Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 85: The Love Of A Mother

"Mom, this is like the third time you’re searching for injuries I don’t have. I already told you, the attackers didn’t even touch me," Cyran said, exasperation mingling with affection as his mother’s hands flitted over him yet again.

His mother pulled back slightly to look at him. Her black hair, smooth and lustrous, framed her face in soft waves, falling past her shoulders. Her deep black eyes searched his face intently, refusing to yield to his protests. Her fair skin and flawless complexion were only enhanced by the slight furrow of worry on her brow.

"You may think you’re fine, Cyran, but until I see for myself, I won’t stop," she said firmly, her voice gentle. Her elegant navy gown, with its high neckline and delicate lace sleeves, shifted as she moved, her hand resting briefly on his chest as if to reassure herself of his safety. The thin diamond bracelet on her wrist caught the light.

"Mom, seriously," Cyran groaned, though the corner of his mouth twitched with a small smile. "I’ve told you everything. The attackers barely got near me before Ephyra and Malia’s bodyguard stepped in."

She sighed, drawing her hands back but not without a final once-over of his form. "I know, but you’re my son. What else am I supposed to do? You mean everything to me, Cyran. I couldn’t bear it if—" Her voice wavered slightly, and she quickly straightened, smoothing the lace of her sleeve with trembling hands.

"Mom." Cyran’s voice softened as he grabbed her hand. "I’m fine. I promise. I wasn’t hurt, not one bit."

"I know... I’m just scared," his mother admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders drooping slightly. "When I heard about what happened, all I could think about was how easily I could have lost you. You’re all I have, Cyran. I can’t lose you."

Cyran’s chest tightened at her words. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You’re not going to lose me, Mom. I swear."

She nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced. Instead, she cupped his face gently with both hands, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "You’re so much like your Emrys, you know. Always trying to reassure everyone else, even when you’re in pain. Promise me you’ll tell me if anything is wrong. Promise me."

"I promise," Cyran said sincerely, placing his hands over hers. "You don’t have to worry so much. Besides, I had Ephyra and Lance with me. And one of Ephyra’s bodyguards was also incredible. They wouldn’t have let anything happen to me."

A faint smile touched her lips at his words. "This Ephyra," she said thoughtfully, tilting her head. "You seem to trust her a lot. She must be quite special."

Cyran nodded, smiling brightly. "She is. She’s strong, smart, and fearless. I don’t know how she does it, but when she’s around, it feels like everything’s going to be okay."

His mother’s smile grew, a glimmer of affection lighting her eyes. "She sounds remarkable. Maybe you should invite her over for tea one day. I’d like to meet the girl who inspires such confidence in my son."

Cyran chuckled as he shook his head. "Maybe. I’m not sure she’s the ’tea’ type, though."

"Well, if she’s anything like you’ve described, I’m sure I’ll like her," his mother said warmly. Then her expression grew serious again. "But for now, you need to eat. You’ve had a long day, and I don’t want you skipping meals. You’re not going to stay strong if you neglect yourself." She gave him a pointed look, her hands resting on her hips now.

Cyran laughed softly, the sound filled with warmth. "Alright, alright. I’ll eat. I promise."

"I mean it," she said, her stern expression softening. "There’s chicken stew in the kitchen, and I expect you to finish a bowl before you even think about doing anything else."

"Yes, ma’am," he teased, his grin widening.

She gave him one last affectionate look, smoothing his hair before turning to leave the room. "I’ll check on you later. And don’t stay up too late, Cyran."

As she disappeared down the hallway, Cyran let out a small sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair. He loved his mother dearly, but her overprotectiveness could be a bit overwhelming at times.

He made his way to the kitchen, the aroma of the chicken stew filling the air and reminding him just how hungry he was. As he ladled a generous portion into a bowl, his thoughts drifted back to Ephyra.

She really was remarkable. The way she’d stepped in without hesitation, her confidence and strength—it wasn’t just inspiring, it was comforting. She made them all feel safe, even in the face of danger.

He hoped they would all be friends for a long time.

–––

Meanwhile, Lillian, Cyran’s mother, paced back and forth in the guest bedroom, her phone pressed tightly to her ear. The moment the call connected, she launched into a tirade, not giving her husband a chance to speak.

