The Rejected True Heiress (Liora) novel Chapter 78

Bianca

Do you know what’s worse than a broken heel during your entrance?

A royal trumpet blaring when your life is clearly not ready for it.

The second I stepped out of the bathroom—glowing, refreshed, a literal goddess in gold chiffon—I heard it. That cursed brass screech.

The Alpha King.

My stomach did a flip. Not the cute kind. The about to vomit your legacy all over the marble floor kind.

Why?! Why was the royal family coming here?

Oh.

Right.

Only problem was…

I launched myself into the crowd. I needed Callum. Now. This very instant.

Where was he?!

We need to do the proposal before the Alpha King showed up. Solidify our union. Make it official. Lock it in before...

Before the old man stole the spotlight.

That’s all. That’s the only reason.

Because I deserved this. I deserved to win.

Ugh, gods! Where was he?!

I scanned the ballroom, smiling like I wasn’t in a full-blown crisis. Where was that stupid, brooding prince with a hero complex and a problem following orders?

He was supposed to be at my side! Holding my hand! Slipping a damn ring onto my finger!

The ring I picked out, mind you. Delicate. Tasteful. Diamond-heavy! Not too flashy, but enough to scream “Hey Liora, choke on it.”

Instead? People were looking at me for answers. Worse, some were whispering about her.

“Did you see Liora’s dress?” one girl whispered to another, all wide-eyed and breathless. “It was actually… kind of prettier than Bianca’s.”

I stopped mid-strut. Turned. Slowly.

The girl didn’t make it three steps before someone accidentally spilled red punch all over the front of her cheap lace. Tragic.

Good to know I still held rule in this court.

But even as I watched her squeal and trip over her own heels, I felt it. That crack. Subtle as a hairline fracture, but real.

The ballroom was shifting. Not dramatically. Just enough to make my heels wobble and my blood boil. I straightened my back. Raised my chin. Doubled my pace.

Focus. Find Callum. Shut this down.

But then, two girls. Freshmen, clearly. All glitter lids, trembling voices, and the kind of nerves you can smell from three feet away. And they had the audacity to step directly into my path.

“Um—Bianca?” one of them squeaked.

Here we go.

“Is it true?” she continued, eyes wide and stupid. “Was her last name really… Silverthorne? Are you two, like… related? What happened?”

Liora.

That traitorous, backwater, hand-me-down-wearing, discount-destiny brat.

She’d dropped that name like a bomb and walked away smiling, the smug little cockroach.

Of course she had something planned. Of course she waited until tonight, my night, to crawl out of whatever mossy little bog she came from and try to steal the crown with some dramatic last-name-drop like she was starring in a soap opera.

I blinked slowly, gave them the kind of smile that could make national news. Polished and perfect, like I wasn’t internally setting things on fire with my mind.

“Liora likes attention,” I said sweetly, like I hadn’t just mentally slapped someone. “That’s all this is. She’s desperate, poor thing. You’ll see, I’ll be making an official announcement soon to clear up this whole little performance.” I lowered my voice to a fake-conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t let rumors rattle you, sweethearts. They’re so… unbecoming.”

That should’ve been the end of it. Should’ve.

But the younger, uglier one, you know the type: too much blush, not enough personality, had the gall to raise her hand. Like we were in a classroom.

“B-but Bianca, she—”

I raised my hand too. Not gently. “I’m busy. Shoo.”

They scattered like pigeons in heels, which honestly, they sort of were.

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