Chapter 119

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sebastian Blackwood’s penthouse suite. Lillian stretched lazily in the king-sized bed, the silk sheets cool against her bare skin. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm croissants drifted in from the adjoining dining area, making her stomach growl.

She turned her head to find Sebastian already dressed in a tailored navy suit, his dark hair slightly tousled from sleep. He was scrolling through messages on his phone, his sharp jawline set in concentration.

"Morning," Lillian murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

Sebastian glanced up, his piercing silver eyes softening as they landed on her. "Good morning, little wolf." He set his phone aside and leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Sleep well?"

"Mm. Too well." She smiled, stretching again before sitting up. The events of last night—the gala, the whispered threats from Donovan, the way Sebastian had pulled her possessively against him—flashed through her mind.

Sebastian’s expression darkened as if reading her thoughts. "Donovan won’t be a problem for long."

Lillian bit her lip. "He’s still your daughter’s fiancé."

"For now." His tone was icy, promising retribution.

A knock at the door interrupted them. "Alpha, your car is ready," Marcus Grayson’s deep voice called from the other side.

Sebastian straightened, adjusting his cufflinks. "We’ll discuss this later. For now, I have a meeting with Alpha Harrison."

Lillian frowned. "The one who tried to—"

"Yes." His jaw clenched. "And he’ll regret it."

She shivered at the lethal promise in his voice.

Sebastian turned back to her, his gaze softening again. "Stay here today. Rest. I’ll have Sophia bring you breakfast."

Lillian nodded, though unease prickled at her. Something felt off.

As Sebastian left, she reached for her phone, scrolling through messages. One from Beatrice stood out:

"Lil, we need to talk. Meet me at the café. It’s urgent."

Lillian’s pulse quickened. Beatrice never used the word urgent lightly.

She dressed quickly, opting for a simple sundress and sandals. Just as she was about to leave, Sophia Delacroix entered with a tray of food.

"Miss Lillian, the Alpha insisted you eat before—"

"I’ll eat later," Lillian interrupted, grabbing a croissant. "Tell Sebastian I had to meet Beatrice."

Sophia hesitated but nodded.

The moment Lillian stepped outside, the hairs on the back of her neck rose.

Someone was watching her.

She scanned the street, her werewolf senses on high alert. A shadow moved in the alley across from the building—too fast for a human.

Lillian’s grip tightened on her phone.

Donovan?

Or someone worse?

She quickened her pace, heart pounding. Whatever Beatrice needed to tell her, it couldn’t wait.

And neither could the danger stalking her.

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sebastian Blackwood’s penthouse suite, illuminating the scattered papers on his desk. His fingers drummed impatiently against the polished mahogany surface, his wolf restless beneath his skin.

Lillian had been avoiding him since their last argument—the one where he’d foolishly let his temper get the better of him. He shouldn’t have snapped at her, shouldn’t have let his frustration over the pack’s politics bleed into their conversation. But the moment she’d mentioned Donovan’s name, something inside him had snapped.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted his brooding.

“Enter,” he growled.

The door swung open to reveal Marcus Grayson, his Beta, looking unusually tense. “Alpha, we have a situation.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “What now?”

“Donovan’s been spotted near the university. He was seen talking to Evelyn near the west gate.”

A low, dangerous rumble escaped Sebastian’s throat. His claws lengthened, digging into the arms of his chair. “And Lillian?”

Marcus hesitated. “She was there. She saw them.”

Sebastian was out of his seat before the words fully registered. His wolf surged forward, demanding action. If Donovan thought he could slink back into Lillian’s life, he was sorely mistaken.

“Gather the guards,” Sebastian ordered, already striding toward the door. “I want eyes on her at all times.”

Marcus nodded sharply. “Already done. But, Alpha—”

Sebastian paused, his hand gripping the doorframe. “But what?”

“She left campus in a hurry. Looked upset. Beatrice tried to follow, but Lillian took off before she could catch up.”

Sebastian’s blood ran cold. If Donovan had said something to her—if he’d dared to hurt her again—

“Find her,” he commanded, his voice a lethal whisper. “Now.”

Lillian didn’t know where she was going.

Her feet carried her blindly through the city streets, her pulse roaring in her ears. The sight of Donovan and Evelyn together—laughing, touching—had sent a sharp, unexpected pain through her chest.

Why did it still hurt?

She had Sebastian now. She had a mate who cared for her, who protected her, who—

Who you just ran away from without a word.

Guilt twisted in her gut. She should’ve stayed. Should’ve talked to him. But the moment she’d seen Donovan’s smug face, something inside her had shattered.

A familiar scent hit her nostrils—warm spice and cedarwood.

Sebastian.

She spun around, her breath catching as she found him standing mere feet away, his golden eyes blazing with barely restrained fury.

“Running away again?” His voice was rough, edged with something raw.

Lillian swallowed hard. “I wasn’t running. I just—needed air.”

Sebastian closed the distance between them in two strides, his hands gripping her shoulders. “Don’t lie to me.”

She flinched at the intensity in his gaze. “I saw Donovan.”

His grip tightened imperceptibly. “I know.”

“He was with Evelyn.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. “And?”

Lillian exhaled shakily. “And nothing. It shouldn’t matter. But it does.”

For a long moment, Sebastian said nothing. Then, with a growl, he pulled her against his chest, his arms wrapping around her in a possessive embrace.

“It matters,” he murmured against her hair, “because you still care. But he’s not your mate anymore. I am.”

Lillian buried her face in his shirt, breathing him in. “I know.”

Sebastian tilted her chin up, his gaze fierce. “Then prove it.”

