’s lips curled into a sneer as she stood, towering over him. "Do you even know what you’re sorry for? Is it for betraying the trust of those who cared for you? For tarnishing the family name I spent years building? Or is it simply because you’ve been caught and humiliated in front of all these people?" She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Because if it’s the latter, Alan, I don’t want your apology. It means nothing to me."

Alan flinched again, his shoulders hunching as if her words physically hurt him. "Mom, I didn’t know that everything was a lie. I was just—"

"You were just what?" Leandra interrupted, her voice rising. "Trying to prove something? Trying to impress someone? Tell me, Alan, was it worth it? Was it worth throwing away everything I worked so hard to give you? Was it worth humiliating this family? Destroying your own reputation?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but she raised a hand, cutting him off. Her expression softened for a fleeting moment, but it wasn’t out of pity—it was the calm before the storm.

"At that time, I couldn’t understand why Myra would go to such lengths—why she was so desperate to break your engagement with Ephyra and bind herself to you. But now," she chuckled darkly, shaking her head, "now it all makes sense. Myra didn’t love you, Alan. She used you. And you—" she jabbed a finger at him, her voice trembling with both fury and disappointment, "you were too arrogant, too foolish, to see it. You let her manipulate you into becoming her puppet. And for what? To stroke your ego? To prove your love for her? Look at yourself now."

Alan’s lips trembled, but no words came out. The weight of her words was suffocating, and he couldn’t find a way to defend himself.

Leandra’s gaze hardened further. "You’ve embarrassed me. You’ve embarrassed this family. But worst of all, you’ve betrayed yourself. You had everything, Alan—a family that loved you, opportunities others could only dream of, and the intelligence to achieve greatness. And yet, you threw it all away for fleeting pleasures and the empty promises of a girl who never cared about you." She glanced briefly at Myra, who shrank under her icy stare.

She stood up, towering over Alan as he sat slumped on the floor. "You want to apologize? Don’t say it to me. Say it to Ephyra. Say it to the people you hurt. But even then, don’t expect forgiveness. You’ve fallen too far, Alan, and I’m not sure you’ll ever be able to climb back up."

Alan’s voice cracked as he looked up at her, his face pale. "Mom, please, I can fix this—I’ll make it right—"

She shook her head, disappointment etched into every line of her face. "You may have been my son, Alan, but the person standing before me now? I don’t recognize him. And honestly, I’m not sure I want to."

She turned her back on him, her hands trembling slightly as she clenched them into fists. "Consider this the last time I’ll clean up after you, Alan. You’re on your own now. Whatever happens next... you’ll have to face it alone."

With that, she walked away, leaving Alan to sit there, broken and humiliated.

Alan sat frozen on the marble floor, the weight of his mother’s words suffocating him. He looked up at the vast, glittering chandelier above him—a stark contrast to the darkness consuming him. His trembling hands clutched at the polished surface beneath him as though grounding himself could undo the devastation.

Myra remained near the stage, her desperation turning into bitter frustration. Her voice broke the heavy silence that hung over the near-empty ballroom. "This isn’t fair!" she shrieked, her voice echoing eerily. "Why is everyone acting like she’s a saint? Ephyra is just as twisted as the rest of us!"

The few remaining onlookers exchanged glances but said nothing, their disapproval evident in their expressions.

The hall was nearly empty as everyone left one after the other, knowing that there was no need to formally end the event—it had already ended the moment Ephyra left. The room, once filled with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses, was now a hollow shell, its grandeur tainted by the night’s revelations.

Alan’s trembling hand wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, but he made no move to rise. He could feel the weight of his mistakes pressing down on him, suffocating him more than any physical pain ever could. His gaze flickered to Myra, who was still ranting incoherently, her desperation clawing at the air around her.

"Shut the hell up, Myra," Alan muttered hoarsely, his voice barely audible.

She spun to him, her eyes wild. "What did you say?"

"Shut up," he repeated, louder this time, his tone cutting through her hysteria. "You’ve done enough."

Myra froze, her mouth hanging open. For a moment, the fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something closer to fear. Alan’s expression was no longer desperate or pleading—it was empty, devoid of the arrogance that had once defined him.

He dragged himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily. The room spun around him, but he steadied himself against a nearby table. Without sparing another glance at Myra, Marianna, or anyone else, he began walking toward the exit. His steps were slow, heavy with defeat, and each one felt like an eternity.

The last remaining guests watched him go in silence. Some felt a pang of pity, while others could muster only disdain. No one reached out to stop him, and no one offered a word of comfort.

As Alan passed through the grand doors of the ballroom, the weight of the night finally crashed down on him. He didn’t know where he was going—he just needed to get away. From the judgment, from the shame, from the shattered pieces of the life he had destroyed with his own hands.