The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 257

There was, of course, the possibility that revealing my identity as the female Alpha could help. But even as I thought about it, I knew it wouldn’t work. I was on Ambrose’s home turf. He had already decided to side with Bianca for whatever reason. I had no way of proving my identity yet, and my father wouldn’t be able to arrive until after the wedding.

By that point, Ambrose’s bride, or someone else, might already have been assaulted.

“Can I help?”

Mia suddenly stepped out from behind a pillar. Judging from the look on her face, she had overheard everything.

I shot to my feet. “Mia—”

“I’ll help, too.” Zane hopped down from a windowed alcove high on the wall, dropping to a crouch before standing. He was smiling his usual smile, but it was tight, and his eyes were dark. He’d overheard, too.

“Guys,” I said, sniffling, “as much as I appreciate the offer, this isn’t your battle to fight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Zane sauntered over to me and cupped my face, tilting it up. He kissed my forehead before I could stop him, then pulled me close. I stiffened for a moment, but then melted into him.

“Of course it’s our battle,” Mia said from beside Zane. “That fucker assaulted you! I’d kill him if you asked me to.”

I laughed, but it was a watery, choked up sound. I pulled back from Zane’s embrace and wiped my eyes again. “I know you would. But I’m not asking you to. Besides, how could you even help? This is the only evidence I have, and Ambrose could chalk it up to literally anything except rape.”

Mia planted her hands on her hips. “Well, then we’ll just need to bait him, won’t we?”

We all turned toward her. “No, Mia,” Zane started. “I’m not letting you—”

“Since when are you the boss of me?” She jutted her chin out indignantly. “I’ll never let him hurt me. Just get him in a compromising position, that’s all.”

Twenty minutes later, Mia and I were standing in the banquet hall once more. We had missed the pre-ceremony prayer, but the official ceremony wasn’t set for another two hours. That left us just enough time to strike.

Ambrose and his bride were sitting at the main table. His bride wasn’t eating—just sitting there, silently picking at her food. Ambrose was cutting his meat with quick, efficient movements and talking to Bianca.

Bianca. She sat next to Ambrose, in the very spot I had once sat with my father. The head of the table. She was dressed like a perfect princess tonight, clad in a rich purple gown that caught the light as she moved. With her red lips, she looked like a big, walking bruise.

But right now, my imposter was the least of my worries. So long as Ambrose continued to get away with what he had done, nothing else mattered.

Mia grabbed two glasses of champagne from the fountain and held one out to me. I took it, and she clinked her flute against mine.

“Let’s do this,” she said, then tilted her head back and drank all of it in one swallow.