Chapter 115

The crisp morning air carried the scent of pine as Lillian stepped onto the balcony of Sebastian Blackwood’s estate. The sun had barely risen, casting a golden hue over the sprawling gardens below. She tightened the silk robe around her, the fabric whispering against her skin.

Last night had been… unexpected.

Her fingers traced the faint mark on her neck—Sebastian’s claiming bite. The memory of his lips against her skin sent a shiver down her spine. She had never imagined being bound to the Lycan chairman, especially not after Donovan’s betrayal.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

“Lillian?” Beatrice’s voice was muffled through the door. “Are you awake?”

Lillian turned, forcing a smile. “Come in.”

Beatrice pushed the door open, her eyes widening as she took in Lillian’s disheveled appearance. “Oh my goddess. You look like you’ve been—”

“Don’t say it,” Lillian groaned, rubbing her temples.

Beatrice smirked, tossing a small velvet box onto the bed. “Sebastian sent this for you. Said you’d need it after last night.”

Lillian hesitated before opening it. Inside lay a delicate silver bracelet, its surface engraved with intricate Lycan runes—protection, loyalty, and something else she couldn’t decipher.

“He marked you, didn’t he?” Beatrice whispered, her playful tone gone.

Lillian nodded, her throat tight. “I don’t know what this means, Bea. He’s not my fated mate. Donovan was, and look how that turned out.”

Beatrice squeezed her hand. “Fate’s a tricky thing. Maybe it’s giving you a second chance.”

Before Lillian could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the room. The door swung open, revealing Victoria, Sebastian’s daughter, her icy gaze locked onto Lillian.

“Father wants you downstairs,” she said coolly. “There’s been… a development.”

Lillian’s stomach twisted. “What kind of development?”

Victoria’s lips curled into a smirk. “Donovan’s here. And he’s not alone.”

The grand hall was eerily silent when Lillian descended the stairs. Sebastian stood at the center, his broad shoulders tense, his golden eyes burning with restrained fury. Across from him, Donovan lounged in a chair, his arm draped possessively around Evelyn’s waist.

But it wasn’t them that made Lillian freeze.

It was the woman beside them—Isabella Fontaine, Beatrice’s estranged sister, her crimson lips curved in a mocking smile.

“Ah, Lillian,” Isabella purred. “How lovely to see you again. Though I must say, you’ve certainly… upgraded.” Her gaze flicked to Sebastian, lingering a second too long.

Sebastian’s growl reverberated through the room. “Enough games. Why are you here?”

Donovan leaned forward, his smirk widening. “We’ve come to negotiate. You see, Isabella has information—information about your late wife’s death.”

Lillian’s breath hitched. Sebastian’s entire body went rigid.

“And in exchange?” Sebastian gritted out.

Donovan’s eyes gleamed. “We want Lillian back.”

The room erupted into chaos.

Lillian barely registered Beatrice’s gasp or Victoria’s furious snarl. All she could see was Sebastian’s face—the raw, unchecked rage twisting his features.

Then, his voice cut through the noise like a blade.

“Over my dead body.”

Isabella laughed, the sound like shattering glass. “Oh, Sebastian. That can be arranged.”

The morning sun cast golden streaks across the lavish Blackwood estate as Lillian stirred beneath silk sheets. Her body ached from the previous night's training session with Donovan, but the pain was nothing compared to the storm brewing in her heart.

Downstairs, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with Lucien Dubois' signature croissants. Giselle Beaumont, the head maid, moved with practiced efficiency, arranging breakfast with military precision. "Miss Lillian," she called up the grand staircase, "Mr. Blackwood requests your presence in his study before your morning classes."

Lillian groaned, rolling out of bed. The marble floor was cold beneath her bare feet as she padded to the ensuite bathroom. The mirror reflected dark circles under her hazel eyes—evidence of another sleepless night spent replaying Donovan's cruel rejection.

She dressed quickly in a tailored blazer and knee-length skirt, the Blackwood Academy uniform clinging to her curves. As she descended the staircase, the portrait of Sebastian's late wife, Penelope, seemed to follow her with judgmental eyes.

Sebastian's study door stood ajar. Inside, the Lycan chairman sat behind his mahogany desk, his piercing blue gaze locked on a stack of documents. Oliver, his seven-year-old son, perched on the edge of the desk, swinging his legs.

"You're late," Sebastian remarked without looking up.

Lillian bristled. "Your summons wasn't exactly scheduled."

Oliver giggled, earning a warning glance from his father. "Beatrice called," Sebastian said, sliding a sealed envelope across the desk. "She claims it's urgent."

Lillian's fingers trembled as she broke the wax seal. The note contained three words in Beatrice's messy scrawl: He's watching you.

A chill ran down Lillian's spine. She crumpled the paper. "Where's Victoria?"

"With her fiancé," Sebastian said darkly. "Where she belongs."

The words hung between them like a challenge. Lillian's wolf stirred, sensing the unspoken tension. Before she could respond, Theodore Whitmore appeared in the doorway. "Sir, Alpha Harrison is here. He insists on speaking with Miss Lillian about... last night's incident."

Sebastian's knuckles whitened around his pen. "Tell him she's unavailable."

"But sir—"

"Now, Theodore."

As the butler retreated, Oliver tugged at Lillian's sleeve. "Don't be sad," he whispered. "Daddy's just grumpy before coffee."

Sebastian's glare could have melted steel. "Oliver. Go find Maria."

The boy scampered off as Lillian squared her shoulders. "What aren't you telling me?"

