Chapter 171

The morning sun cast golden rays through the curtains, stirring Lillian from her restless sleep. She blinked against the light, her mind still foggy from the previous night's events. The scent of fresh linen and something distinctly Sebastian lingered in the air, grounding her in reality.

She sat up abruptly, heart pounding.

Where was she?

The room was unfamiliar—luxurious, with dark mahogany furniture and plush velvet drapes. A soft knock at the door startled her.

"Lillian?" A deep, velvety voice called from the other side. Sebastian.

She swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the sheets. "Come in."

The door opened, revealing the imposing figure of the Lycan chairman. His storm-gray eyes flickered with something unreadable as he stepped inside, carrying a tray of breakfast—steaming coffee, fresh fruit, and buttery croissants.

"You should eat," he said, setting the tray on the bedside table. His voice was calm, but tension coiled beneath the surface.

Lillian hesitated. "What happened last night?"

Sebastian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his tousled dark hair. "You don’t remember?"

Fragments flashed in her mind—music, laughter, Donovan’s sneering face, then darkness. She shook her head. "Not much."

His jaw tightened. "You were drugged."

Her breath hitched. "What?"

"At the party. Someone slipped something into your drink." His voice turned dangerously low. "If I hadn’t found you when I did—"

Lillian’s stomach twisted. She remembered now—the dizzying sensation, the way the room had spun, the hands grabbing her—

Sebastian’s fingers brushed against hers, startling her from the memory. "You’re safe now," he murmured.

She looked up, meeting his gaze. There was something raw in his expression, something that made her pulse stutter.

Before she could respond, another knock sounded—this time, sharper.

"Sebastian," Marcus’s voice came through the door. "We have a problem."

Sebastian’s expression darkened. He stood, straightening his suit jacket. "Stay here," he ordered, though his tone softened. "I’ll be back soon."

As the door clicked shut behind him, Lillian exhaled shakily.

Safe.

But for how long?

And who had tried to hurt her?

She reached for the coffee, her fingers trembling.

The game had just gotten more dangerous.

The moment we pulled up to the estate, my breath caught in my throat. The mansion was breathtaking—almost as grand as Sebastian Blackwood’s villa. As the car rolled toward the sweeping staircase leading to the entrance, I had to remind myself to close my mouth.

"This place is fully staffed," Marcus Grayson explained, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. "No butler, but you won’t need one. Sebastian assigned Frederick Hastings here as well, so he’ll be your personal driver whenever you need him. He has his own quarters with the staff, so he’s available around the clock. And of course, I’ll be in and out, as will Sebastian."

I nodded, though my mind was spinning. The sheer scale of it all was overwhelming.

"There are four maids here," Marcus continued, "one head maid, a head chef, and two kitchen assistants. Each maid has a specific role—one for laundry, one for cleaning, one for serving, and the head maid oversees everything. Don’t hesitate to ask her for anything. All your belongings have already been moved into your room, including your phone."

Relief washed over me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed my phone until now. I’d left it behind at the Winslow estate, and I’d been dreading the thought of replacing it.

"The maids spent all morning organizing your room and unpacking your things, so you should find everything easily. They even set up your schoolwork on the desk," Marcus added, surprising me further.

"That’s incredibly thoughtful," I murmured, twisting my fingers together. "Thank you for all of this."

Marcus smirked. "Don’t thank me. Sebastian arranged everything. He wanted to make this transition as smooth as possible. I think he feels guilty about the whole Oliver situation. He knows it wasn’t your fault, and the person responsible has already been dealt with."

I nodded. Sebastian had already assured me of that, but hearing it again eased something inside me.

"Will I still be able to see Oliver?" I asked hesitantly.

"Of course," Marcus chuckled. "You’re not getting out of tutoring that easily."

"So… I still have the job?" I asked, barely daring to hope. Sebastian had implied as much, but I hadn’t been sure.

Marcus’s grin widened. "Yes. Oliver refuses to have anyone else. You know he was willing to take the blame just to get you back?"

I blinked. "Wait—what?"

"Before I uncovered the truth, Oliver told Sebastian that he was the one who put peanut butter in his sandwich. Claimed he forgot he was allergic," Marcus said with a laugh.

My jaw dropped. "He lied for me?"

"That kid adores you," Marcus said as he turned off the engine. "It would crush him if you weren’t his tutor anymore."

I nodded, biting my lower lip to suppress the grin threatening to spread across my face. The thought that Oliver would go to such lengths for me sent warmth flooding through my chest. Of course, I would never allow him to shoulder the blame alone. If I had discovered that he’d taken the fall to secure my job, I would’ve marched straight to Sebastian and confessed everything—Oliver had nothing to do with it. But relief settled in my bones, knowing it hadn’t come to that.

"Come on," Marcus said as he stepped out of the car.

I followed closely behind him, my eyes widening as we entered the grand mansion. The interior was just as breathtaking as the exterior—gleaming marble floors, intricate rustic woodwork, and towering ceilings that made me feel small. The design echoed Sebastian’s villa, a clear testament to his refined taste.

But what struck me most was the scent. The entire place carried Sebastian’s signature aroma—rich, commanding, and undeniably alpha. Even amidst the mingling smells of staff, polished wood, and something delicious wafting from the kitchen, his presence was overwhelming. My wolf sighed in contentment, soothed by the familiarity.

A woman approached us immediately, her warm brown eyes crinkling with kindness. She stood about my height, her short, curly chestnut hair pulled back with a simple bandana. Unlike the stiffly uniformed staff at the Winslow estate, she wore a relaxed T-shirt and well-worn jeans, giving off an effortlessly welcoming vibe.

"Hello," she greeted, her voice as sweet as honey.

"Lillian, this is Giselle," Marcus introduced with a nod. "Giselle, this is Lillian. If you need anything during your stay, she’s the one to ask."

I offered a small smile. "It’s lovely to meet you."

"Likewise," she replied, her gaze warm. "I hope everything meets your expectations. If you're hungry, just say the word—I’ll have the kitchen whip up whatever you’d like. Send me a list of your favorite dishes, and I’ll make sure we’re fully stocked."

Her hospitality was genuine, not the stiff formality I’d grown used to. A flicker of ease settled in my chest. Maybe this place wouldn’t feel so foreign after all.