Chapter 152

The scene crackled with tension, though Lillian remained blissfully unaware. The sandwich in her hands was her sole focus, the flavors distracting her from the subtle shift in the air.

Victoria moved like a shadow, her steps silent, her intentions hidden beneath a mask of indifference. The drawer slid open with barely a sound, her fingers deftly locating the Epi-pen.

A small, dangerous victory.

Sebastian’s precautions had always been thorough—but even the most careful plans could be turned against him.

And Victoria was very, very good at turning things to her advantage.

The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves as Lillian stepped onto the grand terrace of the Blackwood estate. Her fingers tightened around the railing, the cold metal biting into her skin. The weight of Donovan’s betrayal still lingered, a shadow she couldn’t shake.

Sebastian’s deep voice broke through her thoughts. “You’re brooding again.”

She turned to find him leaning against the doorway, his piercing gaze locked onto her. The moonlight cast sharp angles across his face, emphasizing the strength in his jaw. “Just thinking,” she murmured.

“About him?” His tone darkened, a growl threading through the words.

Lillian exhaled sharply. “No. About choices.”

Sebastian pushed off the doorframe and closed the distance between them. His presence was overwhelming, a force of nature she couldn’t ignore. “You made yours,” he said, voice low. “And so did I.”

Her pulse quickened. The unspoken promise in his words sent a shiver down her spine.

Inside, the sound of laughter drifted from the dining hall. Evelyn’s high-pitched giggle grated on Lillian’s nerves. She had no right to be here, not after what she’d done.

Beatrice appeared at the door, her expression tight. “Lillian, you need to see this.”

Curious, Lillian followed her inside, Sebastian close behind. The dining table was strewn with papers—photographs, bank statements, and damning evidence of Evelyn’s treachery.

“She’s been working with Alpha Harrison,” Beatrice hissed. “This whole time.”

Lillian’s stomach twisted. Another betrayal. Another knife in the back.

Sebastian’s hand settled on her shoulder, warm and steady. “We end this tonight.”

The determination in his voice was absolute.

But as Lillian reached for the evidence, a sharp knock echoed through the room. The door swung open, revealing Victoria, her face pale.

“Father,” she gasped. “They’ve taken Oliver.”

The world tilted.

Sebastian’s grip on Lillian tightened, his fury palpable. “Who?”

Victoria’s lips trembled. “Alpha Harrison’s men.”

Lillian’s blood ran cold.

This wasn’t just a betrayal.

It was war.

Victoria's fingers trembled slightly as she retrieved the Epi-pen from its usual spot, tucking it swiftly into her back pocket. She knew she'd need it for what was coming next.

"I've missed our little chats," Lillian murmured, spreading crimson jam across a slice of bread with deliberate care. "I really do consider you a friend, Victoria." The lie tasted bitter, even to her own ears. There was no way Lillian genuinely saw her as a friend. Victoria's stomach churned, but she forced a sweet smile onto her lips and nodded.

"Absolutely. We should make time for a proper catch-up soon," Victoria suggested, watching as Lillian's shoulders relaxed slightly. The tension in the kitchen eased as Lillian layered more jam before pressing the second slice of bread on top. With practiced precision, she sliced the sandwich into triangles—Oliver’s favorite shape.

Lillian moved toward the cabinets, searching for chips.

"I think Oliver prefers the ones in the bottom cabinet," Victoria offered casually, stepping around the counter behind Lillian’s back. As Lillian crouched to check, Victoria reached into the top cabinet, her fingers closing around the jar of peanut butter.

"They're not here," Lillian sighed in frustration.

"Oh, maybe they're on the top shelf," Victoria said with a light laugh, unscrewing the peanut butter lid behind her back.

Lillian shut the lower cabinet and stretched upward, rifling through the top shelf while Victoria dipped her finger into the peanut butter. With a quick flick of her wrist, she pried open one of the sandwich triangles and smeared a thin layer of peanut butter over the jam. She repeated the motion with the other half.

The sound of the cabinet door clicking shut made Victoria spin around, exhaling in relief when she saw Lillian’s attention fixed on pouring apple juice into Oliver’s favorite Star Wars cup.

Seizing the moment, Victoria licked the remnants of peanut butter and jam from her fingers, erasing the evidence just as Lillian turned back to the plate. Their eyes met.

"Are we really okay?" Lillian asked, her voice laced with something unreadable.

Victoria’s smile didn’t waver. "Of course."

But beneath the surface, the game had only just begun.

Victoria forced a smile onto her lips.

"Never better," she lied.

Lillian looked relieved and offered her a faint smile as she picked up the plate from the counter.

"I'm glad we talked," Lillian murmured before turning toward the parlor door.

"Me too..." Victoria said, her aura darkening the moment Lillian left the kitchen. She exhaled sharply, relieved she hadn’t been caught. This was the price she had to pay to get Lillian out of the Blackwood estate for good. There was no way her father would let her stay if he suspected for even a second that Lillian posed a threat—especially not after poisoning Oliver.

She quickly screwed the lid back onto the peanut butter jar and was about to step into the parlor to witness her plan unfold when a blood-curdling scream tore through the air.

Her pulse spiked. She rushed into the parlor—only to freeze at the sight before her.

Oliver was on the floor, his face swelling like an overripe tomato, his small hands clawing at his throat as he gasped for air. Victoria had thought she was prepared for this moment, but the last time this had happened, she’d been a child herself—too young to be the one responsible for saving him. She barely remembered the panic, the terror of discovering his allergy.

But this? This was worse than she’d imagined. His wheezing breaths, the way his lips tinged blue—it was horrifying.

"Victoria!" Lillian’s voice was sharp with desperation, and from the way she shouted, it wasn’t the first time she’d called for her. "Do you have an EpiPen?!"

Oliver tried to speak, but each attempt only made his breathing more ragged. Tears streamed down Lillian’s face as she cradled him in her arms, her entire body trembling. She whispered soothing words to him, but the panic in her eyes was unmistakable.

Victoria’s fingers twitched toward the EpiPen hidden in her back pocket—but how could she explain having it on her without revealing her guilt? Her legs turned to lead. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

The parlor door burst open. Sebastian stormed in, followed by one of the maids—Sophia, probably, who must have run for help the moment Oliver collapsed. Her father shoved past her without a glance, yanking open the top drawer of the parlor desk and grabbing the EpiPen stored inside.

In one swift motion, he pressed it against Oliver’s thigh and injected the dose.

Within seconds, Oliver’s breathing steadied.

Victoria’s stomach twisted.

She had almost killed her own brother.