Chapter 248

The morning sun cast golden rays through the curtains, painting delicate patterns across the silk sheets. Lillian stirred, her body still humming with the lingering warmth of Donovan’s embrace. She stretched, her muscles pleasantly sore, and turned to find the space beside her empty.

A note rested on the pillow, written in Donovan’s bold script:

"Had an early meeting. Didn’t want to wake you. Breakfast is ready downstairs."

A smile tugged at her lips as she traced the words with her fingertips. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and buttery croissants drifted up from the kitchen, making her stomach growl.

She slipped out of bed, wrapping herself in Donovan’s discarded shirt—its fabric still carrying his intoxicating scent. Padding barefoot to the window, she pushed the curtains aside and inhaled the crisp morning air. The estate sprawled before her, lush gardens and towering oaks bathed in sunlight.

Downstairs, the dining room was a picture of quiet elegance. A silver tray held an assortment of pastries, fruits, and a steaming pot of coffee. But what caught her eye was the single red rose placed beside her plate, its petals velvety and perfect.

Lillian’s heart fluttered.

She had just taken her first sip of coffee when the front door burst open, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. Beatrice rushed in, her cheeks flushed, clutching a glossy magazine.

"Lillian! You have to see this!"

Before Lillian could respond, Beatrice thrust the magazine onto the table. The headline screamed in bold letters:

"Sebastian Blackwood’s Secret Affair: Scandal Rocks the Lycan Elite!"

Beneath it was a grainy photo—Donovan, his arm wrapped around a stunning brunette, their faces inches apart.

Lillian’s breath hitched.

The caption read: "Lycan Chairman Donovan Blackwood spotted with socialite Evelyn Laurent at exclusive gala—just days after reconciling with his mate."

Beatrice’s voice was tight with fury. "That snake! How could he do this to you?"

Lillian’s fingers trembled as she set down her coffee cup. The room spun.

She had trusted him. She had believed him.

And now?

Now, she wasn’t sure of anything.

Sebastian noticed how upset she was, his initial irritation melting into concern as he turned fully toward his daughter.

"What's wrong?" Sebastian asked, his piercing gaze narrowing.

She sniffled, her lower lip trembling.

"C-Can I talk to you...?" Her voice was thick with unshed tears. She flicked a glance at me before lifting her eyes to him. "Alone."

Sebastian stiffened, but he nodded without hesitation.

"Of course, sweetheart," he murmured, his tone softening.

He gestured toward the house, and she nodded, casting me one last uncertain look before turning away. The moment she disappeared inside, Sebastian’s attention snapped back to me, though I could already see his mind was elsewhere.

"Go," I urged, forcing a reassuring smile. "She needs you. I should head out anyway."

He exhaled, nodding.

"Alright," he said, though his voice was distant. "I'll see you later?"

I nodded, my smile brittle. He didn’t notice the strain in my expression or the ache in my chest as he hurried after her. Left standing there, I felt like a fool—an outsider in a moment that wasn’t mine to share.

Later, when I returned to the mansion, the sound of raised voices in the kitchen stopped me in my tracks. One voice was sharp and furious—undoubtedly Giselle’s—while the other was calm, almost chilling in its detachment. Lucien.

I crept closer, their words becoming clearer.

"You barely knew her!" Giselle hissed. "And now you're ready to throw us away for some nobody you just met?"

"Don’t call her that," Lucien replied, exhaustion lacing his tone. This argument had clearly been going on for a while. "There was never an 'us,' Giselle. It was just fun. I thought you understood that."

"Fun?" Her voice cracked. "I thought we were building something real, Lucien. I thought you cared about me."

"I do care about you," he sighed. "But I’m not in love with you. I’m sorry if you thought otherwise—"

"I know what we had," she cut in, her voice dripping with conviction. I envied that certainty, even as it made my stomach twist.

"Giselle—"

"I’m not giving up on us," she declared. "I love you. I always have. From the moment we met, I knew. So what if we’re not fated? We can choose each other. Isn’t that what life’s about? The Goddess gave us free will—I choose you, Lucien."

I nudged the door open just enough to see inside. She stood too close, her hand on his arm, her touch making him tense. She tilted her face up, batting her lashes, lips parted just so.

His jaw tightened.

"Nothing is happening between us again," he said firmly.

Her hands dropped to her sides, fingers curling into fists.

"We’ll see about that," she muttered.

Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and stormed out the back door. Lucien exhaled roughly, bracing himself against the counter like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders.

I didn’t linger. Pushing the door open fully, I stepped inside, startling him.

"Sorry," I said, lifting my hands in surrender. "Just me."

His shoulders relaxed slightly when he saw me. Leaning back against the counter, he crossed his arms.

"Did you hear any of that?" he asked, his voice weary.