"Our son was in danger today, and you didn’t even bother to call? Seriously, Brian? Don’t you dare tell me you didn’t know! Your grandfather must have heard about it, and I’m certain that bastard Rylie knew too, given how they’re always keeping tabs on the members of the family. Yet here I am, and there’s not a single sign of a security detail for Cyran! Even if he refused, why didn’t Rylie consult me? Or better yet, why didn’t you step up as his father? If the family wouldn’t protect him, you should’ve hired someone to do it!"

"Lillian," Brian’s voice came through the line, tired and exasperated, "calm down. Yes, Grandpa informed me, and I passed the information on to Rylie. You know I’m on a business trip in Germany—what exactly did you expect me to do? Fly home immediately? And let’s not forget, Cyran was the one who refused the security detail, wasn’t he? He wasn’t even hurt! Besides, Grandpa said it was Emrys they were targeting, not Cyran. Since they didn’t get either of them, I doubt Cyran will be in danger anytime soon. So you really need to—"

"Anytime soon? Are you fucking serious right now, Brian?" Lillian’s voice was a low hiss, sharp with restrained fury. "Do you even hear yourself? ’Anytime soon’? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Our son was almost dragged into some insane family feud, and your response is to dismiss it because this time he got lucky?"

"Lillian—"

"No, don’t you dare ’Lillian’ me! This isn’t just about today, Brian. This is about every time you’ve turned a blind eye and trusted Rylie to handle things while pretending you’re too busy. You’re his father. Not Rylie, and definitely not your grandfather. This was your responsibility!"

Brian sighed heavily, his tone defensive. "I’ve done everything I can for Cyran within reason. I hired a private investigator to keep tabs on him, didn’t I? And I’m making sure this family nonsense doesn’t affect his life directly. I don’t see what else you want from me."

"What do I want?!" Lillian’s voice cracked, equal parts anger and disbelief. "I want you to act like you care about something other than your precious ’business trips’ and your family’s politics! I want you to take real responsibility for Cyran’s safety and not pawn it off on Rylie or your damn investigator!"

There was a moment of tense silence on the line before Brian finally spoke again, his voice colder now. "You think I don’t care about Cyran? Do you have any idea how much I’ve sacrificed to keep him healthy and out of the chaos this family creates? If it weren’t for me, he’d already be caught up in all of it, just like Emrys and the other Carver grandchildren!"

Lillian’s laugh was bitter. "Sacrifices? Don’t make me laugh, Brian. Sacrifice is putting yourself on the line for your son, not throwing money and people at the problem while you stay comfortably removed. Maybe if you actually talked to Cyran once in a while instead of hiding behind excuses, you’d see how much he resents being treated like a second thought." fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

Brian’s silence was deafening.

"And don’t even get me started on Rylie," Lillian continued, her voice trembling with anger. "I don’t trust that boy as far as I can throw him. He’s manipulative, and you know he only follows your grandfather’s orders when it suits him. I won’t have Cyran’s life in his hands. Not now, not ever."

"Lillian, that’s enough," Brian snapped, his tone icy. "Rylie is loyal to the family. And whether you like it or not, he’s one of the only reasons Cyran has stayed safe this long. You might not trust him, but I do. End of discussion."

"End of discussion? End of discussion?" Lillian’s voice rose, breaking the calm façade she’d been trying to maintain. "Fine, Brian. If you won’t do your job as a father, then I’ll do it myself. I’m hiring a security team for Cyran, and I don’t give a damn if he protests. If you want to keep sitting on the sidelines, go ahead. But don’t you dare expect me to keep pretending you’re anything more than a shadow in his life."

She hung up before Brian could respond, her hands trembling with frustration. Taking a deep breath, she pressed a hand to her chest, willing herself to calm down. For Cyran’s sake, she needed to think clearly.

After a moment, she pulled out her phone again, dialing a new number.

"Hello, Mr. Crane? Yes, it’s Lillian. I need to hire a security detail for my son. Effective immediately. No, I don’t care about the cost—just make it happen."

As she ended the call, Lillian glanced toward Cyran’s room, her expression softening. Whatever it took, she’d keep her son safe, even if the rest of the family couldn’t be trusted.

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