Chapter 46

The morning sun cast golden rays through the sheer curtains of Lillian's bedroom, stirring her awake. She stretched languidly, her muscles still sore from yesterday’s intense combat training. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted up from the kitchen, signaling that Beatrice was already awake.

Lillian padded downstairs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Beatrice sat at the kitchen island, scrolling through her phone with a smirk. "You look like you wrestled a bear last night," she teased, pushing a steaming mug toward Lillian.

"Close enough," Lillian muttered, taking a grateful sip. The rich, bitter warmth soothed her nerves.

Her phone buzzed—a message from Donovan. Her stomach twisted. "We need to talk. Meet me at the café near campus at noon."

Lillian frowned. After everything he’d done, what more could he possibly want? She hadn’t seen him since he’d publicly humiliated her at the pack gathering, flaunting Evelyn as his new mate.

Beatrice glanced at the screen and scoffed. "Don’t tell me you’re actually considering it."

"I don’t have a choice," Lillian admitted. "If he’s reaching out, it’s not for small talk."

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Or he’s just trying to mess with your head again. You know how he gets."

Lillian sighed. She did. Donovan had a way of twisting words until she doubted her own reality. But ignoring him could be worse. If he was scheming something, she needed to know.

The café was bustling when she arrived. Donovan sat at a corner table, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharpened the moment she walked in. Evelyn wasn’t with him—odd.

"You came," he said, leaning back. "I wasn’t sure you would."

Lillian slid into the seat across from him, keeping her expression neutral. "What do you want, Donovan?"

He smirked, swirling his coffee. "Straight to the point. I like that." His gaze flickered over her shoulder, and Lillian stiffened.

Sebastian Blackwood stood in the doorway, his presence commanding immediate silence from the room. His piercing eyes locked onto theirs, and Donovan’s smirk widened.

"Interesting," Donovan murmured. "Seems we’re not the only ones with secrets."

Lillian’s pulse spiked. What game was he playing now?

Sebastian approached, his voice low but firm. "Lillian. We need to leave."

Donovan chuckled. "Running away so soon? And here I thought we were just getting started."

Sebastian ignored him, his hand hovering near Lillian’s elbow. "Now."

Lillian hesitated, torn between defiance and the unsettling glint in Donovan’s eyes.

Then the café door burst open—Evelyn stormed in, her face flushed with fury.

"Donovan!" she snapped. "You said you were meeting your sister!"

Lillian’s breath caught.

Sebastian’s grip tightened. "Move."

But Donovan only laughed, leaning in. "Looks like the fun’s just beginning."

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the plush carpet of Lillian’s bedroom. She stretched lazily, her muscles still sore from yesterday’s training session with Professor Montclair. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted up from the kitchen, mingling with the faint aroma of lavender from her sheets.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Lillian? Are you awake?" Beatrice’s voice was muffled through the wood.

Lillian groaned, rubbing her eyes. "Yeah, come in."

The door creaked open, revealing Beatrice in her usual oversized hoodie and leggings, her dark curls piled messily on top of her head. She held out a steaming mug. "Thought you might need this. You looked dead on your feet last night."

Lillian accepted the coffee gratefully, taking a long sip. The rich, bitter warmth spread through her, chasing away the last remnants of sleep. "Thanks. I feel like I got run over by a truck."

Beatrice smirked, perching on the edge of the bed. "Well, maybe if you didn’t insist on sparring with Odette every damn day, you wouldn’t be so wrecked."

Lillian rolled her eyes. "Someone has to keep her in check. She’s gotten way too cocky since she won that last tournament."

Beatrice snorted. "Yeah, and you’re just the humble hero to put her in her place, right?"

Lillian threw a pillow at her, but Beatrice dodged with a laugh.

Their banter was cut short when Lillian’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. She glanced at the screen, her stomach tightening at the name flashing across it.

Sebastian Blackwood.

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise?"

Lillian hesitated before answering. "I don’t know. He’s been... distant lately."

Ever since the incident at the resort, Sebastian had been wrapped up in pack business, barely sparing her more than a few clipped words. She knew he was dealing with Alpha Maximilian’s threats, but the coldness in his tone stung more than she cared to admit.

