Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 146: Cage

They ate and chatted, the conversation shifting between lighthearted jokes and unspoken reassurances. The tension from earlier had eased, replaced by the familiar comfort of old friendships. Before they knew it, noon had arrived, and they found themselves standing beside their cars, the warmth of the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement.

Malia leaned against her car, arms crossed. "So, what’s next for you? Where are you staying? You didn’t go back to your father’s house, did you?"

Ephyra shook her head. "No, I didn’t. I’m staying with an old friend."

Cyran’s brows furrowed slightly. "An old friend?"

"Do you know them well?" Malia added, her voice laced with concern. "I mean, are you close?"

Before Ephyra could respond, Orla cut in, her tone practical. "You could stay with us if you want. Or, if you prefer, my mom can set up an apartment for you."

Malia nodded eagerly. "Yes! Mom wouldn’t mind at all—"

Ephyra raised a hand, stopping her before she could finish. "I appreciate the offer, really. But I trust them. We’ve known each other for a long time, and we’re very close—like family. So there’s no need to worry."

Malia blinked, as if processing the words. "Oh."

Ephyra offered a small smile. "But thank you. It means a lot."

Cyran shook his head, smirking. "No need to thank us."

"Yeah," Malia pouted. "Why the hell are you acting like we did something big?"

Ephyra grinned and spread her arms. "Group hug?"

Malia wasted no time, throwing her arms around Ephyra. Cyran followed with a chuckle, while Orla, ever reluctant, rolled her eyes. Malia huffed and grabbed her arm, dragging her into the embrace.

They stood like that for a few seconds before pulling away.

Ephyra took a step back, tilting her head. "I have to go. See you soon?"

"Definitely," Malia laughed, waving enthusiastically. "Bye!"

Orla muttered a quiet "Bye," while Cyran gave her a nod. "Take care."

Ephyra opened the car door, pausing for a moment to glance at them one last time. "Bye, guys."

With that, she got in and drove off.

Miles glanced at Ephyra through the rearview mirror. "To the Allen Mansion, Miss Ephyra?"

Ephyra didn’t take her eyes off the window. "Yes. I need to get the rest of my things. I don’t feel like leaving them behind."

Miles hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his tone softer this time. "Did you patch things up with your friends?"

She nodded. "Yes. We’re all good now."

"That’s good."

Silence settled over them after that, the only sound being the steady hum of the car as it cut through the city streets. Nearly an hour later, they pulled into the Allen Mansion’s long, winding driveway.

Ephyra stepped out, taking a moment to glance around. The once-bustling estate was unnervingly quiet. No staff hurried about their duties. No voices drifted from the living room or dining hall. It was as if the house itself had been abandoned.

She didn’t waste time wondering why. It didn’t matter.

Striding up the steps, she pushed open the grand doors and stepped inside. The air was thick with silence, the kind that stretched through empty halls and clung to forgotten places.

Ephyra walked straight to the staircase, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she climbed. She knew exactly where she was going.

Inside her bedroom, she shut the door behind her and let her gaze sweep across the space. It wasn’t just a room—it was a carefully curated reflection of the deceased Ephyra. The desk, the chair, the laptop, the stationery, the plants she had chosen, the sparse yet meaningful decorations she had crafted with her own hands.

She traced her fingers over them as she moved, lingering for only a second before sighing.

Time to leave it behind.

She turned to the wardrobe and began packing. Clothes first, then accessories, then everything else she could carry. She worked methodically, her movements efficient and precise. freewёbnoνel.com

Forty minutes later, she emerged, two suitcases in hand, dragging them behind her as she made her way to the staircase.

And then she saw him.

He looked like he had aged thirty years overnight. The arrogance, the effortless authority he had once exuded toward Ephyra—it was gone, replaced by a man who seemed hollowed out, stripped of the power he had wielded so easily before.

Ephyra came to a stop, her expression unreadable.

Her gaze was cold, unyielding. She tightened her grip on the suitcase handles.

Eliot’s mouth opened and closed, his throat working as if struggling to form the right words. His once-commanding presence was reduced to nothing but an aging man standing in the ruins of his own making. His desperation was palpable, lingering in the silence between them.

"Ephyra—"

"Do not call my name."

He flinched.

"Ephyra, I..." His voice wavered, unsteady in a way she had never heard before. "I know that there’s nothing I can say that will make you forgive me. And it’s all right, I understand—"

"You understand?" A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her lips. She let go of the suitcases, allowing them to drop to the floor with a dull thud. "You think you understand?"

Eliot remained silent.

"I was willing to walk away," she continued, her voice low but razor-sharp. "To leave without another word because you weren’t worth my time, my energy, my hatred. But you know what?" She took a step closer, her eyes burning into his. "I changed my mind."

Eliot inhaled sharply, as if bracing himself.

"Now I’m going to give you a piece of my fucking mind, Eliot."

Her voice was cold, sharp enough to cut. She took a slow step forward, her gaze locked onto Eliot’s, daring him to look away.

"You are nothing but a spineless, self-serving coward," she continued, her voice unwavering. "A man who let his mistress-turned-wife and her daughter—who isn’t even yours—abuse me while you stood there, watching, pretending not to see. Tell me, Eliot, did you ever once feel guilt? Did it ever cross your mind to step in, to stop them? Or were your company, your power, and your precious reputation more important than your own flesh and blood?"

Eliot swallowed hard, but he didn’t interrupt. Perhaps he knew that nothing he could say would make a difference.

Ephyra scoffed. "Of course not. I was never your daughter, was I? Just a burden, an inconvenience. You tolerated me because you had to, not because you wanted to." She let out a short, humorless laugh. "You know, I spent years craving your approval. I thought if I was good enough, smart enough, obedient enough, you might finally look at me and see more than just a reminder of my mother."

She took another step forward, closing the distance between them.

"But that was a mistake, wasn’t it?" Her voice softened, but there was no warmth in it. "Because no matter what I did, you never saw me. Not really."

Eliot’s lips parted, his face pale. "Ephyra, I—"

"You what?" she snapped. "You regret it? You’re sorry?" She let out a bitter chuckle. "Save it. Regret doesn’t undo the years of neglect. Apologies don’t erase the scars—physical or otherwise."

Without another word, she turned, grabbed her suitcases, and walked past him.

As she reached the door, she paused.

"Oh, and one more thing," she said without turning around. "From this day on, I have no parents. You, Marianna, Myra—none of you exist to me anymore."

Her voice was final, ringing through the empty mansion like a death knell. Eliot stood frozen, his face ashen, his body slumped as if the weight of his choices had finally come crashing down. But it didn’t matter—not to Ephyra. Not anymore.

She gripped the handles of her suitcases and strode forward without another glance, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Every step away from Eliot felt like another chain breaking, another layer of her past crumbling into dust.

Miles was already waiting by the car, standing beside the open trunk. He didn’t speak as she approached, merely taking the suitcases from her hands and loading them inside.

Ephyra exhaled, rolling her shoulders back. When she turned, she saw Eliot standing in the doorway, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite place—grief, regret, emptiness. Maybe all of them at once.

She met his gaze head-on, unflinching. And then, without a word, she slid into the car and shut the door.

Miles took his seat, started the engine, and pulled away from the mansion. Ephyra kept her eyes on the window, watching as the grand estate faded into the distance.

For years, this place had been Ephyra’s cage, her nightmare, the embodiment of every moment she had spent powerless. Now, it was nothing more than a hollow shell of the past.

She did not look back.

"Where to, Miss Ephyra?" Miles asked after a few minutes of silence.

Ephyra tilted her head back against the seat, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile.

"Take me home."