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12.17% Transmigrated Into The True Heiress / Chapter 18: Arrival

Chapter 18: Arrival

Meanwhile, in Allen Mansion, Marianna sat at the edge of her daughter's bed, her fingers absently tracing the silk of her dress as she stared into space, brows furrowed in thought. Her blonde hair fell in loose, effortless waves over her shoulders, framing her face in a way that highlighted her striking features. She wore a mint-colored silk wrap dress, its plunging neckline revealing just enough to catch attention, while the thigh-high slit on one side accentuated her curvaceous figure.

Across the room, her daughter, Myra, was busy getting ready for her father's return from a long business trip. Marianna, however, seemed preoccupied, her usual calculated calm slipping as the minutes ticked by.

It had been a long journey for Elliot Allen. When he inherited *Alc Architectures*, the company had been on the verge of collapse, plagued by debts and mismanagement. But Elliot, with his unrelenting drive and resourcefulness, had managed to pull the company back from the brink. Still, despite his efforts, it was a pale shadow of the empire it once was.

The turning point came when Elliot married Elara—Ephyra's mother. Elara had inherited a massive fortune after the untimely death of her parents, and upon their marriage, almost all of it was transferred to Elliot. With that infusion of wealth, *Alc Architectures* was given new life. The company's reputation improved, projects flowed in, and it seemed as if nothing could stop them, even after Elara's tragic death.

But then came Marianna.

A few years into his second marriage, Elliot secured a high-profile contract—one that was supposed to elevate the company to new heights. But the deal was a trap. The company involved paid only half the agreed amount, forcing Elliot to use *Alc's* remaining funds to purchase materials that were later stolen. It turned out that the so-called "partner company" had never existed. The losses from the scam crippled *Alc Architectures*, sending it into a steady decline. And Elliot became a shadow of himself—obsessed with regaining the fortune he'd lost.

Now, for the first time in years, there was hope on the horizon. A prestigious firm from the U.S. had approached *Alc* with a major contract to build a branch in China. Elliot had flown out three weeks ago to finalize negotiations, a trip that was supposed to last two weeks but had dragged on into its third.

Marianna knew exactly why her husband had extended his trip. She had long grown indifferent to the excuses, the late nights, and the emotional distance. As long as no other woman was bold enough to threaten her position in the household, she didn't care. Let him take all the time he needed.

But that wasn't what was bothering her now.

She stood up abruptly, pacing behind one of the plush white couches that lined the pink-and-gold-themed bedroom. Her manicured fingers grazed the soft fabric as she walked back and forth, unable to shake the unease gnawing at her.

"Mom…" Myra sighed from the vanity, her hand paused mid-air as she applied a final touch of lip gloss. She turned to look at her mother through the reflection in the mirror. "You need to calm down. Didn't you say they were professionals? If they're from the Black Market, they know what they're doing. Ephyra's probably dead already."

Marianna halted her pacing, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Then why hasn't Rico called me yet? It's been five hours. Your father will be home in less than an hour, and every minute that passes without confirmation of that girl's death increases the chances of Elliot finding out what happened. If only the letters and that damned CCTV footage didn't exist, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place."

She resumed pacing, her steps quick and restless. "But the dead can't talk," she muttered under her breath. "So it's better if she's dead."

Myra rolled her eyes at her mother's dramatics, standing from the vanity. She was dressed in a pale lavender dress with subtle pleats at the waist, her hair styled half-up, half-down, cascading in loose waves that mirrored her mother's. "Mom, you're overthinking this. Ephyra is not surviving tonight. We're going to be fine."

Marianna paused, her fingers gripping the back of the couch as though for support. "I won't feel at ease until I hear that she's gone. Your father can't know about this—if he does…"

"I know, I know," Myra interrupted, standing from her vanity and smoothing her dress. "It'll ruin everything. But stressing yourself out isn't going to help. Just trust your friend and his men. They'll get the job done."

Marianna shot her a sharp glance. "I'm not only worried about them doing their job. I'm also worried about timing. I don't want to take a risk and still fail."

Myra walked over, placing a calming hand on her mother's shoulder. "Mom, relax. We're going to be fine. Ephyra is as good as gone."

Marianna let out a shaky breath and nodded, resting her hand over her daughter's. "She has to be."

Just as she spoke, a knock sounded at the door, drawing their attention. "Who's that?"

"Ma'am Marianna, it's Elma."

"Come in."

The door creaked open, and Elma, the family's long-serving nanny, stepped inside. She was dressed neatly in her usual uniform, her demeanor calm and collected.

"Ma'am," Elma began, her eyes flickering briefly between mother and daughter, "I just wanted to report that all the preparations are done, and according to Mr. Allen's secretary, they should be arriving any moment now."

