Chapter 220

The morning sun cast golden streaks across the marble floors of Sebastian Blackwood's penthouse as Lillian stirred awake. Her limbs tangled in silk sheets that smelled faintly of cedar and something distinctly Sebastian. The events of last night flooded back - the gala, the whispered threats from Donovan, Sebastian's protective embrace that had lasted far longer than necessary.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Lillian?" Giselle's crisp voice carried through the door. "Mr. Blackwood requests your presence in the dining room. There's... a situation."

Lillian's bare feet hit the cold floor as she scrambled for her discarded dress. The urgency in the head maid's tone sent adrenaline coursing through her veins. She found Sebastian standing rigid by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his knuckles white around a crumpled newspaper.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," he said without turning, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Care to explain why my ex-fiancée's face is splashed across Page Six with claims you pushed her down a staircase?"

Lillian's breath hitched. "That's impossible! Victoria left the gala perfectly fine last night!"

Sebastian finally turned, revealing dark circles under his stormy eyes. "Yet here we are. The Winslows are demanding retribution, and the board is calling an emergency meeting." He tossed the paper onto the glass coffee table where the headline screamed: "LYCAN HEIRESS ATTACKED BY ROGUE WEREWOLF."

The door burst open before Lillian could respond. Oliver charged in, his small face flushed. "Dad! Aunt Penelope says there's reporters everywhere and we can't go to school and-" His wide eyes locked onto Lillian. "Are you really in trouble?"

Sebastian's jaw tightened as he scooped up his son. "Everything's under control, champ. Why don't you help Lucien make those chocolate croissants you love?"

As Oliver scampered off, Sebastian's phone buzzed incessantly. He glanced at the screen and cursed. "Donovan's giving interviews. Claims he warned me about your violent tendencies." His gaze burned into Lillian. "This reeks of setup."

Lillian's fingers trembled as she scrolled through her own phone. Social media had exploded with #JusticeForVictoria hashtags. Campus forums she'd frequented now featured threads debating whether werewolves belonged in human society at all. The most damning post came from Cassandra - a blurry photo of Lillian near the grand staircase captioned: "Some people will do anything to climb the social ladder."

The intercom crackled. "Sir?" Marcus's voice held uncharacteristic tension. "Alpha Harrison's here with the Winslow family. They're demanding... well, they're demanding Miss Lillian be handed over for disciplinary action."

Sebastian's canines elongated. "Like hell." He grabbed Lillian's wrist. "We're leaving through the service elevator. Marcus will stall them."

"But running makes me look guilty!" Lillian protested even as Sebastian dragged her toward the back hallway.

His grip tightened. "And staying makes you dead. The Winslows don't play fair, darling. Not when their precious bloodline's at stake."

As the elevator doors closed, Lillian caught a glimpse of Oliver peeking around the kitchen doorway, his small face crumpled in confusion. The last thing she heard before descending was Archibald Winslow's booming voice: "That mongrel has until sundown to turn herself in, or we'll tear this city apart to find her."

The game had changed overnight. And Lillian wasn't sure even Sebastian could protect her from what came next.

The morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes of Lillian's bedroom, casting golden streaks across the rumpled sheets. She stretched languidly, her muscles protesting slightly from last night's training session with Sebastian. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted upstairs, mingling with the faint aroma of bacon - Lucien must have started breakfast early today.

Downstairs, the mansion buzzed with unusual activity. Giselle directed a team of maids carrying floral arrangements through the grand foyer while Theodore coordinated security details with Marcus near the entrance. Lillian paused at the top of the marble staircase, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.

"Good morning, Miss Lillian," Theodore greeted with his usual impeccable timing, looking up from his tablet. "Mr. Blackwood is expecting you in his study after breakfast."

Her stomach fluttered at the mention of Sebastian. Even after all these months, the mere thought of him sent her pulse racing. "Thank you, Theodore. Is Oliver up yet?"

"The young master is already in the garden with Miss Victoria," he replied, adjusting his cufflinks. "They're preparing for today's... special occasion."

Lillian frowned. Special occasion? She'd been so preoccupied with her final exams and pack duties that she'd completely forgotten if there was some event scheduled. Before she could ask, Beatrice burst through the front doors, her arms laden with shopping bags and her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"There you are!" Beatrice exclaimed, nearly dropping a Tiffany-blue box in her haste. "I've been calling you for hours! We have so much to do before tonight!"

Lillian caught the tumbling box with werewolf reflexes. "What's happening tonight?"

Beatrice's eyes widened comically. "You can't be serious. The annual Blackwood Gala? The event everyone in high society kills to get invited to?" She grabbed Lillian's wrist and dragged her toward the east wing. "We have exactly," she checked her diamond-encrusted watch, "seven hours to turn you from campus werewolf to Lycan royalty."

As they rounded the corner, Lillian nearly collided with a solid chest. Strong hands steadied her shoulders, and she didn't need to look up to recognize Sebastian's distinctive sandalwood and leather scent.

