Chapter 157

The morning sun cast golden streaks across the lavish bedroom as Lillian stirred beneath silk sheets. Her fingers brushed against the empty space beside her—Sebastian had already left for his early meeting. A pang of loneliness tugged at her heart, but she quickly shook it off. Today was important.

Downstairs, the mansion buzzed with activity. Giselle, the head maid, directed staff with quiet efficiency while Lucien, the flirtatious head chef, winked at Lillian as she entered the dining room. "Morning, Luna," he teased, sliding a plate of freshly made croissants toward her. "Special recipe, just for you."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "You're incorrigible."

Beatrice burst into the room, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "You won't believe what just happened!" she gasped, clutching her phone. "Isabella's fashion show got featured in Vogue Paris! They called her 'the rising star of the season'!"

Lillian's eyes widened. "That's amazing! We have to celebrate—"

Her phone buzzed sharply, cutting her off. An unknown number flashed on the screen. Her stomach twisted as she read the message: "You don't belong there, little wolf. He'll discard you like the others."

The croissant turned to ash in her mouth.

Beatrice frowned. "Lil? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Lillian lied, forcing a smile. But her fingers trembled as she deleted the message. Someone was watching her. And they wanted her gone.

Meanwhile, in his office, Sebastian scowled at the financial reports spread across his desk. Marcus, his Beta, cleared his throat. "The Winslows are making moves again. Rumor has it they're trying to sway the council against you."

Sebastian's grip tightened around his pen. "Let them try." His phone vibrated—a notification from the security team. His blood ran cold as he saw the screenshot of the threat sent to Lillian.

"Find out who sent this," he growled, his Lycan aura flaring. "Now."

Marcus nodded sharply and left.

Sebastian stared out the window, his mind racing. Someone was targeting his mate. And if they thought they could intimidate her, they were sorely mistaken.

He would burn the world down before he let anyone hurt her.

Back at the mansion, Lillian paced her room, her thoughts a tangled mess. The message, the Winslows, the whispers at school—it all felt connected. A knock at the door startled her.

"Come in," she called, expecting Beatrice.

But it was Donovan who stepped inside, his expression unreadable. "We need to talk."

Her pulse spiked. "About what?"

His smile was razor-thin. "About the secrets you're keeping from Sebastian."

The air left her lungs.

How much did he know?

And more importantly—what would he do with that knowledge?

The morning sun filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of Sebastian Blackwood's private study, casting golden streaks across the antique mahogany desk where Lillian sat fidgeting. Her fingers traced the intricate carvings on the armrests of the leather chair that smelled faintly of sandalwood and power.

"Relax, little wolf," Sebastian murmured without looking up from the documents he was signing. The way his silver fountain pen glided across the parchment made her stomach flutter. "You're not in trouble."

Lillian swallowed hard. "Then why did you ask me here before breakfast?"

Across the room, Theodore Whitmore discreetly adjusted the thermostat, his movements silent as always. The butler's presence was both comforting and unnerving - a reminder that nothing in this mansion went unnoticed.

Sebastian finally set down his pen, those piercing amber eyes locking onto hers. "We have a situation with Donovan."

The name sent ice through Lillian's veins. She hadn't seen her former fated mate since the disastrous engagement party where he'd publicly rejected her for Evelyn. "What's he done now?"

"Not him." Sebastian's jaw tightened. "His father. Archibald Winslow has filed a formal complaint with the Council about our... arrangement."

Lillian's breath hitched. She knew this day would come - the day their secret relationship would face scrutiny from the Lycan elite. "What does that mean for us?"

Before Sebastian could answer, the study doors burst open. Oliver came barreling in, his school tie already askew at 7:30 AM. "Dad! Victoria won't let me have the last chocolate croissant!"

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oliver, we're in the middle of-"

"Actually," Lillian interrupted, standing abruptly. "I should go check on Beatrice. She was supposed to meet me for breakfast twenty minutes ago." The excuse tumbled out too quickly, but she needed air, needed space to process this new threat to their fragile happiness.

As she hurried toward the door, Sebastian's voice stopped her. "Lillian." That single word held a world of unspoken promises and warnings. "We'll continue this conversation tonight. My room. 9 PM."