Marianna's expression remained tense, and she waved a dismissive hand. "Alright, you can leave. We will be ready soon and head downstairs."

Elma nodded but lingered, as if something else weighed on her mind. Sensing the pause, Myra narrowed her eyes.

"What are you still doing here, Elma? Do you need something?" Myra's voice was sharp, impatience lacing her words.

Elma clasped her hands together, lowering her gaze. "It's about Ephyra… I haven't seen her all evening. She hasn't come back to the house yet. I was wondering if something had happened to her, just like when she got into that accident three weeks ago."

At the mention of Ephyra's name, Marianna's jaw clenched, and Myra's expression hardened.

"Ephyra is fine, Elma," Marianna said tersely. "She's probably staying late at school. Nothing for you to worry about."

Elma's brow furrowed, her voice soft with concern. "But ma'am, Ephyra hasn't fully recovered, and she was just discharged. I'm just worried that—"

"I said she's fine!" Marianna snapped, her patience wearing thin. The sudden outburst startled both Myra and Elma. Myra quickly stepped in, her tone cold and dismissive.

"Elma, whatever happens to her is her fault. She can take care of herself. Now stop being annoying and leave."

Elma pressed her lips together into a thin line but nodded. "Yes, miss," she murmured, retreating toward the door.

As she turned to leave, Marianna's fingers twitched, her nerves still frayed. "And Elma," Marianna called after her, her voice firm, though cold, "if you hear anything about Ephyra, let me know immediately. Understood?"

Elma paused, glancing back briefly. "Yes, ma'am. I'll let you know."

With that, the door closed behind her, leaving Marianna and Myra in a heavy silence, each lost in their thoughts.

Myra crossed her arms, some of her earlier confidence faltering. "You think Elma suspects something?"

Marianna shook her head, though her expression remained tight. "No. She's just overly concerned about Ephyra, as usual. But it doesn't matter. By the time anyone realizes what's happened, it will be too late."

A sudden ring shattered the silence, causing both women to jump. Marianna quickly fished her phone out, her heart pounding when she saw Rico's name on the screen.

She answered immediately, her voice tense. "Rico?"

There was a brief silence on the other end before Rico's gruff voice crackled through. "We've got a problem."

Marianna's blood turned to ice. "What do you mean, a problem?"

"Ephyra," Rico growled, "She's— fuck! Wha—" The line abruptly went dead.

Frantically, Marianna redialed, but the call wouldn't go through.

"Argh!" She hurled the phone onto the couch, where it bounced once before hitting the floor.

"What happened, mom?" Myra asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.

Marianna cradled her head in her hands, pacing again. "I don't know, but it's definitely not good. What was he going to say about Ephyra?"

"I don't know—"

Another knock sounded, and this time it was one of the maids.

"Ma'am, Master Allen has arrived."

Elliot Allen stepped out of the black SUV. He looked exhausted, but there was an undeniable lightness in his demeanor that hadn't been there in months. His trip had clearly gone well, and he was in a better mood than either Marianna or Myra had seen in a long time.

"Welcome home, darling," Marianna cooed, her voice soft and seductive as she approached him with open arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his as she placed a lingering kiss on his lips. His hand instinctively found her waist, and a low hum of satisfaction escaped him.

Marianna knew how to keep him grounded in his desires. Even after seventeen years of marriage and a grown daughter, she had perfected the art of keeping her husband's attention. The way his shoulders relaxed in her embrace was proof enough of that.

"Father!" Myra greeted enthusiastically, stepping forward with a wide smile, her arms wrapping around him in a quick but affectionate hug. Despite her impatience earlier, she knew how to play the role of the perfect daughter when needed.

Elliot chuckled softly, "My girls," he said, patting both of them on the back fondly. "It's good to be home."

For the first time in what felt like ages, he seemed genuinely happy—relieved, even. And it was clear to Marianna and Myra that something had gone right during his trip.

After exchanging pleasantries with the driver and his secretary, Elliot dismissed them both, waving them off with a casual "Good work." The SUV doors closed, and the staff quickly dispersed, leaving the family alone.

With Marianna on one side and Myra on the other, both clinging to his arms, they guided him toward the grand entrance of the house. The staff lined up near the doorway to offer their greetings.

"Welcome home, Mr. Allen," the staff chorused, bowing slightly before quickly making themselves scarce. They knew better than to linger when Elliot wanted to unwind.

Marianna gave her husband a coy smile, her hand still resting on his arm. "Why don't you take a quick shower, darling? You must be tired from the trip. We'll get everything ready for dinner."

Elliot, who was already loosening his tie, nodded in agreement. "That sounds perfect. I could use a shower."

As he headed upstairs, Marianna gave the staff a few swift instructions to set the dining table, ensuring everything would be perfect for his first meal back.

