Transmigrated Into The True Heiress

"The bone healing spray exceeded my expectations. Under normal circumstances, you would not have been able to use your right arm again, but this spray has accelerated the recovery process far beyond what I anticipated. With continued use and proper care, your arm should regain full functionality in no—" Liam stopped mid-sentence as he caught sight of Ephyra's intense, blank gaze fixed on him.

[Master, the healing spray only contributed 50% to the healing of your arm! The other 50% is because I restored your body to its younger and healthier state.]

[You mean the half-assed repair job you did?]

[Master... the repair and restoration weren't completed because I was activated a year earlier, and my functionalities are not fully updated. That's why your body is in a partially restored state. But I assure you, with time and continuous upgrades, I can complete the restoration process.]

[Yeah, right. Talk to me again when you've finished the job.]

[Master—]

"Ephyra? Why are you looking at me like that? Is something wrong?" Liam asked, tilting his head and narrowing his brown eyes in suspicion. "Don't tell me you're hungry again. You already had dinn—"

Ephyra rolled her eyes and pulled her arm from his grasp. "Why didn't you dry your hair after showering? And no, I'm not hungry," she retorted with mild annoyance. "Also, you look like a middle-aged man who's suffered all his life and doesn't know what happiness is."

Liam chuckled, brushing his fingers through his damp blond hair, while his other hand traced the dark circles under his eyes. "Middle-aged and miserable, huh? That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" he teased, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Ephyra shrugged. "Just calling it like I see it. Anyway, where is Elma?"

"Your nanny? Nurse Rain told me on my way here that she went to pick up your school uniform." He paused. "And I wanted to ask, are you not going home once you're discharged tomorrow?"

"I'm not getting discharged tomorrow; it's the day after tomorrow. And yes, I will be going to school straight after I get discharged," she replied in a dismissive tone before tilting her head. "Any more questions? Do you want to ask why?"

Liam shook his head. "I would like to ask why. Actually, I have a lot of things I want to ask you, but I have a feeling you won't answer any of my questions."

She flashed him a tight, mischievous smile. "Your feelings are on point; I won't be answering any of your questions."

He let out a quiet sigh, leaning back slightly. "Figures," he muttered under his breath and stood up. "Don't stress the arm too much."

"Mm. Where are you going?"

"I'm going to see a VIP patient."

"Like this?" She nodded at his white t-shirt and slightly wrinkled cargo pants.

Liam glanced down at himself and chuckled. "They won't mind."

She rolled her eyes again but couldn't help but snort. "Whatever you say, doctor."

Liam shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes as he turned toward the door. "Try not to get into too much trouble while I'm gone."

"No promises."

Liam gave a mock salute as he walked out, and as soon as the door clicked shut, the familiar voice in Ephyra's mind returned.

[Master, that man seems to have an emotional attachment to you.]

Ephyra rolled her eyes. [Yeah, and it's called pity,] she shot back, her tone dry as she pushed herself off the bed and headed toward the bathroom.

She stepped into the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The oval face with pronounced cheekbones, large almond-shaped striking blue eyes framed by well-defined arched eyebrows, full lips, and flawless fair skin that looked back was still unfamiliar. And despite the flood of memories from Ephyra's life, it was strange—being Ephyra, but not.

Even after three weeks. One week of being unconcious and two weeks of being conscious.

There were too many things she wanted to do. She had to piece together why she'd been brought into this body, make the people who made Ephyra's life a nightmare suffer ten times worse than what she had gone through, and, most importantly, figure out who had orchestrated her death in the first place. But none of that was going to happen if she was still this weak and had nothing to her name.

As the water from the faucet splashed against her hands, she clenched her fists.

[This body may be weak and poor now] she thought, [but it won't stay that way for long.]

Then she smiled.

However, she didn't need any of that for what she was going to do to her dear stepsister the day after tomorrow.

She couldn't possibly keep what her stepsister did and said to Ephyra a secret, now could she?

••

"All the proposals from Carver Industries have been rejected, just as you'd ordered, Master Aelion." A bowing figure spoke in a low voice to the tall and broad man sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed on a couch placed against a large, angled glass wall where the moonlight spilled on him, creating an ethereal glow that highlighted his sharp features.

His dark hair was tousled, complementing his dark shirt as it fell over his striking features, and his finger, tapping rhythmically on the armrest of the couch, was the only indication that he was paying attention.

"Also, Master Aelion, Rylie Carver asked for a meeting with you, and along with that, he sent a letter." Lyle Aelion's hand paused as the man brought the letter forward and presented it to him, but the person who collected it was the female clad in all black, standing behind him like the dutiful second-in-command she was.

At the same time, the door to the room opened, and Liam strode in, carrying a tray with injections and various medical tools neatly arranged. He didn't bother with formalities, casually walking toward Aelion. "Your treatment for the month," Liam announced, setting the tray on a nearby table.

Lyle's fingers resumed tapping on the armrest, his piercing violet eyes opening to meet Liam's gaze. "You're late," he said in a low, even tone.

Liam smirked, unfazed. "You'd live even if I was late for a day."

"Liam," Lyle called, his voice low and hard. "You do know how important taking my medications on time is, as my doctor, don't you? You were late for the first time, but for me, that's one time too many."

