The Rejected True Heiress (Liora) novel Chapter 66

“Callum!” Bianca’s voice sliced through the air, rising above the music and soft conversation below. “Where did you go?!”

And just like that, the spell broke.

The tension in my shoulders returned. The weight. The roles.

Who was I kidding?

Liora was done with me. Done with the silence, the empty glances, the almosts. And she deserved to be. She deserved to be happy.

I stepped back from the railing.

I slowly descended the stairs.

“There you are,” Bianca beamed, already reaching for my arm. “I thought you vanished. Ready for our big dance soon? Our annoucment?”

“Of course,” I said with a smile.

But all I could see was thorns the thorns in my vision.

Liora

I was holding a mushroom tart so delicate it nearly slipped through my gloves.

“Ah,” I groaned, “You think they would make these little things more hand friendly.”

Sharp little laughs. Aimed in my direction. Subtle enough to pretend they weren’t. Loud enough that I knew they were.

I ignored them, wiping off the crumbs from my dress. I’d survived worse than girls with glitter lashes and low blood sugar.

I popped another tart into my mouth instead, savoring the savory bite like it was a victory. (Which, frankly, it was. These hors d'oeuvres were phenomenal. Shocking, given the amount of venom in the room.)

“Liora!”

Warmth collided into me in the form of Mia’s arms around my waist.

I smiled, actually smiled, and let her hug me, even as my eyes scanned the ballroom. Just in case.

“You made it! Ah! You look so beautiful,” she whispered, half breathless, like saying it out loud was something sacred. “Like… like a villain I’d root for.”

I huffed a laugh. “I’ll take that.”

Before I could thank her properly, a hush fell over the room.

The principal stepped onto the stage with the same expression he always wore, like someone had just told him the punch bowl was spiked and he wasn’t mad, just disappointed.

Behind him, Professor Tarrow adjusted his cravat with a flourish, looking more then nervous.

“As we kick off the tonight’s festivities,” the principal said, “we’re pleased to announce the results of this term’s entrance exams.”

A ripple of tension passed through the ballroom like a wire snapping taut.

Mia tensed beside me. I took another bite of the tart.

“For the highest score—by a landslide,” Thorne began, “I must extend my personal congratulations to someone I once doubted.”

He scanned the room. Eyes locking on me.

And unfortunately, the ballroom loved blood.

“Too good to be asked, or just too unwanted to be?”

Snickers followed. A few more joined in. A symphony of fake surprise and practiced cruelty.

Mia’s voice wobbled. “Ignore them.”

“I always do,” I muttered.

She touched my arm gently. “We could leave. Go get some air. You don’t deserve this.”

She was right.

But the thing about being wolfless, I’ve discovered, was learning that what you deserve and what you get rarely align.

I turned back to the table, lifted another tart with perfect calm, and took a bite.

“I’m fine,” I said around the food. “Besides, I’ve got bigger problems.”

Mia blinked. “Like what?”

I didn’t answer, because any moment now, he would arrive.

And when my father walked into this ballroom, with all the praise, stares, and aura of a King Alpha—

This small world I’ve built would turn to ash.