The relaxed, happy atmosphere continued as Elliot came back downstairs, freshly showered and dressed in more comfortable attire. The dining room was elegantly prepared, the table set with fine china and gleaming silverware. Marianna had gone out of her way to make sure the meal would be a special one.

As they began to eat, the conversation was light. Elliot talked about the trip, hinting at the success of the negotiations, though he remained vague on the details for now. Myra chimed in occasionally, asking about the architecture in China, though it was clear that her mind was still elsewhere.

And then, as they neared the end of the meal, Elliot glanced around the room, his brow furrowing slightly. "Where's Ephyra?" he asked, his tone casual, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

Marianna froze, her hand hovering over her glass of wine. Myra's eyes flickered briefly toward her mother before she quickly schooled her expression into something neutral.

"Oh, Ephyra…" Marianna began, trying to sound nonchalant as she set her glass down carefully. "She's been busy with school. She might still be at the library studying."

Elliot frowned, setting his fork down. "This late?"


next chapter

Chapter 19: Ragtag

Elliot frowned, setting his fork down with a soft clink. "This late? Didn't she know I was coming back today?"

Myra, sitting across the table, was quick to jump in. "Well, Mom told her the last time she came home, and we've been trying to reach her, but she won't pick up. I even reminded her at school today, and she said she knew you were coming."

Elliot's frown deepened, his brows knitting together in a way that made the atmosphere in the room turn heavy. His voice lowered, but the sharp edge was unmistakable. "The last time she came home? What do you mean by that, Myra?"

Myra froze, the casual confidence she had shown just moments ago dissipating in an instant. She swallowed, her voice faltering as she spoke. "Uh, I… S-she…"

She trailed off, avoiding her father's gaze, her fingers fidgeting with the napkin in her lap.

Elliot's eyes bore into her, his patience wearing thin. "Do you want me to repeat my question, Myra?" His voice was calm, but the warning was clear.

Myra glanced quickly toward Marianna, who was silent, her face a perfect mask of composure, though her eyes flashed with a warning of their own—Myra needed to handle this carefully. 

The lie had to be perfect. 

"I-I just meant," Myra stammered, "that she hasn't been around much lately, both at home and at school. She's been spending more time with her new friends, who are mostly guys, and, well, she's been staying out later than usual. Sometimes, she doesn't come home. She's also been failing in school…" Myra finished weakly, her voice trailing off as her father's expression darkened.

Elliot sat back in his chair, his jaw tightening. He looked from Myra to Marianna, as if trying to gauge whether they were telling him the truth.

"When did this start?"

Marianna took a sip of her wine, her voice calm as she answered. "A few weeks ago, right after you left for your business trip. We didn't think much of it at first, considering her age. We thought it was just a rebellious phase, but then it became more frequent."

Elliot's eyes narrowed as he processed the information. His gaze shifted back to Myra, who sat nervously, fidgeting under his scrutiny.

"So," he said, his voice dangerously quiet, "you're telling me that Ephyra has been staying out late, skipping school, and associating with unsavory people, yet neither of you thought to inform me? You let her continue this rotten behavior?"

Marianna leaned forward, her tone soothing as she attempted to ease the tension. "Darling, we didn't want to bother you while you were away. We believed we could handle it. We've tried speaking to her, but you know how stubborn she can be."

Elliot's jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around the stem of his wine glass. "Handle it? Clearly, you haven't handled anything."

Myra swallowed hard, her heart racing. She wasn't used to seeing her father so angry—not directed at her, at least. The mother and daughter exchanged a glance, their calm facade barely hiding the panic simmering beneath the surface.

Marianna reached out to touch Elliot's arm gently. "Let's not ruin your first night home with this, darling. We'll talk to her when she comes back. We can discipline her together."

Elliot glanced at his wife, his expression softening only slightly. "Fine," he muttered. "But when she gets home, we're going to have a serious conversation. I won't have this kind of behavior tolerated in my house."

Marianna nodded, relief washing over her. "Of course, dear."

The dinner continued in silence, the lighthearted atmosphere from earlier completely gone. Myra stared down at her plate, her appetite lost as dread gnawed at her insides. She could only hope that Ephyra wouldn't return tonight—or worse, that the call her mother was waiting for would never come.

As Elliot stood from the table, excusing himself for the night, Marianna exchanged a quick, worried glance with Myra. They both knew that if Ephyra walked through those doors, there would be no more lies to cover up the truth.

|An Hour And Half Earlier|

As soon as Jania was done with Lyle's orders, she went to the underground dungeon where her colleagues had taken the men from the earlier fight. She stepped out of the large elevator, which went back up as soon as she walked out of it.

