The Rejected True Heiress (Liora) novel Chapter 111

“It is a bad thing,” I snapped. “That place is locked for a reason. What happened to you being the responsible one? You’re starting to sound like me.”

His mouth twitched, close to a smirk. “Relax, Zane. No one gets hurt reading old books.”

“Right. And next week you’ll be sneaking her into the Headmaster’s office just to admire the décor. But only if it’s for Liora, huh?”

“That’s dramatic.”

“No—what’s dramatic is you standing here like some knockoff official while—”

The green door opened. The scent hit again.

We both turned.

Liora stepped out, sliding a small journal into her bag. Her honey-glazed eyes found me—and narrowed.

“Zane?” she said coolly. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

That little fire in my spine flared hotter. Why was she standing behind him like that? Like he was her shield?

I blinked. “Nice to see you too.”

She ignored me, tilting her head toward the hall. “Let’s go,” she said to Callum, her voice softening in a way that made my teeth clench.

And he went. Just like that. Fell into step beside her, leaning close, talking low—like they’d been doing it forever.

What was this? Did he not care who saw them? What about Bianca? Didn’t they reject the bond? Then why the hell did it look like they were closer than ever?

Before I could stop myself, my hand shot out, catching Liora’s arm.

She froze, shoulders stiff. When she turned, her eyes weren’t just cold—they were glacial. The kind of cold that burned.

For a second, I almost let go.

Almost.

Callum was there a heartbeat later, stepping between us so fast it felt like he’d been waiting. His hand clamped around my wrist.

“Zane. Let go of her.” His voice was low, meant for me alone. No humor this time. No calm. Just steel.

The same tone he used right before throwing a punch.

I tightened my grip on Liora, daring him to flinch. He didn’t.

“I just want to talk to her,” I said.

“She doesn’t,” he answered, steady as stone. “Now let go. Before I make you.”

For a moment it was a standoff—his hand locked on my wrist, mine still on her arm. Liora’s eyes flicked between us, jaw tight, silent.

Then his grip tightened, sharp enough that my fingers loosened by reflex. I let go, shaking him off with a glare.

Callum didn’t move until he was sure I wouldn’t try again. Only then did he shift, body angled fully between us.

Liora didn’t even look back. She adjusted her bag and walked off beside him, heads bent close as they disappeared around the corner.

Callum. Check.

And yet—apparently I still have to prove myself to these loser girls.

“Alpha Female this, Alpha Female that.” Like I’m their mascot. Or free therapist for their tragic little love lives. Newsflash: I don’t do free therapy. And I don’t care.

I’m not your counselor. Not your shoulder to cry on. And I’m definitely not here to listen to you whine about some guy ignoring you. Maybe try looking like me, then we’ll talk.

And the worst part? They act like being Alpha Female means sitting pretty, nodding at speeches, setting examples. Ugh. Playing humble is exhausting. I can’t even roll my eyes without whispers that I’m “unapproachable.”

Well. Maybe I am.

Not everyone should get to approach me.

So, walking with my usual entourage, I decided: fine. If they want me to “prove” myself again, I’ll do it—on my terms. With style. With a spotlight. Something unforgettable.

Thus, my perfect idea: a sparring demo on the quad.

Women of Strength.

My idea, obviously.

A chance to remind everyone why I’m the Alpha Female. Not just Callum’s fiancée. Not just beautiful. But strong, fierce, and the total package.

Naturally, I owned the spotlight.

The quad was flawless—the grass trimmed, sun angled to catch the sheen in my ponytail. The crowd gathered, forming a ring around the lawn. And me? Positioned dead center, where every eye had no choice but to land.