Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 116: Scary

Ephyra gave a small shrug, her eyes scanning the room. "Trust me, Malia. The best revenge is living well. And I plan to live very well."

Cyran, who had been observing silently, leaned closer with a smirk. "Wise words. Though, if you want me to accidentally spill champagne on Alan later, just say the word."

Ephyra chuckled, "That’s too small, why don’t we do something more interesting and dangerous?"

Orla raised a brow, "What level of danger would that be?"

"Enough to ruin their day, their reputation, and maybe accidentally get injured." frёewebnoѵēl.com

Malia gave her a thumbs up. "I’m totally in."

Cyran nodded while Orla shrugged as they took their seats while Sophia sat in front of them.

"Good, so what exactly do you have in mind?"

Ephyra leaned back in her seat, a faintly wicked smile playing on her lips. "Let me think. Something subtle but effective. Maybe a little... public humiliation. After all, nothing sticks better than a spectacle."

Cyran tilted his head, intrigued. "Public humiliation, you say? I like the sound of that. What’s the plan?"

Malia’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and she leaned forward eagerly. "Oh my goddess, Ephyra, you’ve got to do something epic. Something they’ll never recover from."

Orla, ever the voice of reason, gave a cautious glance at the group. "Let’s not get carried away. Whatever you’re planning, make sure it doesn’t come back to bite you later. This is a graduation, not a war zone."

Ephyra gave Orla a knowing look. "Trust me, Orla, I’ve learned to cover my tracks." Her eyes darted back to Alan and Myra, who were now chatting animatedly with a group of parents, their laughter grating in her ears. "Let’s just say I might know a few things about them that they wouldn’t want aired in front of this crowd."

Cyran raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Do tell."

Ephyra smirked, her voice low enough that only the group could hear. "For starters, Alan ’the genius’, ’the perfect son’ hired a couple of men to beat up a student who had an argument with him. There is a proof of it and Myra? Let’s just say I have an interesting video of her that could make a few jaws drop. Nothing like a little honesty to spice up the evening."

Malia clapped her hands together, her face practically glowing with delight. "Ephyra, you’re a genius. How do we make sure everyone finds out?"

Ephyra’s gaze flicked to the stage, where the podium and microphone stood waiting. "The question isn’t how. It’s who. Someone needs to make an announcement. Someone... uninvolved."

Cyran’s smirk deepened. "You mean someone disposable. A scapegoat."

"Exactly," Ephyra said, her voice calm but steely. "Someone desperate for attention. Someone like—" She paused, her eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on a younger student lingering near the side of the stage, clearly eager to impress but out of place. "—that kid."

Malia squinted, following Ephyra’s gaze. "You mean the junior class rep? What’s his name again? Ethan? Evan?"

"Elliot," Orla supplied. "He’s harmless. A bit of a people-pleaser, though."

"Perfect," Ephyra said smoothly. "He’ll jump at the chance to be noticed. All we need to do is give him a script and the proof. He just has to announce it, send the proof to the school blog website, and ask the students to check it out."

Cyran chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re terrifying, you know that?"

"I take that as a compliment," Ephyra replied with a sly smile. "Malia, you’re good at getting people to do things. Think you can plant the seed? It has to be done after the ceremony."

Malia grinned like a cat with a canary. "Oh, please. Give me five minutes with Elliot, and he’ll think it was his idea to begin with."

Orla sighed, but the corners of her lips twitched. "Just don’t get caught, Malia."

"Have I ever?" Malia shot back, standing and smoothing down her gown. "I’ll be back."

As Malia disappeared into the crowd, Cyran leaned closer to Ephyra. "So, what’s the script?"

Ephyra’s smile grew sharper. "Just the truth, Cyran. Nothing but the truth. But dressed up in a way that stings."

Cyran laughed under his breath. "I can’t wait to see how this plays out."