The grand estate was a stark contrast to the cold, dimly lit dungeon beneath it. Jania, already accustomed to the cold, made her way down, her heels clicking on the stone steps. The air was damp, and the faint echo of her steps only heightened the eeriness.

When she reached the bottom, two guards stood at attention, flanking a large iron door. They stepped aside as she approached, allowing her entry.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, casting long shadows against the cold stone walls. The men who had been captured during the earlier fight were chained to the far wall, their expressions a mix of fear and defiance. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and the air carried a faint metallic scent of blood.

Jania surveyed the room, her eyes narrowing as she assessed each of the prisoners. They were a ragtag group, none of them particularly remarkable at first glance. It was a pity they took the wrong job.

She approached one of the men, a large, muscular brute who had been the most resistant during the fight. His lip was split, and a bruise darkened one of his eyes, but he still glared at her with defiance.

"Start talking," Jania said calmly, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Who hired you?"

The man spat blood onto the floor and sneered. "Go to hell."

Jania's expression didn't change. She had expected resistance. "Do you know me?"

"Fuck whoever—" Before he could finish speaking, he choked and gasped, fervently trying to get the cuffs off his hands and pry off the slender fingers tightening around his throat with each second.

"Uh-uh," Jania shook her head, her grip tightening. "I'm the one asking questions." Her voice remained calm, almost conversational, as if she weren't choking the life out of him.

The man's eyes widened in panic as he tugged at his chain, his bravado quickly evaporating under the weight of his impending suffocation. Jania leaned in closer, her lips near his ear, her tone cold and menacing.

"You should know, I don't have the patience for stubborn fools. So, you either start talking, or I'll make sure the last thing you see is my hand crushing your windpipe."

She released him abruptly, letting him collapse back against the wall, gasping for breath, his chest heaving. The other prisoners watched in silent horror, realizing now that this woman was far more dangerous than they had anticipated.

"I—I don't know his name," he finally choked out. "We were paid through a middleman. We were just supposed to... to kill the girl."

Jania's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I don't know," the man gasped, "All we were told... was that she needed to die... before she... reached the estate."

Jania stood up straight, adjusting the cuff of her sleeve, her eyes scanning the room. She knew better than to believe him fully, but his fear was genuine enough. Still, she wasn't going to let him off that easily.

"I'll ask one more time," she said, her voice soft but filled with a chilling promise. "Who hired you? Give me a name."

The man hesitated, eyes flicking to his fellow captives as if seeking some kind of solidarity. But none of them spoke, their faces pale with fear.

With a sigh, she reached into her coat and pulled out a slim, silver syringe, holding it up for the man to see. His eyes widened, and a flicker of fear crossed his face.

"This will make you talk," she said softly, stepping closer. "And trust me, you won't like it."

The man's bravado faltered, and he tugged at his chains, trying to pull away from her. "Wait, wait—"

But Jania wasn't interested in his pleas. She injected the serum into his neck with practiced precision, and within seconds, the man's body went rigid. His breathing quickened, and sweat began to bead on his forehead.

The man's jaw clenched as he fought against the effects of the serum, but his body betrayed him. His muscles twitched, and he let out a strained gasp.

Finally, he whispered, "Marcellus." His face contorted in pain as the serum continued to work its way through his system. "That's the name I heard from my boss when he was speaking to someone on the phone."

Jania nodded slowly, her suspicions confirmed. "Good." She turned on her heel and made her way to the door, her heels echoing once more in the cold chamber.

"Make sure they don't leave here alive," she instructed the guards without so much as a backward glance.

At the entrance, a man in a suit with striking Asian features and sleek, slicked-back dark hair was waiting for her, and when she reached him, he bowed slightly and fixed his glasses.

"What are your orders?"

"Find everything you can on the girl."

"More than a background check?"

"Yes," Jania replied, her tone sharp. "The Master would want to know everything, especially why someone like Marcellus would want her dead. Nothing is off-limits."

The man adjusted his glasses, scribbling notes into a sleek tablet. "Understood. And what about Marcellus?"

Jania paused, her expression darkening at the mention of the name. "Call Alessandro, tell him to gather his men and bring Marcellus here."

The man paused, displeasure flickering in his eyes at the mention of the name. "Alessandro?"

Jania glanced at him and smiled. She was one of the few who knew the history between Han and Alessandro.

She sighed and nodded. "Yes, Alessandro. Call him and tell him it's a direct order from the boss."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, if you don't want to face the Master's wrath tomorrow."

Han gave a slow nod, his face betraying no further emotion. "Understood," he said, though there was a noticeable tightness in his tone.

Jania smirked, clearly enjoying the small discomfort she had caused. "Good. Now, I'm going to get some sleep before I pick up Doctor Liam from the airport. Make sure Marcellus is here by dawn."


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