Chapter 172

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sebastian Blackwood’s penthouse, painting the polished marble floors in warm hues. Lillian stretched lazily in the oversized bed, the silk sheets cool against her bare skin. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and something sweet—perhaps croissants—wafted from the kitchen, making her stomach growl.

She had barely opened her eyes when the door creaked open, revealing Oliver’s mischievous grin. "Morning, sleepyhead!" he chirped, bouncing onto the bed with all the energy of a seven-year-old who had clearly consumed too much sugar already.

Lillian groaned, pulling the covers over her head. "Oliver, it’s too early for this."

"Nope! Dad says breakfast is ready, and if you don’t come now, Lucien will eat all the chocolate croissants."

That got her moving.

Downstairs, the dining room was already bustling. Sebastian sat at the head of the table, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, scrolling through something on his tablet. His sharp gaze flicked up as she entered, and the corner of his mouth lifted in that infuriatingly knowing smirk.

"Finally decided to join us?" he drawled.

Lillian rolled her eyes, sliding into the seat beside him. "Blame your son. He’s the one who kept me up half the night with his ‘secret mission’ to steal cookies from the kitchen."

Oliver gasped dramatically. "You promised you wouldn’t tell!"

Sebastian arched a brow. "Is that so?"

Before Oliver could protest further, Giselle swept in with a tray of steaming pastries, her expression stern but amused. "If I find crumbs in the pantry again, someone’s going on dish duty for a week."

Lillian bit into a croissant, savoring the buttery flakiness, when her phone buzzed. A message from Beatrice lit up the screen:

"Emergency. Meet me at the café in 20. Donovan’s back in town."

Her stomach twisted. Donovan. Just the name sent a chill down her spine. She hadn’t seen him since he’d publicly rejected her at the mating ceremony, choosing Evelyn instead.

Sebastian’s fingers brushed hers as he casually plucked the phone from her grip. His eyes scanned the message, and his jaw tightened. "You’re not going alone."

Lillian snatched her phone back. "I don’t need a babysitter."

The air between them crackled with tension. Oliver, sensing the shift, wisely stuffed another croissant into his mouth and slid out of his chair, muttering something about "adult drama."

Sebastian leaned in, his voice low and dangerous. "Donovan isn’t just your ex, Lillian. He’s a threat. And if he’s back, it’s not for a friendly visit."

She met his gaze, defiance burning in her chest. "Then it’s a good thing I’m not the same weak girl he left behind."

Without waiting for a response, she pushed back from the table and headed for the door. But Sebastian’s next words stopped her cold:

"Fine. But if you’re not back by noon, I’m coming after you—and I won’t be polite about it."

Lillian didn’t look back as she strode out, but she couldn’t suppress the shiver that raced down her spine.

Because she knew he meant every word.

The crisp morning air carried the scent of pine as Lillian stepped onto the balcony of Sebastian Blackwood’s sprawling estate. The sun had barely risen, casting golden streaks across the sky, but she couldn’t sleep—not after last night.

Her fingers tightened around the railing as she replayed the confrontation with Donovan in her mind. His betrayal still stung like a fresh wound, but what hurt more was the smug smirk Evelyn had worn when she’d clung to his arm.

A rustle of fabric made her turn. Sebastian stood in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim light of the bedroom. His silver eyes gleamed with concern. "You’ve been out here for hours," he murmured, stepping closer.

Lillian exhaled sharply. "I needed to think."

Sebastian’s hand settled on her shoulder, warm and grounding. "Don’t let them get to you."

She scoffed. "Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who was publicly humiliated."

His grip tightened slightly. "No, but I am the one who watched you walk away from him with your head held high. That takes strength, Lillian."

She wanted to believe him, but doubt gnawed at her. "What if I’m not strong enough?"

Sebastian turned her to face him, his expression fierce. "You are. And you don’t have to face this alone."

A flicker of warmth spread through her chest, but before she could respond, the shrill ring of her phone shattered the moment. Beatrice’s name flashed on the screen.

Lillian answered, and Beatrice’s frantic voice spilled out. "Lil, you need to get to campus now. Cassandra just posted a video of you and Donovan arguing—it’s everywhere!"

Her blood ran cold. "What?"

