Chapter 43

The morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes of Lillian's bedroom at the Blackwood estate. She stretched beneath the silk sheets, her werewolf senses immediately picking up the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm croissants. The digital clock on her nightstand blinked 7:32 AM - she had slept through her alarm again.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Lillian?" came Sophia's gentle voice through the door. "Mr. Blackwood has requested your presence in the dining room. He says it's urgent."

Lillian's heart skipped a beat. Sebastian never summoned her this early unless something was wrong. Throwing on a robe, she hurried downstairs, her bare feet silent against the marble floors.

The dining room was bathed in golden morning light, but the atmosphere was anything but warm. Sebastian stood by the window, his broad shoulders tense beneath his tailored suit. Oliver sat at the table, unusually quiet while pushing scrambled eggs around his plate.

"What's happened?" Lillian asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian turned, his stormy gray eyes meeting hers. "We've received word from the Winslow pack," he said, his deep voice laced with restrained anger. "Donovan and Evelyn are coming to the city."

The blood drained from Lillian's face. Her traitorous ex-fated mate and his new partner - here? After everything? Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

Oliver looked up, his young face scrunched in concern. "Are they coming to hurt us?"

Sebastian placed a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "No one will hurt you, Oliver. Not while I'm here." His gaze flicked back to Lillian. "They're attending the annual Lycan Summit as representatives of the Winslow pack."

Lillian's stomach twisted. The Summit - the most important gathering of werewolf leaders in the country. Of course Donovan would use this opportunity to flaunt his new position.

Beatrice burst into the room then, her phone clutched in her hand. "You won't believe what I just heard from Isabella!" she exclaimed, then froze when she saw their expressions. "Oh. You already know."

Lillian sank into a chair, her mind racing. After months of peace, her past was catching up with her in the worst possible way. And with the Summit being hosted at the Blackwood estate this year, there would be no avoiding Donovan.

Sebastian moved to stand behind her, his presence a steady anchor. "Whatever happens," he murmured, just for her ears, "remember you're not that scared college student anymore. You're the future Luna of the Blackwood pack."

Lillian reached up to grasp his hand, drawing strength from his touch. She would face Donovan again - but this time, she wouldn't be alone. And this time, she would be the one holding all the power.

The idea struck Beatrice over dinner—perhaps visiting my father in prison could provide some insight into handling his mate. I wasn't sure I was ready for that confrontation, but after classes the next day, I steeled myself and headed to the penitentiary.

"Apologies, Miss. You're not permitted entry," the guard at the gate declared, arms crossed firmly over his chest.

I blinked up at him, confusion knitting my brows.

"Excuse me?" My voice wavered. "This is a public facility. I'm in the visitation area—I have every right to be here. I need to see my father."

The guard's frown deepened as he scanned his clipboard, then shook his head.

"Direct orders to bar Lillian Dumont from entering," he said flatly. "Nothing I can do. You'll have to leave."

I opened my mouth to protest, but a sharp, familiar voice cut in behind me.

"And who, precisely, issued those orders?" Victoria Blackwood demanded, stepping forward with her arms folded. "Unless my father personally authorized this, I suggest you reconsider. Why is my friend being denied access to her own father?"

The guard stiffened, his posture instantly deferential. "M-Miss Blackwood! I didn’t realize you were—"

"I was passing by when I saw Lillian enter," Victoria interrupted coolly. "Now, answer the question."

My pulse raced. I hadn’t expected Victoria to intervene—or even be here. But the way the guard paled told me everything. Donovan. He must have paid them off.

The guard swallowed hard, glancing between us. "I... didn’t know you two were acquainted." He forced a nervous laugh. "Of course, she can see him. My mistake." He stepped aside.

I met Victoria’s gaze, gratitude swelling in my chest, but words failed me. Instead, I gave a small nod before slipping past the guard.

Inside, another officer led me to the visitation room. I sat at a cold metal table, fingers twisting anxiously until the door creaked open.

My father shuffled in, flanked by guards.

"No physical contact," one warned.

I nodded, biting my lip—until I saw him fully.

My breath hitched.

Bruises mottled his face, one eye swollen shut. Dried blood crusted his split lip. He looked... broken.

"Lillian..." His voice was a ragged whisper, as if speaking pained him. "You came..."

Tears blurred my vision. "Dad..." I choked out. "What did they do to you?"

His bloodshot eyes held mine, and for the first time, I saw true fear in them.

This wasn’t just punishment.

This was a warning.

A sorrowful, pained smile tugged at his lips as he sank into the seat across from me. I sat down as well, unable to tear my gaze away from him. This wasn’t the strong, commanding man I had known as my adoptive father—he looked fragile, shattered, a mere shadow of the man he once was. The sight of him like this tore at something deep inside me.

"I never thought I’d see you again," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Guilt twisted in my chest. "I’m sorry it took so long..."

He shook his head, a wave of sadness darkening his eyes. "This isn’t the kind of place you should be in, Lillian. I don’t blame you for staying away."

Tears spilled over before I could stop them, streaking down my cheeks and dripping from my chin. Seeing him like this—broken, defeated—was unbearable. I wrapped my arms around myself, as if that could hold me together.

"How’s your mother?" he asked, pulling my attention back to him.

"Not good, Dad," I admitted softly. "That’s… that’s why I’m here. She’s not happy. I think she’s slipped into depression, and I—I don’t know what to do. I was hoping… maybe you could help?"

The words hung between us, heavy with unspoken pain. His expression shifted, something raw flickering in his gaze before he exhaled slowly.

"I wish I could, sweetheart," he said, his voice rough. "But I’m not the man I used to be. Not anymore."

The admission struck like a blow. I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around my arms. "Then who is?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Someone who can’t fix this."

A cold weight settled in my stomach. If he couldn’t help… then what hope did we have?

But then his gaze sharpened, just slightly. "But maybe there’s someone else who can."

My breath caught. "Who?"

He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Sebastian Blackwood."

The name sent a jolt through me. The Lycan chairman. The man whose world I had been dragged into against my will.

"Why him?" I whispered.

"Because," my father said, his voice firm despite its weariness, "he’s the only one with the power—and the reason—to help you now."

The implication hung in the air, unspoken but undeniable.

And with it came a terrifying question:

What would I have to give up in return?