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Transmigrated Into The True Heiress

Eira Kingston, a feared assassin, never imagined that death would lead her to transmigrate into the body of Ephyra Allen, the disgraced first daughter of the once-powerful Allen family. But what shocked her even more was the soft mechanical voice in her mind, addressing her as "master" and informing her that her soul had returned to its original body. Eira dismissed the strange voice, thinking she was having a post-death hallucination. But waking up in a hospital, with memories that weren’t hers flooding back, she was forced to confront the truth. Ephyra’s life had been nothing short of a nightmare. Despite being the legitimate daughter, she was labeled a bastard, shunned by all, and overshadowed by her scheming stepsister, who had stolen the love of her father and her betrothed. To make matters worse, the wealth and status the Allen family enjoyed were all thanks to Ephyra’s late mother, and the only reason she hadn’t been discarded entirely was due to her mother’s inheritance, locked away until she turned eighteen. But Eira wasn’t one to be defeated by circumstances. If she was going to live Ephyra’s life, she would do so on her own terms. She would destroy those who had caused Ephyra pain, claim the inheritance that was rightfully hers, and find out who was behind her own death. Because if there was one thing Eira knew how to do well, it was to survive—and make her enemies pay. However, being a high-schooler with nothing to her name wasn’t enough. As Ephyra, she’s powerless, but as an assassin, she’s lethal. Still, even that wasn't enough until she became the contracted wife of Lyle Aelion—a powerful, enigmatic figure in the business world with a secret illness. And it turns out, the only thing that can relieve him is her scent.

Ella_Estrella23 · Urban
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62 Chs

A Slap For The Perfect Son

Alan and Myra walked out of the hotel, Alan hauling their compact suitcases in one hand. The strained silence between them was thick, weighing down like a palpable tension as they moved through the hotel's grand, opulent lobby. Both were lost in their own thoughts: Alan was consumed by worry, unease, and anger at himself, while Myra was worried, regretful, and hopeful.

Alan's face was drawn and tight, his jaw clenched as he wheeled their suitcases, his eyes flicking down to the polished floor as though the answers might be hidden in the tiles. A fog of guilt and confusion clouded his mind, each memory slipping further away the harder he tried to grasp it. Beside him, Myra walked stiffly, her expression guarded. Beneath her controlled demeanor, a storm of anger and triumph twisted together, though she kept her features schooled into a look of quiet suffering.