The heat in his gaze made her toes curl in her slippers. "Yes, Alpha," she whispered before escaping into the hallway.

Outside, the mansion buzzed with morning activity. Maids carried fresh linens, chefs discussed the day's menu, and through it all, Lillian felt the weight of invisible eyes following her every move. Were they judging her? Pitying her? Waiting for her to fail?

She nearly collided with Marcus Grayson at the grand staircase. The Beta's usual friendly smile was absent today. "Lillian," he nodded curtly. "You should know - the Winslows aren't the only ones asking questions."

Her heart plummeted. "Who else?"

But Marcus just shook his head. "Not here. Meet me at the east garden after lunch." With that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving Lillian with more questions than answers.

As she descended the stairs, her phone buzzed. A text from Beatrice: Emergency! Meet me at the gazebo NOW. Cassandra's spreading rumors again.

Lillian groaned. Just what she needed - more drama before her first class. But as she pushed through the front doors into the crisp morning air, one thought consumed her: How many enemies would she have to face to keep her place at Sebastian's side?

The real battle, it seemed, was just beginning.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking," I snapped, frustration lacing my tone.

"Talk to me, Oliver," I said more gently as I stepped closer to his bed. "Why are you upset with me?"

Oliver swallowed hard, and I saw the glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes—my chest tightened painfully. Whatever was bothering him... it was serious.

"What did you say to Lillian that made her not want to see me?" His question caught me off guard.

"What?" I blinked.

"Before I passed out, after the Epi... you were furious. I remember you saying something to her. Then everything went black, and I woke up here. It's been days, Dad, and Lillian hasn’t come once. I didn’t even catch her scent when I woke up—which means she hasn’t been here at all. You must have said something to make her stay away from me."

Even young werewolves had an acute sense of smell, and Oliver had always been particularly sensitive to Lillian’s presence. She’d spent so much time with him that her scent had become familiar, comforting. I wasn’t surprised he noticed her absence—but the depth of his distress? That shook me.

"Oliver, you have to understand—I did this for your own good. Lillian is dangerous—"

"Dangerous?" His voice cracked, eyes widening with disbelief before darkening with anger. A look I’d never seen on him before. "Lillian wouldn’t hurt anyone unless they deserved it, Dad. You know that."

I sighed, sinking onto the edge of his bed.

"Look..." I started, scrambling for the right words to soothe him. "Lillian was the one who gave you that sandwich, Oliver. She was careless, and because of her, I almost lost you. I can’t risk having someone like that near my family."

"So you told her to stay away?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but the accusation in it was sharp. "That’s why she hasn’t come. You scared her off. The only tutor I ever actually liked—"

"I can find you another tutor—"

"There’s no one like her, and you know that!" His shout echoed through the room.

I froze, stunned into silence. Oliver had never raised his voice at me like this. Never defied me so openly. And after what she’d done—how could he still defend her?

"You almost died, Oliver," I bit out, harsher than I intended.

"It wasn’t her fault!"

"She gave you the sandwich—"

"And I put the peanut butter in it!" His scream tore through me.

My breath hitched as I stared at him, utterly stunned.

"What did you just say?" The words barely left my lips after a long, heavy silence.

His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "I was the one who put peanut butter in it. I did it behind Lillian's back—she didn’t even know. You're blaming the wrong person. It was my fault..."

I couldn’t speak. My mind spun with questions. How? Why? What?

"I don’t understand..." I finally managed to whisper.

He lowered his gaze, guilt weighing on his small shoulders. "I forgot I was allergic. I just... wanted to try it." His voice trembled. "I was careless. But it wasn’t Lillian’s fault. Please, Dad. Don’t punish her because of what I did. I promise I’ll never do it again... just don’t be angry with her."

A sharp exhale escaped me—I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath.

Lillian was innocent?

She hadn’t known about the peanut butter in the sandwich. I should have listened to her from the start.

Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through my thoughts via mindlink.

"Alpha..." It was Marcus. "We’ve found something new about the peanut butter. The person responsible is already in custody."

My grip tightened.

Who else was involved in this?