"Running late, little wolf?" His deep voice rumbled against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Beatrice immediately straightened, suddenly very interested in her manicure. "I'll just... go set up in your room," she muttered, making a hasty retreat.

Lillian tilted her head back to meet Sebastian's piercing gaze. The morning light caught the silver streaks in his dark hair, making him look every inch the powerful Lycan chairman he was. "You could have reminded me about the gala," she accused lightly.

His lips quirked in that infuriatingly sexy half-smile. "Where would be the fun in that?" He leaned down, his breath warm against her cheek. "Besides, I enjoy watching you flustered."

Before she could retort, his phone buzzed. The shift in his demeanor was immediate - his shoulders tensed, his jaw tightened. "I have to take this," he said curtly, already striding away. "Don't be late tonight, Lillian. It's... important."

As he disappeared down the hallway, Lillian caught a whiff of something unexpected beneath his usual scent - the faintest trace of... anxiety? That wasn't like Sebastian at all. Whatever was happening tonight, it was clearly more than just another society event.

Her phone chimed with a text from Beatrice: Get your butt up here NOW. We have a crisis - Celeste Devereaux just arrived unannounced and she's wearing YOUR color scheme.

Lillian groaned. Just what she needed - a showdown with the famous actress who'd made no secret of her designs on Sebastian. Whatever secrets tonight held, one thing was certain: this gala would be anything but ordinary.

Lillian was about to learn that lesson the hard way.

Everywhere she turned, eyes followed her. The whispers were relentless, the stares unbearable. She had tried to keep her head down, but how could she when the entire campus had seen the scandalous headline? According to the tabloids, she was in a serious relationship with Sebastian Blackwood—something that couldn’t be further from the truth.

He had texted her that morning, assuring her he would handle it, telling her not to worry. But the damage was already done. The article had spread like wildfire, and now, everyone had an opinion about her love life.

Her stomach twisted with humiliation. The worst part? It was all a lie. She and Sebastian weren’t together. They were just… keeping things uncomplicated. Casual. Nothing more than physical. But explaining that to the entire school would only make both of them look worse, so she kept her mouth shut.

"It’s not as bad as you think," Beatrice said, looping her arm through Lillian’s. "Seriously. People will move on soon enough."

Lillian shot her a skeptical look, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. "How can you be so sure?" she muttered, hugging herself. "This was supposed to stay private."

Beatrice shrugged, glancing around at the students who kept sneaking glances at them. "Trust me. Something juicier will happen, and then no one will even remember your name."

Lillian exhaled sharply. "I hope you’re right."

They parted ways, and Lillian forced herself through each class, though it was impossible to focus when she could feel the gossip swirling around her. The only thing keeping her sane was the thought of seeing Sebastian after school. He would fix this. He had to.

She waited outside the school gates, alone. Beatrice had an after-school study session, so Lillian stood by herself, tapping her foot impatiently. She checked her phone with a frown—Frederick was never late. Usually, he was already waiting for her before she even stepped outside.

Sinking onto a nearby bench, she propped her elbows on her knees, her mind racing. The media frenzy, the whispers, even the way her professors had eyed her today—it was all too much.

Then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her.

Her breath hitched.

It wasn’t Frederick’s car.

The door swung open, and her entire body went rigid as a familiar figure stepped out.

"Tell me it’s not true," Donovan demanded, striding toward her.

Lillian’s pulse spiked. "Donovan?" she choked out, disbelief flooding her. What was he doing here? They were in public. If he caused a scene now, it wouldn’t just ruin his reputation—it would destroy any chance he had left.

And yet, here he was.

Staring at her like she had betrayed him.

Like she was the one who had walked away.

The tension in the air was suffocating as Donovan blocked my path, his dark eyes burning with fury. I could practically feel the heat radiating off him, his jaw clenched so tightly I feared his teeth might shatter.

"I saw the news, Lillian," he spat, shaking his head as he stepped closer, invading my personal space. "Tell me it's not true. Are you really involved with him?"

I crossed my arms, tilting my chin up defiantly. "Whether it's true or not, it's none of your business."

His lip curled in disgust, his face twisting into something ugly. "None of my business?" he repeated, voice dripping with venom. "He's going to be my father-in-law! Do you have any idea how twisted that is? I can't believe you'd stoop so low!"

A bitter laugh escaped me. "You left me for another woman, Donovan. What I do now is my choice, not yours." I took a step back, my patience wearing thin. "I don’t know why you’re here, but this harassment needs to stop."

I moved to walk past him, my pulse racing. Frederick wasn’t here yet, but anywhere was better than standing in front of Donovan’s wrath.

He wasn’t having it.

His hand shot out, fingers digging into my arm as he yanked me back, forcing me to face him. His grip was bruising, his breath hot against my face as he snarled, "I won’t let you go back to him, Lillian. You were mine first, and I’m not letting you go that easily."

The possessiveness in his voice sent a chill down my spine.

But I wasn’t the same weak girl he’d left behind.

I wrenched my arm free, glaring up at him. "I don’t belong to anyone—least of all you."

His eyes darkened, a storm brewing in their depths.

And I knew this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.