Transmigrated Into The True Heiress
Chapter 156: Left To Exploit (Ya’ll Can Unlock)

Chapter 156: Left To Exploit (Ya’ll Can Unlock)

Meanwhile, Natalie descended the stairs, her face set in a deep scowl. Anger simmered beneath her composed exterior, directed at everyone involved in this mess—at her father for imposing such a severe punishment on Celine, at Celine for being reckless enough to provoke the wrong person, but most of all, at Ephyra Allen.

That insufferable girl had single-handedly thrown their family into turmoil. The video from the masquerade party played on repeat in Natalie’s mind, each damning revelation fueling her frustration.

Who the hell was backing Ephyra Allen?

There was no way a girl with no power, no standing, and no formal influence could have orchestrated such a calculated, devastating downfall of both the Allens and the Lathams. Someone was behind her, pulling the strings.

Natalie’s frown deepened. If her father wanted to handle this one way, fine—but she had her own methods. She would dig into Ephyra’s background, uncover the force supporting her, and ensure the girl paid for what she had done.

Lost in thought, she was abruptly pulled back to the present by a mocking voice from the bottom of the stairs.

"Well, well. If it isn’t my ever-gorgeous older sister."

Natalie’s head snapped up, and the scowl on her face deepened when she saw the man waiting for her.

"Fuck off, Benard. I don’t have the patience for you right now," she snapped, quickening her pace as she reached the last few steps.

Benard Carver smirked, clearly amused by her irritation. He was impeccably dressed, as always—his dark, tailored suit fitting him perfectly, his hair neatly styled—but the sharp glint in his eyes betrayed his habit of poking at wounds just to watch them fester.

"Now, now, is that any way to treat your darling younger brother?" he drawled, stepping directly into her path. "You do know I’m the only one in this house who truly cares about you."

Natalie let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh, please. I’ll believe that the day hell freezes over. Now move."

But Benard didn’t budge. His smirk widened. "I heard our dear Celine has managed to disgrace the family name so badly that Father is shipping her off. Tell me, is that true?"

Natalie narrowed her eyes. "You seem well-informed already, so why bother asking?"

"I just wanted confirmation," he replied smoothly. "And perhaps... to know exactly where she’s being sent."

Natalie let out an exasperated sigh, crossing her arms. "Oh, how touching. Playing the role of the doting uncle now, are we?" Then, her lips curled into a mocking smirk. "A shame you’re so hopelessly incompetent at playing the role of a husband. Not because you lack the ability, of course, but because you simply don’t want to."

Benard’s jaw tightened, but before he could fire back, Natalie continued, her voice laced with feigned innocence.

"Come to think of it, you weren’t even in the country this past month, were you?" She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You just got back, didn’t you? I wonder... does your wife even know? Ah, probably not. But then again, why would she care? She gave up on your whoring ways a long time ago."

Benard’s smirk faltered for just a second, and Natalie seized the moment, counting off on her fingers.

"Let’s see... a months-long ’business trip,’ hopping from country to country, visiting one mistress after another—quite the itinerary. And yet, during all that, your son was nearly kidnapped."

Benard’s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second before he regained his composure. "Tsk, you always had a sharp tongue, Natalie. No wonder Father never truly trusted you."

She let out a low chuckle, crossing her arms. "And yet, you’re the one standing here, playing concerned uncle while your own wife and son are suffering. Tell me, dear brother, do you even know what your son likes to eat? Or do you only remember your mistresses’ preferences?"

Benard’s expression darkened. "You should watch your mouth."

"Or what?" Natalie tilted her head mockingly. "You’ll throw a tantrum? Please, I don’t have time for your pathetic attempts at intimidation." She pushed past him, making sure to bump his shoulder.

Benard turned, his voice low and taunting. "Just be careful, dear sister. You’re so focused on blaming others for Celine’s downfall, but you’re not seeing the bigger picture. That girl, Ephyra Allen... she’s not just lucky. She’s dangerous."

Natalie paused but didn’t turn around. "And? What exactly are you trying to say?"