Sebastian’s jaw clenched as he caught the gist of the conversation. "We’ll handle this."

But Lillian was already pulling away, her mind racing. If Cassandra had twisted the footage, she wouldn’t just be dealing with heartbreak—she’d be fighting for her reputation.

And this time, she refused to lose.

A soft smile curved my lips.

"How thoughtful of you," I murmured to her. "But I'm quite alright for the moment. Perhaps another time?" She gave a graceful nod.

"Certainly," Giselle replied with that melodic voice of hers, fingers smoothing her pristine apron.

Marcus turned to face me fully.

"I must take my leave now, but Alpha Sebastian will arrive shortly," he assured me, his deep voice carrying that familiar note of authority. "Giselle will show you to your chambers and help you settle in." I dipped my head in acknowledgment.

"My thanks, Marcus," I said sincerely.

With a final courteous bow, the Beta exited the grand estate. I turned to find Giselle watching me with that perpetually pleasant expression, her hands clasped neatly before her.

"It's refreshing to have someone new to attend to," she confessed warmly. "Alpha Sebastian visits occasionally, but the house often feels... hollow after a while. One grows weary of polishing silver that no one uses."

"I can imagine," I chuckled, glancing around the opulent foyer. "I'm happy to be here."

"Shall we?" She gestured toward the sweeping staircase.

As we ascended, Giselle painted a vivid picture of the mansion's amenities with her words - a two-story library with rolling ladders, rose gardens that bloomed year-round, an infinity pool that seemed to spill into the horizon, and of course, the private hot springs. Each bedroom, she explained, was a self-contained sanctuary with its own lavish bathroom. The thought of having personal space again sent a thrill through me.

The second-floor corridor stretched before us, illuminated by crystal chandeliers that cast dancing prisms across the walls. When we reached my designated room, Giselle entered first—

And my breath caught.

The chamber was easily triple the size of my childhood bedroom. But what truly stunned me was seeing all my belongings already arranged with meticulous care—my favorite lilac duvet perfectly draped across the four-poster bed, framed photographs and academic trophies displayed on mahogany shelves, even my well-worn novels lining the built-in bookcases. Just as promised, my school materials and backpack waited on the antique writing desk positioned before floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking panorama of pack territory.

Opposite this, a curved bay window seat overlooked the manicured gardens, beyond which I could just make out the glimmering pool and steaming hot springs.

My cosmetics and hair tools were neatly organized on a gilded vanity. Peeking into the adjoining bathroom revealed all my toiletries precisely arranged around a sunken marble tub and separate rainfall shower.

"The walk-in closet contains your entire wardrobe," Giselle informed me as I emerged. She'd opened the cedar-paneled doors to reveal rows of my familiar clothing—alongside several elegant pieces I'd never seen before.

"These aren't mine," I observed, fingering a silk blouse with French seams.

She nodded and bit her lower lip, hesitating before speaking. "Some of the clothes you brought looked... intentionally ruined," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

I exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Arabella. It had to be her. I wasn’t sure when she’d snuck into my room to destroy my things, but it must have been recently—I hadn’t noticed anything amiss before.

"So, I took the liberty of buying you a few new outfits," Giselle continued, peeking up at me through her lashes. "I couldn’t find exact replacements, so I improvised. I hope that’s alright."

"You didn’t have to do that," I said, shaking my head. "I would’ve managed. I could’ve replaced them myself."

She shrugged lightly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Sebastian insisted. It was his money, so don’t worry about it."

I suppressed another sigh.

I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse, but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. So, I simply nodded and murmured, "Thank you."

"I hope everything meets your expectations," she said, glancing around the room as we stepped out of the walk-in closet.

"It’s perfect, Giselle. Really."

Her expression brightened, clearly pleased with my approval.

"If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to reach out. You can call or text—I already added my number to your contacts," she said, gesturing toward my phone charging on the nightstand. Relief washed over me at the sight of it, and I offered her a grateful smile.

"Unfortunately, we can’t mindlink since you’re not officially part of the pack yet. So, this will have to do for now."

A deep voice cut through the air from the doorway, freezing me in place.

"We could change that." Sebastian leaned against the frame, his gaze intense. "If you pledged yourself to me, that is."