Chapter 252

The morning sun filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of Sebastian Blackwood's private study, casting golden streaks across the antique mahogany desk where Lillian sat fidgeting with her pen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint aroma of leather-bound books that lined the walls.

"Stop chewing your lip, darling," Sebastian murmured without looking up from his documents. His silver cufflinks caught the light as he turned a page. "You'll draw blood."

Lillian startled, unaware he'd been observing her. Across the room, Oliver played quietly with his toy soldiers near the fireplace, his small brow furrowed in concentration. The crackling flames painted dancing shadows across his serious expression - so like his father's.

"I wasn't—" Lillian began, then sighed when Sebastian arched one perfect eyebrow. His storm-gray eyes held that particular intensity that made her pulse quicken, even now.

The study door burst open before she could continue. Beatrice rushed in, her chestnut curls bouncing wildly. "You'll never guess who just arrived!" Her amber eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement.

Sebastian set down his fountain pen with deliberate calm. "Do enlighten us, Miss Whitaker."

"Victoria! And she's brought—"

The rest of Beatrice's announcement was drowned out by the sharp click of heels on marble. A statuesque blonde swept into the room, her designer dress hugging every curve. Victoria Blackwood hadn't aged a day since Lillian last saw her - still every inch the ice princess.

"Father." Victoria's greeting was cool as she air-kissed Sebastian's cheeks. Then her glacial blue eyes landed on Lillian. "And the little werewolf bride. How... quaint."

Oliver scrambled to his feet, his toy soldiers forgotten. "Aunt Tory!"

Victoria's expression softened marginally as she patted his head. "You've grown, imp."

Lillian's fingers tightened around her pen. The tension in the room thickened like fog. She could practically taste Victoria's disapproval in the air - bitter as burnt coffee.

Sebastian rose smoothly, his towering frame commanding the space. "To what do we owe this unexpected visit, daughter?"

Victoria's crimson lips curved. "I've brought someone special." She turned toward the doorway. "Donovan, darling, stop lurking."

The air left Lillian's lungs in a rush as Donovan Winslow stepped into view. His golden hair was shorter now, his jaw more angular, but those emerald eyes still held the same predatory glint that once made her heart race. His arm was draped possessively around Evelyn's waist.

"Well, well," Donovan drawled, his gaze raking over Lillian. "If it isn't my former mate. Still playing house with the Lycan King, I see."

Oliver moved instinctively closer to Lillian, his small hand finding hers. She squeezed it gently, drawing strength from the contact.

Sebastian's voice dropped to that dangerous purr Lillian knew too well. "Mind your tongue, Winslow. You're a guest in my home."

Donovan smirked. "Of course, Your Majesty." The title dripped with mockery.

Evelyn's giggle grated against Lillian's nerves. "Don't be mean, Donny. We're all family here." Her saccharine smile didn't reach her cold eyes.

Beatrice made a strangled noise beside Lillian. "Since when?"

Victoria's manicured fingers adjusted the diamond pendant at her throat. "Since Donovan and I have decided to reconcile. For the sake of the alliance between our packs, of course."

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly in the sudden silence. Lillian's pulse roared in her ears. This couldn't be happening. Not after everything.

Sebastian's expression remained unreadable, but Lillian saw the muscle jump in his jaw. "Interesting timing," he remarked mildly. "Considering your engagement was dissolved after certain... indiscretions came to light."

Donovan's smile turned wolfish. "Water under the bridge, Blackwood. Victoria understands the realities of our world." His gaze slid to Lillian. "Unlike some."

Lillian's wolf stirred beneath her skin, itching to put this arrogant bastard in his place. But before she could respond, Oliver tugged her hand.

"Lily," he whispered urgently. "Your eyes are glowing."

She took a steadying breath, forcing her wolf to settle. Sebastian moved subtly closer, his presence a silent shield.

Victoria clapped her hands together. "Enough posturing. We're here for the full moon gala tomorrow night. Donovan will be my escort, naturally."

Beatrice snorted. "Naturally."

Evelyn pouted. "I wanted to see the famous Blackwood ballroom. Donovan promised me a dance."

Donovan smirked. "Plenty of time for that, sweetheart."

Lillian's stomach churned. The thought of Donovan prowling through Sebastian's home, touching his things, breathing his air—it made her claws extend involuntarily.

Sebastian's hand found the small of her back, warm and grounding. "Theodore," he called without raising his voice.

The butler materialized in the doorway as if summoned by magic. "Yes, Alpha?"

"Show our... guests to their rooms. The east wing suites should suffice."

Victoria's smile turned brittle. "Not the family wing?"

Sebastian's answering smile was all teeth. "You stopped being family when you betrayed my trust, Victoria. Be grateful you're under my roof at all."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Even Donovan looked momentarily chastened.

As Theodore ushered the unwelcome visitors out, Beatrice let out a low whistle. "Well. That was..."

