The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 331

She let out a short laugh. “Fair enough.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder. I didn’t feel the need to just hand over forgiveness just like that. And I wasn’t going to pretend that one apology erased months of being on the receiving end of everything that had happened. Jessica had been cruel to me, and had stood by on far too many occasions while Bianca abused me. She wasn’t exonerated just because she suddenly developed a conscience.

But I also wasn’t going to hold it against her forever. I appreciated the apology, and I couldn’t entirely blame her. She did think Bianca was a princess, after all.

With that, Jessica turned to leave. But then she paused, and turned back to me.

“Look, I don’t know exactly what she’s planning. I just know that she is planning something.”

I stared at her. Before I could ask questions, she left.

I stood there for a moment in the empty room after she was gone. Bianca was planning something; that made sense. Bianca had been too quiet lately. But a naive part of me had hoped she wasn’t up to anything, so hearing it out loud from someone who knew her quite well was like a cold bucket of water rushing over my head.

I found Mia in our room that evening, sitting cross-legged on her bed with a textbook open in her lap, although she was typing furiously on her phone. She quickly hid her phone when I walked in.

“Talking to Zane?” I laughed, dropping my bag on my desk chair.

Mia blushed. I flopped onto my bed with a sigh, scrubbing my hands over my face.

“You look like something’s on your mind,” she pointed out.

“Jessica warned me about Bianca. Said she’s planning something.”

“And in other news, the sky is blue and the sun rises in the east…?”

I snorted. “Tell me about it.”

The training center was almost empty by the time I got there that night after dinner. There were a couple of students finishing up some drills on the far end of the room, but by the time I had wrapped my hands and found my way to one of the free-standing punching bags, they had grabbed their bags and headed out.

The door swung shut behind them, and then there was just me. The room was quiet. In a strange way, the punching bag was almost intimidating. I hadn’t used one in a long time, not since my wolf disappeared.

I remembered how Marcus used to train me at the palace; how he would quietly tell me to picture someone’s face, someone I really hated, and let the emotions do the rest. It was always cathartic, even if my father said it was an unhealthy coping strategy.

I shut my eyes, picturing Bianca’s face.

Before I knew it, my fist pulled back and wailed on the punching bag hard enough to make it rattle the chains.