Chapter 282

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 lazily, her fingers brushing against the empty space beside her.

A soft knock at the door interrupted the quiet.

"Miss Lillian?" Harper’s voice, gentle yet firm, carried through the wood. "Breakfast is ready. Mr. Blackwood is waiting for you downstairs."

Lillian sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I’ll be down in a minute."

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The events of last night replayed in her mind—Donovan’s whispered promises, the way his hands had traced her skin, the heat of his lips against hers. A shiver ran down her spine.

But reality crashed in quickly.

Sebastian Blackwood was waiting.

She dressed swiftly, choosing a simple yet elegant dress that hugged her curves. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed she looked presentable—though the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her thoughts.

Downstairs, the dining room was bathed in soft morning light. Sebastian sat at the head of the table, impeccably dressed as always, his sharp gaze flickering up as she entered.

"Good morning," he said, his voice smooth.

"Morning," Lillian replied, sliding into her seat.

The table was laden with an array of dishes—fluffy pancakes, fresh fruit, and steaming coffee. But despite the spread, tension hung thick in the air.

Sebastian set down his newspaper. "We need to talk."

Lillian’s fingers tightened around her fork. "About?"

"Donovan."

Her breath hitched.

Sebastian leaned forward, his eyes darkening. "I know he was here last night."

Lillian’s pulse spiked. "How—?"

"Because this is my house," he cut in, his tone icy. "Nothing happens here without me knowing."

She swallowed hard. "It wasn’t what you think."

"Then enlighten me."

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable. Lillian hesitated, her mind racing. She couldn’t deny it—Donovan had come to her, seeking forgiveness, seeking her. But she also couldn’t ignore the way Sebastian’s jaw clenched, the barely restrained fury simmering beneath his composed exterior.

Before she could respond, the front door burst open.

"Father!" Oliver’s voice echoed through the hall, followed by the patter of small feet.

Sebastian’s expression shifted instantly, his stern mask softening as his son barreled into the room.

Lillian exhaled in relief—but it was short-lived.

Because behind Oliver stood Evelyn, Donovan’s new mate, her eyes burning with accusation.

And in that moment, Lillian knew—

The storm was just beginning.

Lillian's POV

"Are you absolutely certain your foot is alright?" Beatrice asked, trailing after me around our lavish suite. It was late in the evening, the first round of the competition having just concluded. I'd managed to catch the last hour of it after being discharged from the resort's urgent care. Beatrice and I had found seats in the audience, cheering on the competitors with the rest of the crowd.

Sebastian had already been eliminated, and watching his defeat had been brutal. I deliberately avoided looking at him where he sat among the other Lycans in the front row. It infuriated me how effortlessly handsome he looked, how badly I still wanted to tear that tailored suit off his body. Just the memory of his touch sent shivers down my spine.

"Did you hear a single word I just said?" Beatrice waved a hand in front of my face, snapping me back to reality.

"Sorry," I muttered, turning toward the closet. I pulled out a sleek black dress I'd brought for the occasion and glanced at her. "What did you say?"

"I asked if your foot was really okay. You don’t have to go to this dinner, you know. You didn’t compete today."

"I know," I said, smoothing the fabric of the dress. "But I want to be there to support the others."

"You could always come with me instead," she offered.

"I already promised some of the girls I’d hit the bar with them tonight," Beatrice said with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry."

"Go have fun. Don’t worry about me," I told her, pulling her into a quick hug. "And yes, my foot is fine. The swelling’s already gone down, and it’s only been a few hours."

It still ached, but the pain was manageable. If I took it easy and didn’t push myself too hard, I’d be ready to compete tomorrow morning. I slipped into the dress while Beatrice helped me with my hair and makeup. I wanted to make a strong impression at this dinner. Every night this week, there would be a formal gathering for the competitors. Attendance wasn’t mandatory, but showing up left a mark.

After saying goodbye to Beatrice for the evening, I headed straight for the party room. Once again, I had to rely on the resort map—and more than once, I found myself hopelessly lost. Eventually, I stumbled upon the right place.

Sebastian's POV

"You’re seriously going to this dinner?" Julian asked, his brow furrowed as he studied me.

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped out, Julian close behind. The paparazzi immediately swarmed, cameras flashing. I paused long enough to humor them with a few posed shots—I wasn’t completely heartless.

After a minute, Julian smoothly extracted me from the photographers, steering me toward the party room.

"I figured I should make an appearance at least once," I murmured.

We reached the grand hall, and I stepped inside. The room was alive with chatter, filled with eager fans and competitors dressed in their finest. The decor was impeccable, the atmosphere buzzing with energy. These events were always formal affairs.

"Alpha Blackwood, what a pleasant surprise," Alpha Voss greeted me, handing me a glass of wine.

I frowned at him. I didn’t trust him—especially not with Lillian staying in the same resort. There was no telling what he might do if he discovered what had happened between us.

"We missed you at last night’s banquet. It was meant to kick off the competition," Voss continued, taking a slow sip of his wine.

I barely suppressed a scoff. "Prior engagements," I replied coolly.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Of course. Well, I’m glad you could join us tonight."

I scanned the room, my gaze instinctively searching for her. And then—there she was. Lillian, standing near the entrance, looking breathtaking in that dress.

My pulse spiked.

This was going to be a long night.

“I arrived quite late,” I lied smoothly, keeping my voice light. “Needed some rest.”

“Understandable,” Levi—no, Maximilian—replied, his glacial gaze piercing through me. “You’ve been occupied. I wouldn’t dare disturb you.”

The last thing I wanted was to linger here, exchanging hollow pleasantries under the scrutiny of the other Lycans. Their stares burned with the usual cocktail of envy and bitterness, so I made it a habit to avoid them whenever possible.

Then my breath hitched.

Lillian.

She stepped through the doorway, her dress clinging to her toned frame like liquid silk. It was almost surreal how effortlessly she could shift from looking like a warrior to a goddess. My gaze slid down her long, sculpted legs—and my stomach twisted.

No cast.

Her ankle was supposed to be injured.

She moved hesitantly, her fingers pressed against her stomach as if she might vomit at any second. Nervous. Too nervous.

What the hell was she doing here?

This wasn’t just reckless—it was suicidal. Coming to a gathering like this, where every pair of eyes was a potential threat? Did she want to get caught?

Or worse—did she want them to know?