Swallowing her unease, she swiped to answer. "Sebastian?"

His voice was crisp, devoid of its usual warmth. "Lillian. I need you at the packhouse. Now."

The line went dead before she could respond.

Beatrice frowned. "What was that about?"

Lillian set down her coffee, her fingers trembling slightly. "I don’t know. But it didn’t sound good."

She dressed quickly, pulling on a fitted black sweater and dark jeans before grabbing her jacket. Beatrice followed her to the door, worry etched across her face.

"Text me if you need backup, okay?"

Lillian nodded, forcing a smile. "Always."

The drive to the Blackwood estate was tense, her mind racing with possibilities. Had something happened with Alpha Maximilian? Was Donovan causing trouble again? Or worse—had Victoria found another way to sabotage her?

When she arrived, Theodore was waiting at the entrance, his expression unreadable.

"Miss Whitmore," he greeted stiffly. "Alpha Blackwood is in his study."

Lillian followed him inside, her pulse quickening with each step. The mansion was eerily silent, the usual bustle of pack members absent.

Sebastian stood by the window when she entered, his broad shoulders tense beneath his tailored suit. He didn’t turn as she approached.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.

Finally, he faced her, his golden eyes dark with something she couldn’t decipher.

"We have a problem," he said quietly. "And it involves you."

Lillian’s breath hitched. "What kind of problem?"

Sebastian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Someone leaked footage of you shifting during the resort attack. It’s gone viral."

Her blood ran cold. "What?"

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a growl. "Every pack in the country knows what you are now, Lillian. And not all of them are happy about it."

The weight of his words crashed over her.

She was no longer just a college student.

She was a target.

"Oliver! What in the world have you done?!" Victoria's sharp voice cut through the air from the back porch steps. I hadn’t even realized she was there, and I couldn’t help but wonder how long she had been watching us.

Sebastian’s son—Oliver—froze, his face paling as his eyes welled up with unshed tears. His bottom lip trembled before he managed to speak.

"I-I’m so sorry, Lillian," he choked out, his voice breaking. "I didn’t mean to. I just—" His words dissolved into a hiccup, reminding me once again that beneath his usual bravado, he was still just a little boy.

My expression softened as I knelt before him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It was an accident," I said gently, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. "I know you didn’t mean to, and I’m not angry with you, Oliver."

His gaze flickered downward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Dad’s going to be furious."

I shook my head. "Your father won’t hear a word about this from me. It’ll be our little secret."

His eyes lifted, searching mine for confirmation. "Really?"

"Of course," I assured him with a smile. "Now, why don’t you go get cleaned up? I’m sure dinner will be ready soon."

He wiped at the stray tears on his cheeks before nodding, offering me a small, grateful smile. "Okay," he murmured before turning and heading back toward the villa.

I exhaled, brushing the dirt from my pants as I stood.

"You’re really good with him," Victoria remarked, stepping closer. "I’ve never seen anyone handle him like that. No wonder he adores you."

I shrugged casually, reaching for my bag propped against a nearby tree. "I suppose I just have a way with kids."

But Victoria wasn’t convinced. "I think it’s more than that," she mused, watching me closely as I gathered my things. "He sees something in you that he hasn’t found in anyone else. It’s… fascinating, honestly."

The thought warmed me, and I couldn’t help but smile. "He’s a special boy," I said softly. "He deserves the world."

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I turned to her. "I should call an Uber and head out."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "You can’t leave looking like that!" she exclaimed, gesturing to my torn shirt, which was barely clinging to my frame. Thankfully, I had a sports bra underneath, but I still felt uncomfortably exposed.

"The last thing you need is some stranger ogling you," she insisted. "Come with me."

Before I could protest, she seized my arm and tugged me toward the villa. I didn’t resist—partly because I knew Sebastian would lose it if he found me upstairs, but Victoria didn’t seem to care. She led me down the hall until we reached what I assumed was her bedroom.

Victoria pulled me into her room with such force that I nearly tripped over my own feet. The door clicked shut behind me with finality, sealing me inside a space that reeked of Donovan's cologne—a scent that made my skin prickle with discomfort.

