Chapter 179

The morning sun cast golden rays through the sheer curtains of Lillian's bedroom, stirring her awake. She stretched languidly, her muscles still sore from yesterday’s intense combat training. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted up from the kitchen, making her stomach growl.

Downstairs, Donovan was already seated at the dining table, his expression unreadable as he sipped his espresso. Evelyn sat beside him, her fingers entwined with his possessively. The sight made Lillian’s chest tighten, but she forced a polite smile.

"Good morning," she murmured, sliding into her seat.

"Sleep well?" Donovan asked, his tone indifferent.

"Like a log," she lied, reaching for the toast.

Beatrice burst into the room then, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "You won’t believe what just happened!" she exclaimed, waving her phone. "Sebastian Blackwood just announced a charity gala—and guess who’s invited?"

Lillian’s fork stilled mid-air. "Us?"

"Not just us—the entire campus!" Beatrice squealed. "It’s happening this weekend at the Blackwood Estate!"

Donovan’s grip on his cup tightened. "Interesting timing," he muttered.

Lillian ignored him, her mind racing. A gala meant formal wear, socializing, and—most importantly—Sebastian. She hadn’t seen him since their last heated argument, and the thought of facing him again sent a thrill down her spine.

Evelyn smirked. "I suppose you’ll need a dress. Too bad you can’t afford anything decent."

Before Lillian could retort, Beatrice linked arms with her. "We’re going shopping. Now."

As they left, Donovan’s voice followed them, laced with warning. "Don’t embarrass yourself, Lillian."

Outside, Beatrice huffed. "Ignore him. We’re getting you something stunning."

Lillian exhaled shakily. The gala was her chance—to prove herself, to confront Sebastian, and maybe, just maybe, to reclaim what was once hers.

But fate had other plans.

Because as they turned the corner, a sleek black car pulled up beside them. The window rolled down, revealing Sebastian’s piercing gaze.

"Need a ride?" he asked, his voice dripping with quiet intensity.

And just like that, the game changed.

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sebastian Blackwood’s penthouse, illuminating the spacious living area where Lillian sat curled up on the plush sofa. A steaming cup of coffee rested on the table in front of her, untouched. Her fingers absently traced the rim of the mug as her mind wandered back to last night’s confrontation with Donovan.

She had expected anger, betrayal—anything but the cold indifference he had shown. It stung more than she cared to admit.

The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. Sebastian strode into the room, his dark hair slightly tousled, as if he had just run his fingers through it in frustration. His sharp blue eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension.

"Did you sleep at all?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Lillian shook her head. "Not really."

Sebastian exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "Donovan’s a fool."

She let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, well, he made his choice."

Silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid. Then, Sebastian moved closer, his presence commanding yet oddly comforting. "You deserve better than him."

Lillian looked up, meeting his gaze. "And what if I don’t know what ‘better’ looks like anymore?"

A slow, dangerous smirk curled his lips. "Then maybe it’s time you found out."

Before she could respond, the shrill ring of her phone shattered the moment. Beatrice’s name flashed across the screen.

Lillian hesitated, then answered. "Bea?"

"Lil, you need to get to campus now," Beatrice’s voice was urgent, breathless. "Cassandra just posted something online—something bad."

A cold dread settled in Lillian’s stomach. "What did she do?"

Beatrice’s next words sent a chill down her spine.

"She leaked the photos."

Lillian’s blood ran cold.

Sebastian’s expression darkened as he caught the shift in her demeanor. "What happened?"

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the phone. "We have a problem."

And just like that, the fragile peace of the morning shattered.

Victoria was in the kitchen grabbing a quick snack when she heard muffled laughter drifting from the parlor. Her brows furrowed as she set down her glass and moved toward the sound. The villa had been unusually quiet for the past week—mostly because Oliver had been recovering in the hospital. Even after his return, the atmosphere remained subdued. She and Donovan had been spending more time here because of it.

When she reached the parlor door, a familiar voice sent ice flooding through her veins.

No…

It couldn’t be.

She shoved the door open, and her entire body locked up at the sight before her. Lillian sat on the couch, Oliver beside her, their heads bent over a textbook. Whatever they were discussing had Oliver dissolving into a fit of giggles. Sebastian lounged in a nearby armchair, watching them with an amused grin. The sight twisted Victoria’s stomach into knots.

No one had noticed her yet.

Lillian wasn’t supposed to be here. She had made sure of it. She had pinned Oliver’s allergic reaction on her—how could her father be so reckless as to let her keep her job? She thought she’d finally rid herself of Lillian, yet here she was, looking more confident than ever. Victoria’s fists clenched at her sides, her nails biting into her palms as she glared at the scene.

Then Lillian’s gaze lifted, sensing the weight of Victoria’s stare. Her smile faltered, replaced by wary concern. "Oh… hey, Victoria," she said carefully, studying the fury etched across Victoria’s face.

The shift in tone caught Sebastian’s attention. He turned, his own expression darkening as he took in his daughter’s rigid posture.

"Victoria," he greeted, voice edged with caution. "Everything alright?"

"Daddy," she ground out through clenched teeth. "Can we talk? Now."

Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and stalked into the hallway. Sebastian sighed but followed, shutting the parlor door behind him. He crossed his arms, watching as Victoria paced like a caged animal, her breaths sharp and uneven.

After a long silence, he finally spoke. "What’s this about?"

Victoria whirled on him. "How could you let that monster back into our home after what she did?!"

"Victoria—"

"She nearly killed Oliver! Does that mean nothing to you?" she snapped, cutting him off before he could defend himself.

"Victoria, listen—"

"No, you listen!" she hissed, stepping closer. "She was careless with Oliver’s life, and it landed him in the hospital. She cannot be trusted!"

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. "You don’t have all the facts."

"I have enough," she spat. "Or are you choosing her over your own family now?"

His eyes flashed dangerously. "Careful, Victoria."

She scoffed, turning away before he could see the tremor in her hands.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

Victoria's voice trembled with fury as she glared at her father. "She can't be trusted! I never want to see her here again!" Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.

Sebastian exhaled deeply, running a hand through his dark hair as he studied his daughter. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. "I know you're upset, but just hear me out," he said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing in Victoria's eyes.

She finally lifted her gaze to meet his, and Sebastian caught the glimmer of unshed tears. There was something deeper here—something she wasn’t saying. But he knew better than to push. Victoria had always been stubborn; she had to come to him on her own terms.

"How could you let her back in, Dad?" she demanded, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"Lillian didn’t do anything wrong," Sebastian stated firmly, his piercing gaze never leaving hers.

Victoria’s breath hitched. She took a step back, her face draining of color. The reaction was so sudden, so visceral, that Sebastian frowned. But he dismissed the thought just as quickly.

"W-what do you mean?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I mean exactly that," he repeated. "One of the maids confessed. She wanted compensation for helping save his life. I banished her from the pack and turned her into a rogue."

Victoria’s lips parted in shock. "A... a maid confessed?" Her voice was small, disbelieving.

Her mind raced. How? She knew for a fact that the maid had nothing to do with it. She had been the one to slip the peanut butter into the sandwich. The kitchen camera had been conveniently broken—there was no evidence. So why would a maid take the blame?

A sharp pang of jealousy twisted in her gut. Was the maid protecting Lillian? Was Lillian that much better than her? Or worse—had Lillian somehow manipulated the maid into taking the fall so she could slink back into Donovan’s life?

The thought made her blood boil.