Chapter 154

The morning sun cast golden rays through the curtains, rousing Lillian from her restless sleep. She stretched, her muscles aching from the tension that had coiled within her all night. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted up from the kitchen, mingling with the crisp morning air.

Downstairs, Sebastian was already dressed in his usual tailored suit, his sharp features softened slightly by the morning light. Oliver sat at the table, swinging his legs as he munched on toast, his bright eyes darting between his father and Lillian as she descended the stairs.

"Good morning," Lillian murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

Sebastian glanced up, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "You look tired," he observed, his tone laced with concern.

She forced a smile. "Just didn’t sleep well."

Oliver piped up, crumbs dotting his lips. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Lillian hesitated. The truth was, she had dreamed of Donovan again—his cold eyes, his cruel words. But she wouldn’t burden the boy with that. "Something like that," she admitted lightly.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. He set his coffee cup down with deliberate care. "We should talk," he said, his voice low.

Lillian’s pulse quickened. "About what?"

"About what happened yesterday."

Her stomach twisted. Yesterday, she had run into Donovan and Evelyn at the pack’s annual gathering. The encounter had been brief but suffocating, leaving her feeling raw and exposed.

Before she could respond, the front door burst open, and Beatrice stormed in, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "You won’t believe what just happened!" she exclaimed, barely pausing to catch her breath.

Lillian blinked. "What?"

Beatrice grinned. "Isabella just got back from Paris, and she brought us gifts!" She held up a sleek designer bag, her eyes sparkling. "And guess what else? She’s bringing her new boyfriend to dinner tonight!"

Sebastian arched a brow. "Dinner?"

Beatrice nodded eagerly. "Yeah! You’re all invited. It’s going to be amazing."

Lillian exchanged a glance with Sebastian. The last thing she wanted was to sit through an awkward dinner, pretending everything was fine. But Beatrice’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Oliver was already bouncing in his seat.

"Fine," Sebastian relented, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely pleased.

Beatrice clapped her hands. "Perfect! Oh, and Lillian—wear something nice. Isabella’s boyfriend is some big-shot fashion photographer."

Lillian groaned inwardly. Just what she needed—another night of forced smiles and polite conversation.

As Beatrice prattled on about the evening’s plans, Lillian’s mind wandered back to Donovan. His smirk, his possessive grip on Evelyn’s waist. The way he had looked at her—like she was nothing.

A hand brushed against hers, startling her. She looked up to find Sebastian watching her, his expression unreadable. "You okay?" he murmured.

She swallowed hard. "Yeah. Just thinking."

His fingers curled around hers, warm and steady. "Don’t let him get to you."

Easier said than done. But for now, she’d focus on getting through the day—one step at a time.

And tonight?

She’d face whatever came next.

"I... I apologize," Marcus said, lowering his gaze. "It was an oversight, and it won't happen again. I'll ensure the issue is resolved by tonight."

"What good does that do now?" Sebastian snarled, turning fully toward him, his crimson eyes burning with barely restrained fury. "My son was poisoned, and we have nothing—no footage, no leads, nothing."

"I’ll investigate thoroughly," Marcus assured him, voice steady. "At least Oliver is alive."

"If I had been a second later—"

"But you weren’t," Marcus cut in firmly. "Focus on the positive."

Sebastian’s back was rigid, his broad shoulders trembling as he exhaled sharply. The air between them crackled with tension.

After a weighted silence, Sebastian finally spoke, his voice dangerously low. "Find. Out. Everything."

"Yes, Alpha," Marcus replied with a stiff nod. His gaze flickered toward me, wary, before he swiftly exited the room, leaving me alone with a seething Sebastian.

I didn’t know what to say. My entire body trembled as I watched him pace like a caged predator, his movements sharp, erratic. He scanned the room, his gaze landing everywhere but on me, and the avoidance twisted my stomach into knots. The composed, controlled man I had begun to know was gone—replaced by a storm of rage that made my skin prickle with unease.

Finally, he stopped. His piercing eyes locked onto mine, and the intensity in them sent a shiver down my spine.

"You were reckless with my son’s life," he hissed through clenched teeth, his glare sharp enough to cut.

"Sebastian—"

"Alpha!" he roared.

I flinched, my breath hitching as I dropped my gaze.

"Alpha," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I don’t know what happened. I—"

"What happened," he bit out, each word laced with venom, "is that my son was given peanut butter. He had an allergic reaction. I trusted you to protect him, and you failed."

"No, I—"

"Are you telling me you didn’t hand him that sandwich?"

"I’m saying I didn’t know there was peanut butter in it!" My voice cracked as tears spilled down my cheeks.

He scoffed, his lips curling in disgust, and the knot in my stomach tightened painfully.

"It was your responsibility to check everything before letting him eat," he said slowly, as if speaking to someone incapable of basic comprehension.

I opened my mouth, desperate to defend myself, to explain—but he cut me off with a sharp, dismissive wave of his hand.

"Frederick will take you home."

"But—"

"Now."

The finality in his tone left no room for argument. My chest ached as I swallowed my protests, my vision blurring with unshed tears.

I had failed. And now, I was being cast aside.

"I don't want to see you in my estate for the foreseeable future," Sebastian Blackwood said coldly, his voice sharp as a blade.

My chest tightened painfully—he wasn’t just banishing me from his home. He was cutting me out of his life entirely.

"Go," he commanded, his finger pointing toward the door like a judge delivering a sentence. "And stay away from my family."

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts, and I lifted my tear-streaked face to see my mother standing in the doorway. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and dark circles shadowed her eyes—proof of sleepless nights. I had barely left my room for days, alternating between numbness and uncontrollable sobbing.

She assumed my devastation was because of the move.

But the truth? The last place I wanted to go was the Winslow estate—Donovan’s family home. Yet, with no other options, I had no choice.

Three days.

Three days without a single word from Sebastian.

My mother had already sold our house—to one of Eleanor Winslow’s friends—and we were expected to vacate by sundown. I had spent yesterday packing, and now my room was stripped bare, save for a few scattered clothes and my bed.

"Come downstairs," my mother urged gently. "Let’s have lunch together. One last meal in this house."

I wiped my damp cheeks with the back of my hand. "I’m not hungry."

She sighed and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"I know you’re upset about moving," she murmured, sitting beside me. "But this is what’s best for us. Once your father is released and we’re back on our feet, we can leave the Winslow mansion. I just need you to be patient."

As much as I hated this move, it was nothing compared to the agony of Sebastian’s rejection.

I had called the hospital yesterday, desperate to check on Oliver. But the moment I gave my name, the nurse snapped, "You’re not permitted to visit. Do not call again." Then, the line went dead.

Sebastian ignored my calls. Victoria had blocked my number.

I was completely cut off.

Lost.

Hopeless.

"Lillian, sweetheart," my mother coaxed, rubbing my back. "Let’s eat something. Then we can talk about what comes next."

I already knew what came next.

Hell.