Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 122: Loose Ends

"Ephyra Allen," she said smoothly, her voice low and steady.

The man’s eyes flicked briefly to a list on his clipboard. "Ah, of course. Right this way, Mrs. Allen." He signaled to an attendant, who stepped forward to escort them inside.

The grand doors of the ballroom swung open, revealing a dazzling spectacle. The room shimmered with light from crystal chandeliers, their brilliance reflecting off the gilded walls and mirrored accents. Music from a live orchestra filled the air—a haunting melody that underscored the elegant chaos of the gathering. Guests in elaborate masks mingled, their laughter and conversation weaving a tapestry of sound.

Ephyra stepped into the ballroom, her gaze sweeping across the scene. She could feel the weight of eyes on her. The whispers intensified as she descended the staircase into the main hall, the soft train of her gown trailing behind her like a comet’s tail.

Jania leaned closer as they reached the floor. "You’ve officially stolen the show, and we’ve only just arrived."

Ephyra smirked, her eyes glinting beneath her mask. "Good. That’s exactly what I intended."

They moved through the crowd, Ephyra nodding politely at those who approached her. Despite the opulent surroundings, her mind was sharp and calculating, scanning the room for familiar faces.

Juan and Jania were soon pulled into a conversation with a group of influential socialites, leaving Ephyra momentarily alone.

She made her way to the edge of the room, where a grand display of desserts caught her attention. The table was a masterpiece, with tiered trays of intricately crafted pastries, sparkling sugar sculptures, and an ice centerpiece shaped like a snowflake. Ephyra reached for a glass of champagne from a passing server, her fingers brushing the chilled stem as she turned her attention back to the crowd.

And then she heard her name being called.

"Ephyra! Ephyra, here! It’s Malia!"

Ephyra turned at the sound of Malia’s voice, a flicker of amusement crossing her features. Malia was making her way through the crowd with Orla and Cyran in tow. Dressed in a scarlet gown with gold accents, Malia looked every bit as glamorous as the event demanded, though her uncontained excitement made her stand out even more. Orla, in contrast, wore a muted emerald dress with a high neckline and minimal embellishments, while Cyran looked sharp in a tailored charcoal suit and a simple black mask.

Malia reached Ephyra first, her heels clicking rapidly against the marble floor. "Oh my God, Ephyra, you look like you just stepped out of a movie. That dress, the mask—it’s insane!"

"Thank you," Ephyra replied with a faint smile, sipping her champagne. Her gaze shifted briefly to Orla and Cyran, who greeted her with hugs.

"You really outdid yourself," Cyran said, his tone admiring but not overbearing. "People haven’t stopped staring since you walked in."

Ephyra tilted her head slightly. "Good. The attention serves a purpose."

Orla raised an eyebrow. "Planning something already, are we? You’ve always been... strategic."

Ephyra’s smile deepened, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Let’s just say I have my reasons."

Malia, unfazed by the subtle tension, grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing tray and grinned. "Well, whatever your reasons are, you’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger. Even the press is buzzing about the ’mystery woman in black.’" She gestured toward a cluster of reporters gathered near the edge of the ballroom, their cameras occasionally flashing toward Ephyra.

"I noticed," Ephyra replied coolly. "And I plan to keep it that way."

Before anyone could respond, a sudden commotion near the grand entrance drew their attention. The chatter in the room dimmed as the crowd turned to see who had arrived. A striking couple stepped into the ballroom—Alan and Myra.

Alan was dressed in a crisp white suit with a gold mask, while Myra wore a shimmering silver gown that clung to her figure, her mask adorned with glittering jewels. Their presence immediately commanded the room, though not entirely in a positive way. Whispers rippled through the crowd, some admiring, others speculative.

Malia scowled. "And there they are. The happy couple." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "I can’t believe they’re actually being celebrated here. What a joke."

Ephyra didn’t respond immediately, her gaze locked on Alan and Myra. Her expression remained unreadable, though her fingers played around the stem of her glass.

"Ephyra?" Cyran’s voice was cautious, as if sensing the shift in her demeanor. "You okay?"

"I’m fine," she said evenly, though the glint in her eyes told a different story. She set her glass down on a nearby table and straightened her posture. "If you’ll excuse me."

"Wait, where are you going?" Malia asked, but Ephyra was already moving, her gown flowing behind her like a shadow.

She approached Alan and Myra with measured grace, her every step deliberate. The crowd seemed to part for her, their murmurs growing louder as they realized who was heading toward the newly engaged couple.

Alan noticed her first. His smile faltered, and a flicker of unease crossed his face. Myra, oblivious to his reaction, turned to see what had caught his attention. When she spotted Ephyra, her expression turned cold.

"Ephyra," Myra greeted, her tone sharp despite the polite smile she forced onto her lips. "What a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here."

"Really?" Ephyra replied, her voice smooth as silk. "Considering the circumstances, I find that hard to believe."

Alan cleared his throat, his hand tightening on Myra’s arm. "Ephyra, it’s good to see you. You look... stunning."

Ephyra’s smile was razor-sharp. "Thank you, Alan. And congratulations on your engagement. How... fortunate for you both."

Myra’s smile wavered, her eyes narrowing. "Yes, we’re very fortunate. And it’s kind of you to acknowledge that."

"Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world," Ephyra said, her tone carrying an edge that only Alan seemed to catch. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

The tension between the three of them was palpable, drawing the attention of nearby guests. Ephyra held their gazes for a moment longer before offering a slight bow of her head.

"Well, I won’t keep you. Enjoy your evening." She smiled and leaned toward them. "Though I doubt you will be able to. Look out for my surprise, okay?" With that, she turned and walked away, her exit as attention-grabbing as her approach.

Back near the dessert table, Malia, Orla, and Cyran watched her return with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"What was that about?" Malia asked as Ephyra rejoined them.

"Nothing," Ephyra replied, picking up her champagne again. She took a sip, her gaze distant. "Just tying up loose ends."

Orla exchanged a glance with Cyran, who shrugged. Malia, however, leaned closer, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Tying up loose ends, huh? Care to elaborate?"

Ephyra smirked but didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her attention back to the ballroom, her expression serene and composed.