Benard chuckled. "I’m saying that if you’re not careful, you might end up just like Marianna Allen. And we both know how that turned out."

A chill ran down Natalie’s spine, but she masked it with a scoff. "Worry about yourself, Benard. I know exactly what I’m doing."

Then She tilted her head, her tone deceptively light. "Tell me, dear brother, how did it feel to know that your mistresses were more important to you than your own child’s life?"

"I’d say it’s pathetic," she added over her shoulder, "but then again, I’ve always had low expectations for you."

Benard remained rooted to the spot, his hands clenched into fists.

Natalie didn’t care. She had more pressing matters to deal with.

Bernard turned and watched as Natalie walked out of the double doors then he sneered.

"Uncle, what a surprise to see you." Riley stepped into the living room, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes on his lips

Benard turned at the sound of his nephew’s voice, his sneer shifting into a more neutral expression. Riley Carver stood just inside the grand foyer, hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored vest, his stance relaxed yet deceptively sharp. The resemblance to his late mother was unmistakable—same piercing eyes, same poised demeanor—but unlike her, there was something far more calculated in his gaze.

"Riley," Benard greeted, his tone measured. "I didn’t expect to see you here so early."

Riley took a few steps forward, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh? And why is that? This is my home, after all."

Benard scoffed, rolling his shoulders as he regarded the younger man. "Your aunt just left in a foul mood. I assume you already know why."

"I might have an idea," Riley said airily. He tilted his head, eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Celine’s little... mishap has caused quite the stir. Grandfather isn’t too pleased."

Benard chuckled dryly. "That’s an understatement. He’s furious. And rightfully so." He took a step closer, lowering his voice slightly. "Tell me, Riley, what do you think about all this? Your dear cousin’s downfall? Your aunt’s desperation to fix it?"

Riley held Benard’s gaze, his smirk never wavering. "I think," he said smoothly, "that Celine is a fool who overestimated her importance. And my aunt—" He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Well, she never did know when to cut her losses."

Benard arched a brow. "You’re surprisingly cold about this."

"Am I?" Riley hummed, stepping past his uncle and toward the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip. "I’m simply being realistic."

Benard studied his nephew for a long moment before letting out a short laugh, though there was a hint of unease beneath it. "You really are your mother’s son."

Riley smirked over the rim of his glass. "Flattery, Uncle? I wasn’t expecting that."

Benard’s expression hardened slightly, but the wary flicker in his eyes remained. "It wasn’t a compliment."

Riley only chuckled, taking another sip. "If I don’t take it as a compliment, then you wouldn’t be in a favorable position Uncle. I’m sure you don’t want that."

Benard laughed but Riley didn’t so he stopped and watched Riley, then exhaled sharply. "Tell me something, Riley. What do you think of Ephyra Allen?"

At that, Riley finally set his glass down. His smirk remained, but his eyes darkened slightly.

"She’s interesting," he admitted.

Benard narrowed his gaze. "Interesting?"

Riley leaned against the cabinet, arms crossing over his chest. "She’s not just some vengeful girl with a grudge. She’s calculated. Precise. And unlike Celine, she knows how to pick her battles." He tilted his head slightly. "That’s why she won."

Benard studied his nephew carefully, his usual arrogance dimmed by something warier. Riley was young, but he had the same unnerving presence his grandfather once and still had—the same quiet, restrained power that made people think twice before crossing him.

"And do you think she’ll keep winning?" Benard asked.

Riley chuckled. "That depends, doesn’t it?"

Benard’s lips curved into a knowing smirk, though his fingers twitched at his sides. "On what?"

Riley lifted his glass again, his gaze sharp as he took another slow sip.

"On whether she has any more weaknesses left to exploit."

For the first time in their conversation, Benard genuinely smiled—but there was a trace of unease beneath it.

Perhaps, like Peter, Riley was simply playing a much longer game.

But there was something Riley didn’t say.

It wasn’t only whether Ephyra Allen had any more weaknesses left to exploit but also if the person behind her continued supporting her. But from what Riley knows, that won’t stop.