Chapter 275

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Blackwood estate, painting the marble floors in warm hues. Lillian stretched lazily in bed, her fingers brushing against the empty space beside her. Sebastian had already left for an early meeting, but the lingering scent of his cologne still clung to the sheets.

She sighed, rolling onto her back. The events of the past few days weighed heavily on her mind—Donovan’s sudden reappearance, Evelyn’s smug taunts, and the whispers circulating through the pack about their fractured bond. But none of that mattered now. Not when she had Sebastian.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, sitting up.

The door creaked open, revealing Oliver’s small frame. His dark curls were tousled from sleep, and he clutched a stuffed wolf tightly under one arm. "Lillian," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Did you see my dad?"

She smiled, patting the space beside her. "He had an early meeting, sweetheart. But he’ll be back soon."

Oliver climbed onto the bed, nestling against her side. "Are you gonna stay with us forever?"

The question caught her off guard. Her heart clenched. Forever. Such a simple word, yet it carried the weight of promises and uncertainties.

Before she could answer, another knock echoed through the room. This time, it was Theodore, Sebastian’s ever-composed butler.

"Miss Lillian," he said, bowing slightly. "Alpha Sebastian requests your presence in his office. It’s urgent."

Lillian frowned. Sebastian never summoned her like this unless something was wrong.

"Of course," she said, gently disentangling herself from Oliver. "I’ll be right there."

As she followed Theodore down the grand hallway, her pulse quickened. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken tension.

When she stepped into Sebastian’s office, the sight before her made her blood run cold.

Donovan stood there, his expression unreadable, flanked by two unfamiliar warriors. And beside him—Victoria, Sebastian’s daughter, her face pale but resolute.

Sebastian’s jaw was clenched, his golden eyes burning with restrained fury. "Lillian," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "It seems we have a situation."

Donovan smirked, crossing his arms. "Hello, Lillian. Miss me?"

Her stomach twisted. This wasn’t just a visit.

This was a declaration of war.

Lillian's POV

Too much time had slipped away, and I finally dragged myself back to my hotel suite. I desperately needed to change before heading to the resort’s gym to start my day. Training with the others was on my agenda, but first—I had to tame this monstrous hangover.

Relief washed over me when I didn’t spot Sebastian in the hallway as I returned to our floor. His room was right next to mine, so I tiptoed past, praying he wouldn’t sense my presence.

Then again, he was a Lycan. He probably knew the second I stepped off the elevator.

When I reached my door, my stomach dropped—I didn’t have my key. My only hope was Beatrice being inside. I knocked, balancing between loud enough for her to hear and quiet enough to avoid alerting Sebastian. Not that it mattered. He knew I was there. The real question was—would he confront me?

I shouldn’t have bolted like that. I should’ve stayed, explained. But the mortification of waking up in his bed last night had sent me into full flight mode.

The door swung open, and I spun around—only to realize I’d been staring at Sebastian’s door like a deer in headlights. Beatrice stood there, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," she drawled, her gaze sweeping over my disheveled state. I was still in last night’s banquet dress. I hadn’t dared look in a mirror yet, but I could only imagine the disaster—wild hair, smudged makeup, and probably the lingering scent of poor decisions.

I slipped inside, and she shut the door behind me. The weight of her stare burned into my back.

"Enjoy your night with Sebastian?" she asked, voice dripping with amusement.

I gasped, whirling to face her, eyes wide.

"H-how did you—?" My voice came out barely a whisper.

She studied me, her expression unreadable—until the corner of her lip twitched. The crack in her composure.

"Let’s just say... I’m observant," she said, her gaze flicking pointedly to my wrinkled dress.

Heat flooded my cheeks under her scrutiny. Before I could defend myself, she burst into laughter, clutching the bedpost to keep from collapsing.

"Oh, Goddess," she wheezed. "Your face—priceless."

I pressed my lips into a tight line.

"This isn’t funny, Beatrice," I muttered, fighting the urge to cry while she cackled.

"Oh, trust me. It’s hilarious," she managed between giggles. "I saw him checking in earlier. Then, when I was heading back last night, I watched you stumble into the wrong suite. Recognized the number because the front desk gave it to him. I tried to stop you, but—"

She dissolved into laughter again, and I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

This was going to be a long day.

"Remember?"

I struggled to piece together the fragments of last night, and a hazy image of Beatrice surfaced in my mind. I recalled her looking frantic about something, but I had been too far gone to care—all I wanted was to collapse into bed. I must have assumed Beatrice was right behind me, heading to her own bed. That would explain why she had been so insistent about me being in the wrong room, even though I had been utterly convinced otherwise.

"You shut the door, and I couldn’t get in," she said, crossing her arms. "I knocked, but it was useless. Once I realized which room you’d stumbled into, I figured you’d be fine. Maybe mortified once you sobered up... but I knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to you." She shrugged. "So, I went back to our room."

"I really wish you’d tried harder, Beatrice," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut as the events of last night replayed in vivid, excruciating detail.

I had slept with Sebastian Blackwood.

"Did you have a bad night?" she asked, her brow furrowing with concern. "He didn’t... go too far, did he?"

I knew exactly what she was asking, and the truth was, I couldn’t fault Sebastian for anything—not after how he’d treated me these past few weeks. And last night? He’d been just as drunk as I was. The scent of whiskey had clung to his breath, and his usual controlled demeanor had slipped, just like mine. We’d both been reckless, letting emotions override reason.

It had been a choice between two intoxicated adults—no one was to blame. But that didn’t stop the humiliation from clawing at me. I had barged into his room uninvited. How could I ever explain myself? How would I face him again?