Chapter 138

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sebastian Blackwood’s penthouse, illuminating the scattered papers on his desk. Lillian stirred in the massive bed, her limbs tangled in silk sheets, the scent of their mating still lingering in the air.

She stretched, wincing slightly at the soreness in her muscles—a pleasant reminder of last night’s intensity. Her fingers brushed over the mark on her neck, the bond pulsing warmly beneath her skin.

Sebastian was already gone, his side of the bed cold.

Lillian sighed, rolling onto her back. The silence of the penthouse was unnerving. No laughter from Oliver, no quiet murmurs from the staff. Just the distant hum of the city below.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Beatrice.

"You alive? Or did the Lycan Alpha finally wear you out?"

Lillian snorted, typing back. "Barely. Where are you?"

"Café downstairs. Get dressed. We have things to discuss."

Lillian dragged herself out of bed, padding to the walk-in closet. Sebastian’s scent clung to everything—his tailored suits, the cashmere sweaters, even the polished leather of his shoes. She pulled on a simple black dress, one of the few things she’d brought with her, and headed for the door.

The penthouse elevator descended smoothly, opening into the lobby of the luxury high-rise. The café was just outside, a chic little spot with marble tables and ivy crawling up the walls.

Beatrice sat in the corner, two steaming cups in front of her. She raised an eyebrow as Lillian approached.

"Damn. You look like you got hit by a truck."

Lillian slumped into the chair, grabbing the coffee. "Feels like it."

Beatrice smirked. "That good, huh?"

Lillian shot her a glare, but her cheeks warmed. "Shut up."

Beatrice leaned forward, her expression turning serious. "Okay, enough teasing. We have a problem."

Lillian frowned. "What now?"

"Donovan’s back in town."

The name sent a chill down Lillian’s spine. Her ex-fated mate—the man who had betrayed her, humiliated her, and left her for Evelyn.

"Why?" Lillian’s grip tightened around the cup.

Beatrice lowered her voice. "Rumor is, he’s trying to challenge Sebastian’s authority. He’s been gathering allies—disgruntled pack members, rival Alphas. He wants the Lycan throne."

Lillian’s stomach twisted. Donovan had always been ambitious, but this? This was war.

"And Victoria?" she asked quietly.

Beatrice hesitated. "She’s still engaged to him. Publicly, at least. But I don’t think she knows what he’s planning."

Lillian exhaled sharply. "Sebastian needs to know."

Beatrice nodded. "Yeah. But be careful. Donovan’s not playing fair anymore."

Lillian’s phone buzzed again. A message from an unknown number.

"Miss me, little wolf?"

Her blood ran cold.

Donovan.

Beatrice saw her expression and snatched the phone. Her face darkened. "That bastard."

Lillian swallowed hard. "He’s watching me."

Beatrice stood abruptly, tossing cash onto the table. "We’re leaving. Now."

Lillian followed, her pulse racing. The game had just changed.

And Donovan had made the first move.

"Mom, you can't be serious!" I gasped, my voice trembling with disbelief. "How could you agree to this?"

"I know it's not ideal, but—"

"Not ideal?!" I cut her off, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.

"Don't raise your voice at me, Lillian," my mother chided, her tone sharp. "We need the money, and I'm running out of options."

"If the Winslows are so eager for you to sell our house, why not just let us borrow the money? I thought you were going to ask them!" I shook my head, frustration boiling inside me. "This makes no sense."

"I couldn't bring myself to ask them," she admitted, sighing heavily. "Especially after Archibald explained his risky investments and his concerns about the outcome." She twisted the towel in her hands. "Besides, my pride wouldn't allow me to beg for handouts."

"But you have no problem asking Donovan for handouts?" I countered, arching a brow.

"That's different," she murmured, avoiding my gaze. "He was your fated mate. You were supposed to marry him."

"Isn't Eleanor your friend?" I pressed, giving her a pointed look. "Why not ask her for help?"

She bit her lip, her eyes dropping to the floor.

"I just... can't. This is the easiest solution, and I’ll still have my dignity. Living here won’t be so bad. They’ve been kind enough to open their home to us, and I intend to accept."

"Is living here not damaging to your pride?" I challenged.

She sighed, finally meeting my eyes.

"It’s different," she said softly. "I’m sorry for upsetting you, Lillian. But if you can’t get the money from Donovan, then this is our only option. After selling the house, we’ll be closer to helping your father. That’s all that matters right now."

Tears welled in my eyes before I could stop them. I didn’t want to cry—not here, in the Winslow manor. Not at all. But the weight of this decision crushed me.

"I can’t live here, Mom," I whispered, my voice breaking.

"Oh, sweetheart," she soothed, reaching for my hand. "If this is about Donovan and Victoria, they won’t be here. Once he becomes Alpha, they’ll move into the packhouse. You won’t have to see them every day." She squeezed my fingers. "And once he marks and mates with her, your bond will be broken. You won’t have to suffer the pain of a severed connection anymore."

"That’s not what this is about," I said, shaking my head. "His family hates me. They’ll make my life unbearable. I was here for five minutes, and Arabella already dumped wine on me."

She sighed, her shoulders slumping.

"I'm certain it was just an accident. Arabella is a sweet girl—she's still so young," my mother insisted, her voice soft with forced optimism.

"She's eighteen, Mom. Legally an adult," I reminded her, my fingers tightening around the edge of the kitchen counter.

"That's hardly grown," she murmured, avoiding my gaze. "I'm sure she didn't mean any harm."

"She told me Donovan deserved better than me," I whispered, the words scraping against my throat. "That I wasn’t good enough for her brother."

My mother sighed, folding the hand towel neatly before tucking it away. When she turned back to me, her hands settled on my shoulders, warm and steady. I lifted my tear-filled eyes to meet hers, and the worry swimming in her gaze made my chest ache. She was afraid—for us, for our future—and I wasn’t making it any easier for her.

I swallowed hard, wiping away the damp trails on my cheeks with the back of my hand.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I know you’re doing your best."

She nodded, exhaling slowly.

"I love you, Lillian," she said softly. "I hate dropping this on you so suddenly. But if you don’t think you can stay here… maybe Beatrice has space for you?"

Her words hit like a physical blow. So, it was either live with the Winslows or find somewhere else to go. My mother had already made her choice—just like everyone else in my life, she wasn’t choosing me. She was leaving, just as Arabella had predicted. Had she known? Was that why she’d thrown those cruel words at me—everyone leaves you?

I bit down on my lower lip, willing the fresh wave of tears to stay at bay. I didn’t want to cry anymore, but the pressure behind my eyes was relentless.

"Let’s just enjoy the rest of the barbecue," she suggested, tilting my chin up gently. Then, as if remembering something, she added, "Oh, by the way… do you know Alpha Sebastian Blackwood? He seemed to recognize you."

My pulse stuttered. I forced myself to shake my head, hating the lie even as it left my lips.

"Not really," I said. "I tutor in his pack sometimes, so we’ve crossed paths. Nothing more than that."

A half-truth—one that settled between us like a fragile truce.