The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 435

I stared at him. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “My idea?”

“You convinced him. You talked him into this.”

Ambrose laughed. Laughed. Like this was a fucking joke. “You give me too much credit, cousin. Your father came to me.”

I went still.

“That’s right,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I was just as surprised as you were. One day I’m waiting for my trial, and the next, the charges are dropped and the King himself is offering me his daughter’s hand in marriage.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “Who was I to refuse?”

My hands clenched in my lap. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe it or don’t. But it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.”

I studied him for a moment, searching for any sign that he was lying, any crack in his facade. But his expression was open, almost amused. He wasn’t lying. Not this time, anyway.

Had my father really done this? Had my father really gone to Ambrose and offered him this deal, knowing full ywell what Ambrose had done to me and so many others? Knowing what he… was?

I still couldn’t believe it. My father loved me; he took me seriously. He wouldn’t marry me off to a rapist. Just a few months ago, he had given me the liberty of choosing my own match. What changed?

Ambrose leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Thinking about something, darling?”

“I don’t know what you did,” I hissed, “but you did something. You conspired against me, against the crown. I’ll tell my father you—”

“Liora, I didn’t conspire to do anything. Your father made me an offer, and I accepted. That’s all.”

“Bullshit.”

He shrugged. “Think what you want. But I’d recommend not making such baseless accusations so soon into our relationship.”

I clenched my jaw and stared at my plate, my mind racing.

Ambrose picked up his fork again and speared another piece of chicken. He held it out toward me. “Open up.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I insist.”

He leaned forward, bringing the fork closer to my mouth. I pulled back, but his other hand shot out and grabbed the back of my neck, holding me in place.

“I said,” he repeated, “open up.”

I tried to jerk away, but his grip tightened. His fingers dug into my skin so hard it made me gasp.

“Let go of me.”

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