Chapter 228

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Blackwood estate, illuminating the grand dining hall where Lillian sat across from Sebastian. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, the weight of last night’s revelations pressing down on them.

Oliver, perched on the edge of his seat, swung his legs excitedly. "Papa, can we go riding today?" His bright eyes darted between his father and Lillian, sensing the shift in the atmosphere but too young to fully grasp it.

Sebastian set down his coffee cup with deliberate calm. "Perhaps later, Oliver. First, I need to speak with Lillian." His deep voice carried an edge of authority, though his gaze softened when it landed on the boy.

Lillian’s fingers tightened around her fork. She knew what was coming. The confrontation she had been dreading since the moment she stepped foot into this world of power and secrets.

Theodore, the ever-discreet butler, appeared at Sebastian’s side. "Sir, Alpha Harrison has arrived. He insists on speaking with you immediately."

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. "Tell him to wait."

Lillian’s pulse spiked. Alpha Harrison—the man who had tried to take advantage of her at the bar. The memory of his predatory smirk sent a shiver down her spine.

Oliver, oblivious to the tension, tugged at Sebastian’s sleeve. "Papa, who’s Alpha Harrison?"

Sebastian exhaled sharply. "Someone who doesn’t know his place." He turned to Lillian, his expression unreadable. "We’ll finish this conversation later."

As he strode out of the room, Lillian’s mind raced. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Beatrice burst into the dining hall, her cheeks flushed. "Lillian! You won’t believe what just happened—" She froze, noticing the empty chair where Sebastian had been. "Oh. Where’s Alpha Blackwood?"

Lillian forced a smile. "Dealing with an unexpected guest."

Beatrice leaned in, lowering her voice. "Well, while he’s busy, you need to hear this. Evelyn was seen sneaking into Donovan’s apartment last night."

Lillian’s stomach twisted. So, Donovan had moved on—or at least, he wanted her to think he had.

But why did it still hurt?

A sharp knock at the door interrupted them. Marcus Grayson, Sebastian’s beta, stepped inside, his expression grim. "Lillian, Alpha Blackwood requests your presence in his study. Now."

Lillian exchanged a glance with Beatrice. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good.

As she followed Marcus down the hall, her mind whirled with possibilities. Was this about Alpha Harrison? Donovan? Or something else entirely?

The door to Sebastian’s study loomed ahead, heavy and imposing.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open—and froze.

Because standing beside Sebastian, with a smirk that made her blood run cold, was Donovan.

And he wasn’t alone.

Evelyn clung to his arm, her triumphant gaze locked onto Lillian.

"Ah, there she is," Donovan drawled. "The runaway mate."

Sebastian’s eyes darkened. "Lillian," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "We have a problem."

And just like that, the fragile peace shattered.

The rich red wine swirled in my glass as I took another sip, the warmth spreading through my veins, loosening the tension in my shoulders. My fingers drummed restlessly against the stem of the glass, my gaze flickering yet again to my phone lying face-up on the table. Still nothing. No missed calls. No new messages.

A sharp pang twisted in my chest, and I hated it.

Sebastian was with his family. That was all. It wasn’t like he was losing interest—not that it should matter. This was just a casual arrangement, wasn’t it? A mutually beneficial distraction. A way to keep prying eyes off our backs.

So why did the silence sting?

I exhaled sharply and set my glass down with more force than necessary, pushing my phone away. Enough.

My attention shifted to Beatrice’s half-finished wine. She had gone to check on Lucien’s cooking progress ages ago. Too long, actually.

Frowning, I stood, smoothing the wrinkles from my dress before heading toward the kitchen.

The door was slightly ajar, and I could just make out Beatrice’s rigid silhouette in the doorway. My lips curved into a smirk—until I noticed the tension in her posture. She was frozen, her back unnaturally straight, like she’d been turned to stone.

"Beatrice?" I called softly, stepping closer.

She didn’t respond.

Peering over her shoulder, I understood why.

Lucien and Giselle.

Giselle was perched on the counter, her legs locked around Lucien’s waist, her fingers tangled in his hair as she kissed him with a fervor that bordered on desperation. Lucien’s hands rested loosely on her hips, but his stance was oddly passive, as if he were merely tolerating her enthusiasm rather than matching it.

I wasn’t shocked. This wasn’t the first time I’d stumbled upon them entangled somewhere they shouldn’t be. But it was the first time they’d been so careless—right in the middle of the kitchen, where anyone could walk in.

Like Beatrice, who looked like she’d been struck by lightning.

Biting back a laugh, I rested a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

She flinched so hard I thought she might shatter.

I didn’t wait for her to recover. Instead, I turned my attention to the oblivious couple and cleared my throat—loudly.

They sprang apart like they’d been electrocuted. Giselle nearly toppled off the counter, catching herself at the last second, while Lucien’s face flamed crimson.

Then, in a blink, all the color drained from his skin.

He wasn’t looking at me anymore.

His gaze was locked on Beatrice.

And he looked terrified.

Lucien's gaze locked onto Beatrice, his eyes widening in unmistakable horror. I saw the way his breath hitched, fingers twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for her but couldn’t. Beatrice took a shaky step back, her entire frame trembling like a leaf in the wind. My stomach twisted when I noticed how pale she’d become—her usual rosy cheeks now drained of color.

I turned to Giselle, who stood frozen beside me, her lips parted in silent shock. Neither of them spoke a word, the air between them thick with tension.

"Beatrice?" I reached for her arm, my voice barely above a whisper. "What’s wrong?"

"Lucien?" Giselle tried nudging him with her foot, but he recoiled as if burned, putting more distance between them.

A shuddering breath escaped Beatrice before she finally tore her gaze away from Lucien to look at me. My chest constricted when I saw the tears welling in her striking blue eyes—eyes that usually sparkled with mischief. Now, they were filled with something raw and painful.

She looked... shattered.

Something was terribly wrong, and I needed to find out what.