I hugged myself, my fingers digging into my arms as my gaze darted around the room. The bed, neatly made but undoubtedly shared countless times, sent a sharp twist of nausea through me. On the nightstand, a framed photo of Victoria and Donovan stared back at me—their eyes locked in a gaze so intimate it could fool anyone.

But I knew better.

Donovan didn't love her. He was playing a role, using her to secure his position as Alpha. The realization burned in my chest, and for a fleeting second, I considered warning her. But what good would it do? She’d never believe me. She’d think I was just jealous, bitter. And maybe I was—but that didn’t make the truth any less real.

I tore my eyes away from the photo just as Victoria began rifling through her closet, pulling out blouses and tossing them onto the bed.

"You really don’t have to do this," I said, my voice tight. The walls felt like they were closing in, the air thick with memories I didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Nonsense," she replied without turning around. "It’s nothing. Besides, you can’t walk around looking like that."

I glanced down at my torn shirt, the fabric barely holding together. She was right—but that didn’t make standing in this room any easier. Every breath I took was laced with his scent, every corner of the space a reminder of what he’d chosen over me.

And yet, Victoria moved through it all with oblivious grace, humming softly as she selected a silk blouse and held it up to me.

"Here," she said, smiling. "This will suit you."

I forced a nod, swallowing back the bitterness.

If only she knew.

The morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes of Lillian's bedroom at Blackwood Manor. She stretched lazily, her muscles still sore from yesterday's intense training session with Marcus. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm croissants drifted upstairs, making her stomach growl.

Downstairs in the grand dining room, Sebastian Blackwood sat reading the financial section of the morning paper while Oliver colored quietly beside him. The boy looked up as Lillian entered, his face lighting up immediately.

"Lily! You're finally awake!" Oliver scrambled from his chair, nearly knocking over his juice glass in his excitement. "Papa said we could go riding today if the weather stays nice."

Sebastian folded his newspaper with deliberate precision, his piercing gaze meeting Lillian's. "Good morning, Miss Whitaker. Did you sleep well?" His voice held that familiar deep timbre that always sent shivers down her spine.

Before she could respond, Theodore Whitmore entered with a silver tray bearing an envelope. "This arrived for you by special courier, Miss Whitaker."

Lillian's fingers trembled slightly as she recognized the elegant wax seal - the Winslow family crest. Breaking it open, she scanned the contents quickly, her breath catching in her throat.

"What is it?" Sebastian's voice sharpened, his protective instincts immediately on alert.

"It's... an invitation," Lillian managed to say. "From Eleanor Winslow. She's hosting a charity gala next week at Winslow Manor and has requested my presence."

Oliver tugged at her sleeve. "Are you going to go, Lily? Will there be dancing and fancy dresses?"

Sebastian's jaw tightened visibly. "Absolutely not. After what Donovan and his family put you through—"

"But it's not just about me," Lillian interrupted gently. She turned the invitation over, revealing a handwritten note at the bottom. "Eleanor says she wants to make amends. And... she mentions having information about my mother's current situation."

The room fell silent except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Sebastian's eyes darkened with concern. "This could easily be a trap."

Lillian squared her shoulders. "Then I'll be ready for it. Marcus has been training me well, and I won't go unprepared." She met Sebastian's gaze steadily. "I need to do this. For my mother's sake."

Sebastian studied her for a long moment before giving a curt nod. "Very well. But you won't go alone. I'll accompany you as your escort."

Oliver clapped his hands excitedly. "Does this mean I get to see Lily in a princess dress?"

The tension broke as Lillian laughed, ruffling the boy's hair. "Something like that, sweetheart." But when she glanced back at Sebastian, she saw the unspoken worry in his eyes. This gala would be far more than just a social event - it would be her first real confrontation with Donovan since their disastrous breakup, and the first time facing the Winslow family in their own territory.

As breakfast continued, Lillian couldn't shake the feeling that this invitation marked the beginning of something much bigger - a game where the stakes were higher than she could imagine, and where every move could change everything.