Sebastian stood abruptly, his imposing frame casting a shadow across the room. "Donovan's been spotted near campus with Evelyn. They're petitioning the council to nullify your mating bond."

The air left Lillian's lungs. "They can't do that."

"They can," Sebastian growled, "and they will—unless we prove he violated werewolf law first." He rounded the desk, stopping inches away. His cedarwood scent enveloped her. "Tell me everything about the night he rejected you. Every detail."

Lillian's pulse raced. That night was a blur of tequila and betrayal, but one memory stood clear: Donovan whispering to Evelyn in the club's VIP section while Cassandra spiked her drink.

As she opened her mouth to confess, the study window shattered.

A silver-tipped arrow embedded itself in the wall behind Sebastian's head.

Lillian's wolf surged forward as a familiar voice echoed from the gardens: "Did you miss me, sweetheart?"

Donovan stepped through the broken window, his golden eyes gleaming with malice. Behind him, Evelyn smirked, twirling another arrow between her fingers.

Sebastian shifted instantly, his massive black wolf knocking Lillian aside as Donovan lunged.

The last thing she saw before chaos erupted was Oliver's terrified face peeking through the doorway—and the glint of silver in Evelyn's palm as she took aim at the child.

"He didn't invite me to the Gala, Victoria," I told her, my brows knitting together in frustration.

Her grin only widened, as if she knew something I didn’t.

"Oh, but he will," she assured me, her voice dripping with confidence. "Trust me. He just asked my father for an invitation for you."

My chest constricted at her words, a mix of dread and something else I couldn’t quite name.

"He asked Sebastian?" I blurted, then immediately caught myself, remembering who was present. Clearing my throat, I tried again, more composed. "He asked your father?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, and he's getting you both tickets," she confirmed. "We'll be going together as a double date. You and Nathaniel, and Donovan."

Donovan.

Of course, I would be stuck with Donovan for the entire night. There was no escaping this, and my stomach twisted into knots at the thought. To make matters worse, Sebastian would likely be there too. So, not only would I have to endure Donovan and Nathaniel all evening, but I’d also have to face him. Could this night get any more unbearable?

"I don’t really do Galas, Victoria," I admitted, biting my lower lip. "I’ve never been to anything like this before."

"It’s so much fun," she insisted, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "You’re going to love it. And it’s not like you’ll be alone—I’ll be right there with you!"

Despite her infectious enthusiasm, I wasn’t convinced. Sighing, I leaned back in the seat and let her drive us the rest of the way into the city.

She parked outside an upscale boutique, and instead of waiting in the car, Gamma Julian and Beta Marcus followed us inside while the other Gammas took positions outside. Sebastian wasn’t taking any chances this time—not that I blamed him. His daughter had nearly been killed by rogues. Honestly, I was relieved for the extra security, even though I knew they were here for Victoria, not me.

"Miss Blackwood, lovely to see you again," the boutique clerk greeted as we stepped inside. She was a young woman with fiery red curls and striking emerald eyes. "Are you shopping for the Gala this weekend?"

"Hello, Felicity," Victoria replied smoothly. "Yes, I am. This is my friend, Lillian. She’ll be attending the Gala as well—as my cousin’s date."

Felicity’s eyes lit up at the mention of Nathaniel.

"Nathaniel is in town?"

"Yes," Victoria answered simply. "Would you be able to help her find the perfect gown?"

"Of course!" Felicity beamed. "We just received a few new dresses this morning. One, in particular, I think you’ll absolutely adore."

Victoria glided toward the exclusive rack of designer gowns tucked behind the boutique's cashier counter. With practiced elegance, she withdrew the most breathtaking silver dress Lillian had ever laid eyes on.

"Are those genuine diamonds?" Victoria breathed, her fingers tracing the delicate embellishments with reverence.

"Naturally," Felicity replied with a sparkling smile. "This is an original Genevieve Laurent creation. There's only one in existence. When I say it's new, I mean it's never even been breathed on before." Victoria's eyes gleamed as she stepped closer to inspect the gown's intricate craftsmanship.

"Genevieve Laurent's work is always impeccable. This is extraordinary. The diamonds add just the right amount of glamour, and the fabric is so light—it would be ideal for the Gala," she murmured.

"It's also the priciest piece in the store," Felicity cautioned.

"Cost has never been a concern," Victoria mused. She glanced at the price tag without so much as a blink before frowning at the size.

"It's a bit too large for me, though," she noted. "I wouldn't want it altered unless Genevieve herself could do it."

"I heard Genevieve Laurent will be attending the Gala this weekend, but she won't arrive until Friday evening," Felicity said, her brow furrowing. "Her schedule is packed, so I doubt she'd have time for alterations. But we do have excellent in-house designers who could—"

"I wouldn't trust anyone else to handle a Genevieve Laurent gown except Genevieve herself," Victoria interrupted, raising a hand.

She stepped back, then turned her gaze to Lillian.

"It looks like it might fit you, though. Why don't you try it on and see?" she suggested.

Lillian gaped at her in disbelief. Try on this exorbitant, one-of-a-kind masterpiece? Was Victoria insane?

"I... uh... I don't think that's a good idea," Lillian stammered.

"This dress deserves to be seen at the Gala, Lillian," Victoria insisted. "Please, just try it on."

With a reluctant sigh, Lillian finally gave in.

Felicity accompanied her to the dressing room, carefully helping her into the gown without disturbing its delicate structure. The moment the zipper glided up and the seams settled into place, Lillian felt transformed. The dress embraced her curves with effortless grace, as if it had been tailored just for her.

When she turned to face Felicity, the boutique clerk gasped, her face lighting up with awe.