"Expected," Sebastian finished grimly. He turned to Lillian, his expression softening. "Are you alright?"

Lillian exhaled shakily. "I will be." She glanced down at Oliver, who was watching them with wide, worried eyes. "We all will be."

Sebastian cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath her glowing golden eyes. "Remember whose mate you are, little wolf. No one touches what's mine."

The promise in his words sent a shiver down her spine. Tomorrow's gala would be a battlefield, and Donovan had just declared war.

But Sebastian Blackwood didn't lose battles. And neither did his Luna.

Lillian's POV

The tension in the car was suffocating.

Lucien didn’t answer Beatrice’s question—he was too stunned to speak. He hadn’t expected her to ask something so direct, nor was he ready to make that kind of decision. Despite her efforts to mask the hurt in her voice and eyes, it was still painfully obvious. I could see it. And I knew Lucien could too.

The ride back was silent. Beatrice refused to sit in the front, so I took the passenger seat while Lucien drove. His eyes kept flickering to the rearview mirror, stealing glances at her. She stubbornly avoided his gaze, staring out the window, but I could tell she felt the weight of his attention the entire way.

When we finally pulled up to the mansion, Lucien parked in his usual spot but hesitated before turning off the engine.

Beatrice didn’t wait.

The second the car stopped, she flung the door open and bolted toward the entrance. I lingered, watching Lucien, silently willing him to go after her. But he didn’t. He just sat there, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel as he watched her disappear inside.

"She hates me," he murmured, his voice rough.

"She doesn’t hate you," I said firmly. "She can’t hate you. You’re her mate. She just needs time."

"How much time?" He finally turned to me, his golden eyes shadowed. "She won’t even look at me, Lillian."

I smirked, trying to ease the tension. "I’ve never seen you this wrecked over a woman before."

And it was true. Lucien had always been the charming playboy—flirting with a different girl every weekend, much to Giselle’s frustration. When he wasn’t out partying, he was either in the kitchen experimenting with new recipes or hiding in Giselle’s room, avoiding responsibilities.

I’d always assumed that if Lucien ever got serious about someone, it would be Giselle.

Hell, I’m sure she thought so too.

None of us saw this coming. None of us expected him to find his mate—and certainly not my best friend.

"So," I finally asked, "what are you going to do?"

Lucien exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair.

"I don’t know," he admitted after a long pause.

"Are you going to reject her?"

A deep growl rumbled in his chest before he could stop it, his wolf flashing dangerously in his eyes. That reaction alone told me everything—his wolf wanted her. It was the man who was hesitating.

"I don’t know," he repeated, frustration lacing his words. "I never thought I’d have a mate. I never thought I’d have to make this kind of choice."

I sighed and pushed open the car door. "Well, you’d better figure it out fast before you lose her for good."

I turned back to him one last time.

"You already broke her heart. Either tear the bandage off completely or start putting her back together. I hate seeing her like this."

Seeing Beatrice like this shattered my heart. "Lucien," I whispered under my breath, "I hate that it's you who's making her feel this way."

Without another word, I stepped out of the car and rushed toward the mansion. The grand foyer stretched before me, empty and silent. My eyes darted around, searching for any sign of Beatrice.

"She went upstairs," one of the maids murmured, answering my unspoken question before I could even ask.

I gave her a quick, grateful nod and sprinted up the staircase, my pulse racing. Pushing open the door to my room, I found Beatrice curled up on my bed, clutching a pillow to her chest. Silent tears streaked down her flushed cheeks.

"How long have you known?" she asked hoarsely, not even lifting her gaze to meet mine.

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, my stomach knotting. "Known what?" I hedged, though I already knew exactly what she meant.

Her watery eyes flicked up to mine, sharp despite the pain. "That Lucien is my mate. You knew."

I exhaled and nodded, unable to lie to her. "After you left the other day," I admitted, biting my lip. "I put it together from the way Lucien was acting."

She let out a shuddering breath and turned her face away, fresh tears spilling over. "I always dreamed of finding my mate," she whispered, voice breaking. "But I never imagined he'd be... him."

I sank onto the bed beside her, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her damp face. "Lucien isn't as bad as he seems," I offered carefully. "Yes, he's got a reputation, but deep down, he's kind. Loyal."

Beatrice let out a bitter laugh. "He went on a date with Amélie—the girl from my favorite boutique. That’s how I first met him."

My breath caught. I remembered Beatrice mentioning meeting her mate once, but she’d been too drunk to give details. And she had gone into the city that night to buy a dress for the frat party...

Realization hit me like a punch.

That was why she drank so much that night.

"He saw me," she continued, her voice trembling. "I know he recognized me as his mate, just like I recognized him. But he still walked away with her. He chose her over me."

"It wasn’t like that," I said quickly, squeezing her hand. "He was probably just shocked. And he’d already made plans with her—he wouldn’t just abandon her without a word."

Beatrice shook her head, fresh tears falling. "Then why does it still hurt so much?"

I had no answer for that.