The Rejected Beast Mate: I Am The Royal Heiress

Lyra was in a coma for the entire day due to the pain.

Lyra opened her eyes. The stark white ceiling of the medical pod greeted her. She turned her head slightly. Beside her bed, a temperature-controlled incubator hummed quietly. Inside, baby Nora slept, her tiny silver wolf ears twitching in a dream.

The heavy metal door slid open. The first nurse from yesterday walked in. Her face was tight, her eyes darting away from Lyra's gaze. The open disgust was gone, replaced by a strange, uncomfortable awe. A female who dared to dump an S-grade Commander was no longer just a joke.

"You're awake," the nurse said stiffly. "The Commander is requesting a comms link."

Lyra's face remained blank. She gave a single, slow nod. She had nothing left to say to him, but she needed to finalize the break.

The space beside her bed shimmered. Kaelen's holographic projection materialized. He wore his crisp, black military uniform, standing on the bridge of his flagship.

He looked down at her. His thick brows pulled together in a hard line. His voice was as cold as deep space. "Are you done throwing this tantrum?"

Lyra didn't blink.

"Terminating the contract?" Kaelen let out a harsh breath, his silver eyes flashing with irritation. "Lyra, put away these cheap, hard-to-get tricks. It only makes me look down on you more."

Lyra ignored him. She kept her eyes on the incubator. Nora's small chest rose and fell steadily.

Kaelen's jaw tightened at her silence. "I admit, my absence yesterday was an oversight. But you are an E-grade female. You cannot provide any effective mental pacification for my mental sea. Going there would have been a waste of my time."

He paused. He adjusted his cuffs, his tone shifting into one of arrogant charity. "I had my adjutant transfer one million star coins to your account. Consider it compensation for birthing the cub. Now, go withdraw the termination application."

Lyra finally shifted her gaze. She looked at the hologram. The desperate love that used to burn in her eyes was entirely gone. Only a glacier remained.

She opened her mouth. Her throat was raw, her voice hoarse, but every syllable struck like a hammer. "Kaelen Vane. I am not negotiating with you. The contract will be terminated."

Kaelen froze. His eyes widened slightly. He had never heard this submissive, pathetic female speak to him with such absolute authority.

A second later, his shock morphed into a dark sneer. "Who do you think you are? You are an E-grade. Without my protection, taking that half-beast mutt into the galaxy... do you think you'll survive three days?"

"That is my business," Lyra cut him off. Her heart rate didn't even spike. "Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. The Interstellar Tribunal. I will be there. Whether you show up or not, this contract is dead."

She reached out and hit the red button on the bedside panel. The comms link severed instantly. Kaelen's projection vanished into thin air.

The nurse standing by the door dropped her datapad. It clattered against the metal floor. She stared at Lyra, her mouth hanging open.

Lyra closed her eyes, letting her head sink back into the pillow. Her body ached terribly, but her chest felt lighter than it had in a year. She was free.

At the exact same moment, deep in the lower levels of the medical planet, Chief Geneticist Quentin Starfall stood in his secure lab. His white hair was a mess. He held a small vial of umbilical cord blood extracted from Nora.

It was a routine rejection test. Quentin sighed, rubbing his tired eyes, and slotted the vial into the massive, multi-million-coin genetic analyzer.

He turned his back to log the entry.

Beep.

The machine's steady blue indicator light suddenly flashed a violent, blinding red.

Quentin spun around. The warning sirens mounted on the lab walls began to scream. The energy readouts on the digital display were skyrocketing exponentially.

"Impossible," Quentin gasped. He lunged for the manual override switch.

It was too late. The energy readings smashed through the machine's maximum threshold—the red zone indicating S-grade. The bar shot upward, tearing into a color that hadn't been seen on a monitor in decades.

A blinding, brilliant gold.

Quentin's pupils dilated in sheer terror. He recognized that color. It was a genetic signature recorded only in the most ancient, classified texts of the Royal Academy.

BOOM.

The precision analyzer, built to withstand S-grade energy fluctuations, violently exploded.

A shockwave of golden energy blasted through the room. Every glass beaker and monitor shattered into dust.

Quentin was thrown backward, slamming hard against the metal door. He ignored the sharp pain in his ribs. He scrambled to his hands and knees, his eyes locked on the smoking remains of the main screen.

The final symbol burned brightly through the smoke before the power died.

SSS.

SSS-grade. A mutated pacifier. The only god-tier energy source in the known universe.

Quentin's hands began to shake violently. Not from fear, but from a manic, overwhelming realization. He remembered the lost royal bloodline of the Starfall family. He remembered the unique genetic marker they had been hunting for over twenty years.

He crawled over the broken glass, tearing his palms open, and reached the emergency comms console. His bloody fingers punched in a top-tier encrypted warp-transmission code.

He knew that the second he hit send, the entire political landscape of the galaxy would be ripped apart.

The screen connected. Quentin screamed into the microphone, his voice cracking. "We found her! We found her! Her Highness... Her Highness has returned!"