"You're right, I'm sorry," he smiled apologetically as he grabbed Lyle's arm and administered the injections with practiced ease. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

Lyle nodded, "What does the letter say, Jania?"

With a bow that had her sleek ponytail falling over her neck, Jania responded, "Master, Rylie Carver said he has and knows some interesting things; things you would like to know about."

"Does he now?"

Jania hesitated before answering. "He didn't specify, but it seems he knows something about you, Master Lyle."

Lyle's eyes narrowed as he processed this information. "Very well. Schedule a meeting with him in two months."

"Understood," Jania replied, taking a step back.

Liam finished administering the injections and packed up the medical tools. He glanced at Lyle. "Do you want to see him?"

Lyle smiled mirthlessly. "No, but I'm curious. What could he possibly have or know that I would be interested in?"

Liam leaned back and sighed. "Just don't meet him, and then let all our efforts go to waste. Remember, this is the last option. After this, we're going to have to look for a 'unique scent,' if it really exists, that is."

"I won't." With that, he pulled the sleeve of his shirt and buttoned it before standing up.

"Wait," Liam stood up, "I need to talk to you, alone."

Lyle raised a brow but nodded and glanced at Jania, who got his message and walked out of the room, followed by the rest of the men.

_____

The serene, suburban community of Forest Hills Gardens in Queens, NYC was shrouded in the darkness of the night.

Nestled within this residential area were sprawling Tudor-style homes, opulent mansions, and grand estates, each commanding tens of millions of dollars, contributing to its reputation as a haven exclusively for the affluent. It was within this esteemed neighborhood that the Allen Family's Mansion stood.

In the lavishly spacious residence, Marriane Allen and her daughter, Myra Allen, who closely resembled her mother, were seated on the sofa in the living room, each engrossed in their activities.

They were both blonde but Marianne was a dark blonde with chocolate brown eyes and tan skin while Myra was a bleach blonde with hazel eyes and sun-kissed skin. You can say that Myra didn't look like her father one bit except for the skin color but even that can be said to have been gotten from her mother. Ephyra, on the other hand, resembled her father with her eye and hair color.

They both had been like this since they finished dinner as neither felt sleepy though Myra's cause of sleeplessness was because of the worry gnawning at her.

For the past two weeks and some days, she'd acted nonchalant about Ephyra's accident but after knowing that she would be discharged in two days, she couldn't help but fear that Ephyra would tell their father who was also coming back on the same day what she did to Ephyra before she got hit.

Myra might be the favored daughter but everyone knew deep in their hearts that their father still regarded her as an illegitimate child and the fact that he didn't love her mother and only married her to forget about his long-dead first love, worsened the situation.

Turning off her phone, she sat up and turned to face her mother. "Mom."

"Mm?" Marrianne responded without turning away from the lit screen of the tablet in front of her.

"Mom, you can shop later. I need to talk to you about something." Myra's voice changed from the soft tone to a hard tone, catching Marianne's attention. She glanced up, her brow furrowing slightly.

"What is it, Myra?" Marianne asked, setting the tablet aside and giving her daughter her full attention.

"It's about Ephyra," Myra said, her voice now tinged with anxiety and irritation. "She's going to be discharged in two days. And Dad... he's coming back on the same day."

Marianne raised a brow. "Yes, and?"

Myra took a deep breath. "What if she tells him what happened? What if she tells him what I did before the accident?"

Marianne's gaze hardened. "And why would she do that?" Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "And even if she did, your father won't believe her. His dislike for her would make it hard for him to listen to her."

"But Mom," Myra insisted, her eyes wide with worry. "What if he listens and believes her? You know how Dad is. Even if he doesn't care much for her, he might still be angry. He's always looking for a reason to lash out."

Elliot Allen's wrath was not to be taken lightly and Myra didn't want to be on the receiving end of it.

She sometimes even wondered how Ephyra always survived the punishments with her frail body.

Marianne leaned back on the sofa, crossing her arms over her chest. "If Ephyra tries to cause trouble, we'll deal with it. But I doubt she will. Tell me, if we told your father that Ephyra had been gone from home for three weeks without telling anyone where she was and making us worry. You can also add that lately, at school, you always see her hanging out with rowdy and uncultured guys, and sometimes she doesn't go to school at all. That all this started before he even went on his trip, but because we thought it was just a phase, we didn't tell him anything, would he believe us?"

"That is if he's in a bad mood and he doesn't already know about her getting hit and almost losing her life, Mom."

"I don't think he knows. At least from the last time we spoke, he didn't seem to know."

Myra frowned. "Really? Then how could Elma not tell him? Where would she get the hospital bills from? And what if Ephyra denies everything we say and decides to stand up for herself?"

A small, amused smile tugged at the corners of Marianne's lips. "That dimwit? Stand up for herself? Myra, she's had seventeen years to do that and has never shown an ounce of backbone. Trust me, she won't start now. And I don't know nor care why Elma didn't inform your dad, or maybe she tried to but couldn't reach him. Whatever happened, it's working in our favor."

"But—"

"No buts," Marianne interrupted firmly. "Stop worrying about the trash; it's for nothing. You're the favored daughter, remember? And as long as you and I are here, Ephyra will always get the short end of the stick."

Myra nodded slowly, trying to convince herself of her mother's words. But deep down, a nagging doubt continued to gnaw at her. Something told her that this time, things were going to be different.

She just didn't know how different.