The ceremony was about to begin, the lights dimming slightly as the murmurs of the crowd settled into a quiet hum. The Elite High School’s 14th Annual Graduation Ceremony was finally starting. The energy in the air was palpable, the perfect blend of excitement, pride, and nervous anticipation. As the first few graduates lined up on the stage, the atmosphere shifted from casual chatter to focused attention. The audience’s eyes were all fixed on the students in their robes, ready to celebrate their accomplishments.

Just as the principal began to announce the first graduate, Malia returned, her mission accomplished. She slid into her seat with a barely contained grin on her face.

"It’s done. Elliot’s all set," Malia whispered, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "He’ll be ready to play his part. I gave him just enough of the story to pique his interest without overwhelming him. He’s practically vibrating with excitement to ’expose the truth.’" She mimed air quotes, her grin widening.

Ephyra nodded approvingly, her gaze steady as the first name was called and applause erupted around the room. "Good. Timing is everything. We’ll let the ceremony run its course. The announcement will hit during the reception, just when everyone’s mingling. That way, it’ll have the maximum impact."

Cyran leaned back in his chair, his expression one of amusement and admiration. "You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you? Remind me never to get on your bad side."

Ephyra’s smirk was faint but dangerous. "You’re smart enough not to."

As the procession continued, the group clapped politely for each name called, their attention half on the stage and half on their own brewing scheme.

The ceremony continued and their classmates were called one by one, then Malia was called followed by Cyran and Orla. By the time Ephyra’s name was called, the auditorium erupted into a wave of applause. She walked gracefully across the stage, her gown flowing with each step, her presence commanding attention. Even the principal’s handshake seemed to linger as he congratulated her, and murmurs rippled through the audience—some in awe, some in disbelief, and others in envy.

From the corner of her eye, Ephyra saw Alan stiffen and Myra’s saccharine smile falter, not able to hide their surprise. This made her scoff internally, but she kept her expression neutral, as if oblivious to their reactions. She accepted her diploma with poise and turned to face the crowd for a brief moment, her gaze sweeping over the sea of faces.

When the ceremony concluded and the reception began, the atmosphere shifted to one of celebration. Families mingled, cameras flashed, and laughter filled the air. Ephyra, Malia, Orla, and Cyran stayed close, watching as Elliot approached the stage with a determined expression.

"Showtime," Cyran murmured, his eyes glittering with anticipation.

Elliot tapped the microphone, drawing the room’s attention. "Excuse me, everyone. If I could have a moment of your time?"

The crowd quieted, curious. Alan and Myra, standing near the refreshment table, turned toward the stage, their expressions wary but intrigued.

"I just wanted to share something important," Elliot continued, his voice steady despite the weight of the crowd’s gaze. "As we celebrate today, it’s also a chance to reflect on who we are and how our actions define us."

Ephyra’s lips curled into a subtle smile. Good boy. Keep them guessing.

Elliot glanced toward the back of the room, where Malia gave him an encouraging nod. "I’ve recently come across some information—facts that deserve to be acknowledged. I’ve sent it to the school’s blog, where you can find the full details. Let’s just say... it’s a reminder that appearances can be deceiving."

The murmurs started instantly, confusion and intrigue spreading like wildfire. Phones lit up as people scrambled to check the blog, their reactions ranging from shock to disbelief to poorly suppressed laughter.

Alan’s face turned ashen as he stared at his phone, the damning evidence of his past misdeeds laid bare for all to see. Myra’s reaction was even more volatile—her expression twisted in fury and panic as she clutched her phone, her composure unraveling before the crowd.

Cyran let out a low whistle. "Well, that escalated quickly."

Malia grinned triumphantly. "Look at them squirm. This is better than I imagined."

Ephyra watched the chaos unfold, her satisfaction tempered by a cool detachment. "Revenge isn’t about anger or theatrics. It’s about precision. And this... this is perfect."

As Alan and Myra’s protests grew louder, drawing more attention, Ephyra turned away from the scene, her chin held high.

Cyran, walking beside her, leaned in and said with a smirk, "You’re scary, Ephyra. Brilliant, but scary."

She glanced at him, her expression calm yet unyielding. "Scary works, Cyran. People remember scary."