The Rejected True Heiress (Liora) novel Chapter 74

Zane

I should've gone with Mia. That was my first mistake.

The crowd in the ballroom had scattered in a dozen directions, whispers cutting through the music like knives.

Callum vanished from my side before I could even ask the guy if he was okay, Liora leaving just as quick.

The Silverthorne name. The rejection. The absolute mess of it all.

I’d lost sight of both Liora and Mia somewhere between the standing ovation and the emotional detonation that followed. One second, she was on that stage—powerful, untouchable—and the next, she was gone. Like smoke. Or a mirage I’d been dumb enough to chase.

Meanwhile, the ballroom had turned into a gossip-infested swamp. Everyone was whispering. Speculating. Choking on her name like it was too fancy for their tongues.

Silverthorne.

Silver-freaking-thorne.

And I, idiot that I am, had just stood there like a stunned bystander at a car crash.

What the hell was going on?

I started searching, ducking in and out of hallways and dim corners like I was in some over-the-top school mystery novel. Velvet curtains. Golden sconces. No Liora. I nearly bulldozed a girl in a lilac dress and tripped over a faculty member’s cane. Then, finally, I found Mia, doubled over and gasping by one of the side halls.

“That way!” she wheezed, one arm flailing toward the garden corridor. “Liora—she ran—I don’t know what’s wrong!”

“I’ve got it!” I called out, already jogging backward. “Catch up when your lungs come back online!”

And then I was sprinting.

Sprinting down halls like a lunatic in pinchy shoes, chasing a girl I couldn’t stop thinking about for reasons I hadn’t even sorted out yet.

Was she lying?

The name Silverthorne wasn’t just a name. It was legacy. It was war-born and gold-plated and handed to only one family in the region. And if that was Liora’s real name… then what the hell had this whole year been?

She said she was wolfless. She acted wolfless. But then again… she fought like someone who’d been trained from the cradle. Beat up half the guys in our grade without breaking a sweat. Outscored the rest in academics. Commanded attention like she didn’t even want it and still got it.

Gods. It would explain so much. Too much.

I nearly tripped on the carpet runner at the bottom of the stairs. My heart was pounding now, and not just from the running.

Because then there was Callum.

Callum wasn’t the type to play along with anyone’s lie, especially not about the bond. And when Liora had said her name—her real name, apparently—and rejected him, something in him shattered.

I saw it. We all did.

Callum stood there like someone had reached into his chest and yanked the soul right out of him, no sedative, no warning.

If that was part of a game… gods, she deserved an Oscar.

But I didn’t think it was.

And that’s what made it worse.

Because if it wasn’t a game—if Liora really was a Silverthorne, really did reject him, really meant everything she said—then this wasn’t just a school scandal.

This was history.

And I was sprinting straight into the middle of it.

“Alright Zane. Let’s just say—hypothetically—she is a princess. Why hide it? Why come here as a wolfless? Why reject her own bond in public?”

“Maybe because all she knows is how to lie,” a voice cut in behind me.

“Liora.” I stepped closer, not bothering to pretend I wasn’t annoyed. “You always manage to be in the same damn place when things go south. Where is she?”

Her arms crossed fast, defensive, but calculated. “Even if I did know, why would I tell you?”

“Because you want to win,” I said plainly. “And if you really want to, you better figure out what game you’re actually playing.”

I leaned in just enough to rattle her composure. “You don’t need more enemies, Bianca. Especially not ones who don’t care about your crown.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, her jaw twitching. I could see the spark in her teeth, the flare of temper rising. For a second, I thought she might actually swing. I kind of wanted her to. But instead—

She scoffed, spun on her heel like a drama queen in a soap opera, and stalked off.

“You never fail to disappoint,” she called over her shoulder, her voice sugar-laced venom. “You and your whole pathetic bloodline. Your family was right about you. Go die in the gardens or something.”

I watched her go, the bounce of her curls irritatingly perfect as her words echoed in my chest.

I’m the princess.

Right. Sure.

I stared after her for a beat, jaw clenched. Was she lying? Was Liora? Was anyone in this cursed school not running a con?

I didn’t know.

Didn’t matter.

What mattered was that Liora was out there somewhere, probably hiding, definitely hurting, and I wasn’t about to waste another second standing around debating royal drama with someone who treated people like set dressing.

So I moved. Fast. My hand shoved open the garden door before my thoughts could catch up. Cool night air hit my face like a slap.

“Hold on, Liora,” I muttered. “We’re coming.”