Chapter 33

The morning sun cast golden rays through the curtains, stirring Lillian from her restless sleep. She groaned, rubbing her temples as the remnants of last night's tension lingered in her muscles. The scent of Donovan still clung to her skin, a bitter reminder of the past she couldn’t escape.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Beatrice’s name flashed across the screen, followed by a string of frantic texts:

"Lil, where are you? You missed combat class!"

"Professor Montclair is pissed. He said if you skip again, he’ll fail you!"

Lillian sighed, tossing the phone aside. She couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when her mind was still tangled in the mess of yesterday—Donovan’s smug smirk, Evelyn’s possessive grip on his arm, and worst of all, the way Sebastian had looked at her when she stormed out of the pack meeting.

A sharp knock at the door startled her.

"Lillian?" The deep timbre of Sebastian’s voice sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. "Open the door."

She hesitated, fingers curling into the sheets. Part of her wanted to ignore him, to bury herself under the covers and pretend none of this was happening. But another part—the stubborn, prideful part—refused to let him see her weak.

With a deep breath, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and padded to the door.

Sebastian stood in the hallway, his broad frame filling the space. His dark eyes flickered over her disheveled state—messy hair, sleep-creased clothes—before settling on her face. "You weren’t at breakfast."

Lillian crossed her arms. "I wasn’t hungry."

His jaw tightened. "You weren’t in class either."

"So what? It’s not like you care."

A muscle ticked in his cheek. "I do care."

The words hung between them, heavy and unexpected. Lillian’s breath hitched.

Before she could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Marcus appeared, his expression grim. "Alpha, we have a problem."

Sebastian didn’t take his eyes off Lillian. "What is it?"

"Alpha Harrison’s pack is at the border. They’re demanding to speak with you."

Lillian stiffened. Harrison—the Alpha who had tried to take advantage of her when she was drunk. The memory sent a fresh wave of anger through her.

Sebastian’s gaze darkened. "Tell them I’ll be there in five minutes."

Marcus nodded and disappeared.

Sebastian turned back to Lillian. "Stay here. Don’t leave the house."

She bristled. "I’m not a prisoner."

"No," he said, stepping closer. "But you are under my protection. And until I know what Harrison wants, I’m not taking any chances."

His proximity sent heat flooding through her. She could smell his scent—cedar and something darker, wilder. It made her pulse race.

Before she could argue, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And for the record, Lillian… I always care."

Then he was gone, leaving her standing there, heart pounding, as the weight of his words settled over her.

Outside, the distant growl of engines signaled Harrison’s arrival.

And Lillian knew—whatever was coming next, it wouldn’t be good.

The moment I realized Cassandra was no longer my friend came a few days after the middle school spelling bee. She had only missed one letter in the word "Necessary," and that single mistake cost her the competition. It was just a small contest, but she took it personally—as if I had stolen something from her.

She pretended everything was fine, of course. She congratulated me with a tight smile and even hugged me afterward. The school planned a mock award ceremony a few days later, and my adoptive mother, Evelyn, helped me pick out a pretty dress and draft a speech.

What most people didn’t know about me was that I had dyslexia. Reading and writing had always been a struggle—letters jumbled together, words swam on the page, and reading aloud in class was pure torture. I had spent months preparing for that spelling bee, practicing every night, never expecting to actually win.

Thanks to years of therapy, I’d learned to manage my condition better, but it still made everything harder. Only a handful of people knew—Beatrice, my best friend since elementary school, my adoptive parents, and, unfortunately, Donovan. I had confessed it to him after he marked me, wanting no secrets between us.

Cassandra, like the rest of the school, only knew I struggled with reading. She had seen how hard I worked for the competition because we’d practiced together. After my win, she sat beside me while I rehearsed the speech Evelyn and I had written. It took me a while to get through it smoothly, but by the time the ceremony arrived, I was confident.

Then, disaster struck.

As I stood in front of the entire school, about to deliver my speech, I realized the words on the paper weren’t the ones I had memorized. Someone had switched them—scrambling letters, replacing words with nonsense. My throat tightened. I stumbled over the first line, then the next, my voice faltering as I tried to make sense of the mess in front of me.

Laughter erupted around me.

My gaze snapped to Cassandra’s, and there it was—the smirk. The satisfaction in her eyes. She had done this.

Before I could react, one of her new friends stepped forward and dumped a bucket of glue over my head. The sticky mess dripped down my face, my dress ruined. Cassandra stepped in front of me before the headmaster could intervene.

"You stole my prize," she hissed. "You don’t deserve to win. I saw your notebook—you had every word written down, memorized. You cheated!"

Then she flung handfuls of glitter at me, marking me as a fraud in front of everyone.

I hadn’t cheated. I had just studied. She could have done the same. But she didn’t care. The crowd chanted, calling me a cheater, mocking my inability to read.

Headmaster Wellington finally pulled Cassandra and her friends away, but the damage was done. Beatrice rushed to my side, shielding me from the worst of it. She had always been my friend, but that day, she became something more—my truest ally. It was also the day I finally told her about my dyslexia.

Cassandra barely faced consequences. Her famous mother and wealthy father made sure of that.

But I never forgot. And I never forgave.

I had sworn to myself that I would never feel that powerless again. After that humiliating day, my parents enrolled me in therapy sessions to help me cope, and I threw myself into my studies with twice the determination.

It had been years since I last thought about that moment—until now.

Standing center stage, I could feel the weight of every gaze fixed on me. My peers watched in silence, their expressions a mix of curiosity and judgment. What would I do? Would I defend myself? Would I declare that I deserved this scholarship?

But just like back then, my voice failed me.

"Cassandra, these are serious allegations," the dean said, crossing his arms. "This is neither the time nor the place for such theatrics."

"I have proof that Lillian doesn’t deserve this award," Cassandra announced, stepping closer to me with a smirk. "She’s a fraud. A liar."

My breath caught. The words hit like a physical blow, leaving me frozen.

The room buzzed with murmurs. I could feel the expectation pressing down on me—everyone waiting for me to speak, to fight back. But my mind was blank, my body numb.

The dean hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the disruption. Clearing his throat, he straightened.

"Let’s continue this discussion in my office," he said firmly. "This matter requires privacy."

"Fine by me." Cassandra’s eyes gleamed with triumph as she shot me a venomous look. "I’d be happy to show you exactly what I mean."

The dean nodded and gestured for us to follow. As we moved toward the exit, I kept my head down, the whispers of my classmates swirling around me like a storm. His assistant—wide-eyed and startled—received a quiet instruction before we left the ceremony hall behind.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

I had promised myself I’d never be this vulnerable again.

Yet here I was.