And before she could respond, his lips crashed down on hers in a kiss that left no room for doubt—no room for anyone else.

Not even Donovan.

The Gala was even more breathtaking than I had envisioned—and impossibly crowded. The moment our limousine rolled up to the grand entrance, where a line of elegantly dressed guests waited, the paparazzi swarmed us like vultures. Camera flashes exploded in my face, nearly blinding me, and Nathaniel had to grip my hand tightly to guide me through the chaos.

Reporters shouted questions about Victoria’s gown, but when they caught sight of me, one particularly sharp-eyed journalist recognized Genevieve Laurent’s signature design and immediately turned their attention to me.

I opened my mouth, ready to answer, but Victoria swiftly intervened.

"Don’t engage with them," she murmured under her breath, her grip on my arm firm. "They’ll twist your words into something scandalous before you can blink."

I pressed my lips together and nodded, swallowing my response.

We approached the security checkpoint, where Donovan presented the invitations for himself and Victoria. The guard scrutinized them for a moment before stepping aside with a respectful nod.

Nathaniel handed over our tickets next, and after a brief inspection, the guard motioned for us to proceed. With a charming smile, Nathaniel offered me his arm, and I looped mine through his, my pulse fluttering at the warmth of his touch.

Inside, the ballroom was a dazzling spectacle—crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light over masked guests in glittering gowns and tailored suits. The music swelled, a rich symphony that vibrated through the floor. I couldn’t recognize a single face behind the elaborate masks, though I doubted I’d know anyone even without them.

"This place is… incredible," I breathed, craning my neck to watch the ribbons of light dancing across the vaulted ceiling. "Like something out of a dream."

"First time at a Gala?" Nathaniel asked, arching a brow in amusement.

I flushed. "Is it that obvious?"

His lips quirked. "Guess we’re both new to this, then."

I blinked in surprise. "You’ve never been to one either?"

He shrugged, the movement effortlessly casual. "Not an American one. I’ve attended a few in France, but nothing quite this… extravagant." His gaze flicked over the opulent surroundings before returning to me. "Work keeps me too busy for social events most of the time."

"So, what exactly are we supposed to do here besides stand around looking decorative?" I teased.

Nathaniel smirked. "We drink expensive champagne and pretend to enjoy small talk with the elite."

I laughed, and his grin widened.

"Speaking of drinks," he said smoothly, "can I get you something?"

"Please," I said. "Anything but champagne."

His brows lifted. "Not a fan?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Too bubbly. Makes me sneeze."

Nathaniel chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Noted. I’ll find you something better."

As he disappeared into the crowd, I exhaled, my fingers brushing the delicate fabric of my gown. The night had only just begun—and already, it felt like anything could happen.

"Not exactly," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a slow, knowing nod before flashing me a mischievous grin. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he murmured, winking before turning on his heel and striding toward the bar.

Victoria materialized beside me, looping her arm through mine with practiced ease. "There you are, Lillian," she chimed, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "Come, we have a reserved table."

My gaze flickered past her, landing on Donovan already seated at the table, his piercing eyes locked onto me. A bitter taste flooded my mouth as I forced my legs to move, trailing behind Victoria like a reluctant shadow.

This was going to be an excruciatingly long night.

Sebastian's POV

"Mr. Blackwood, how generous will your donation be this year?"

"Mr. Blackwood, who tailored your suit?"

"Are you accompanied by anyone special tonight?"

The paparazzi's questions blurred into white noise as I strode past them, my expression unreadable. The security guard barely glanced at me before stepping aside, well aware of who I was.

Pausing just inside, I reached into my pocket and retrieved my mask, securing it over my face before continuing into the gala.

These events were nothing short of tedious, but as the primary benefactor, my presence was non-negotiable. The staff scurried about, balancing trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres while guests in their finest attire mingled beneath the glittering chandeliers.

Women preened as I passed, their lashes fluttering, their postures deliberately accentuating their curves. I ignored them all, my focus elsewhere.

The bar was my first stop—until I spotted Nathaniel ordering drinks. If he was here, then Lillian was too.

Instinctively, my eyes found her.

She sat stiffly at a table with Donovan and Victoria, looking as though she'd rather be anywhere else. Victoria was chattering away, oblivious to Lillian's discomfort, while Donovan’s gaze never wavered from her.

A surge of irritation burned through me. His attention should be reserved for my daughter—not her.

Was I really going to have to remind him of that again?

And what was Lillian thinking? Wearing that dress, knowing full well this place would be crawling with unmated males—and her ex-fated mate, no less. It was almost as if she wanted his eyes on her.

"Uncle?" Nathaniel's voice snapped me back to reality.

I turned my sharp gaze on him, offering nothing more than a curt nod.

He hesitated, then smiled tentatively. "I'm glad you came. I hope you don’t mind that I brought Lillian. I know you have reservations about staff relationships, but she’s different. I really like her. I might even be..." He swallowed. "In love with her."

The words hit me like ice water.

Falling Hard?

Could Lillian truly be falling for someone like Nathaniel? The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

Nathaniel had a reputation—one that preceded him like a shadow. He fell fast, fell hard, but his affections were as fleeting as summer storms. One moment he was whispering sweet nothings, the next, his attention had already wandered to someone new.

And yet...

Lillian's pulse betrayed her, quickening at the mere memory of his stupid, charming grin.

Pathetic.

She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. How could she—a girl who prided herself on her sharp instincts—be so blind? Falling for a man who treated love like a revolving door?

But the heart, it seemed, had a will of its own.

And hers?

Hers was a traitor.