Chapter 60

The night air was thick with tension as Lillian stood frozen in the dimly lit hallway of the Blackwood estate. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat echoing like a war drum in her ears. The scent of cedar and bergamot—Sebastian’s signature fragrance—lingered in the air, but it was undercut by something darker, something primal.

He knows.

The realization struck her like a physical blow. Sebastian had discovered her secret—the truth about her past with Donovan. She had hoped to bury it forever, but fate had other plans.

A floorboard creaked behind her.

Lillian didn’t turn. She didn’t need to. The weight of his presence pressed against her back, suffocating and electric all at once.

"Running away again, little wolf?" Sebastian’s voice was low, a velvet growl that sent shivers down her spine.

She swallowed hard, forcing steel into her voice. "I wasn’t running."

"Liar." His fingers brushed the nape of her neck, feather-light yet possessive. "You’ve been hiding from me since the moment you stepped foot in this house."

Lillian flinched. He wasn’t wrong. Every stolen glance, every carefully constructed excuse—she had been avoiding this confrontation. But now, there was nowhere left to hide.

She spun to face him, her golden eyes blazing. "What do you want from me, Sebastian?"

His lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach his storm-gray eyes. "The truth."

A bitter laugh escaped her. "The truth? Fine. You want to know why I left Donovan? Because he sold me out to the highest bidder. Because he chose power over me." Her voice cracked. "And because I was stupid enough to believe he loved me."

Sebastian’s expression darkened. For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Then—

A crash echoed from downstairs.

They both stiffened.

"Oliver," Sebastian muttered, already moving toward the sound.

Lillian followed, her pulse racing for an entirely different reason now. The boy—his son—was in danger.

But when they reached the grand foyer, the scene before them was nothing like what she expected.

Oliver stood in the center of the room, surrounded by shattered glass. His small hands trembled as he clutched a framed photograph—one of Sebastian’s late wife, Penelope.

"Daddy," the boy whispered, tears streaking his cheeks. "I saw her. In the garden. She was crying."

Sebastian went utterly still.

Lillian’s breath caught.

Because in that moment, she understood.

This wasn’t just about her and Donovan.

This was about ghosts.

And some ghosts refused to stay buried.

How did every professor know about my dyslexia? And how in the world had the dean found out? My doctors and therapists had sworn confidentiality—no one outside my inner circle was supposed to know. I didn’t want pity or special treatment, as if I were some fragile thing incapable of keeping up. But now, my worst fear was unfolding right before me. They all knew. And worse, they thought I was the one cheating, the one who had orchestrated Cassandra’s expulsion.

The accusation burned in my chest, tightening like a vise. I couldn’t stand there any longer, listening to Gabrielle and Professor Montgomery whisper about me as if I weren’t standing just around the corner. I refused to let their assumptions ruin my favorite class—or let them believe I wasn’t capable of excelling on my own.

With my arms crossed, I stepped into view. Gabrielle’s face drained of color, her lips parting in shock. She knew. She knew I’d heard everything.

"Lillian!" she gasped, stumbling over her words. "H-how long have you been—?"

"Long enough," I cut in, my voice sharp. "Care to explain why the entire faculty knows about my dyslexia?"

Professor Montgomery stiffened, his gaze dropping to the floor. "The dean called an emergency meeting this morning. He… informed us."

My jaw clenched. "And how did he find out? That was supposed to be private."

"I don’t know," he admitted. "He didn’t say. Must’ve gotten outside information."

I stepped closer, my stare unwavering. "Let’s make one thing clear, Professor. I earned my place here. No shortcuts, no bribes—just hard work. My dyslexia doesn’t make me less capable. If anything, it pushes me to work twice as hard. I’ve made it this far without hand-holding, and I won’t let anyone treat me like I can’t handle the same material as everyone else. If you can’t teach me the way you teach the others, then maybe I should find a professor who can."

Gabrielle smirked, arms folded. "Told you," she muttered to her brother.

Professor Montgomery shifted uncomfortably, shame flickering across his face. "I… apologize, Miss Dumont. You’re right. I shouldn’t have assumed—"

The tension in the room was thick enough to slice through as I crossed my arms, my gaze unwavering. "Just because I've acquired this knowledge doesn't make me incapable. I expect my apologies to be delivered—not just to my professors, but to the dean as well. I don’t need their condescending 'help' as if I’m some helpless novice." My voice was sharp, laced with irritation.

Professor Montgomery lowered his head in reluctant agreement. "Understood," he murmured.

I exhaled sharply, unaware I’d been holding my breath until that moment. So that’s why my professors had been acting so oddly today.

Shaking off the lingering frustration, I turned my attention back to the matter at hand. "Now, what exactly were you two discussing before I arrived? Unless it was still about me," I said, glancing between them with a raised brow.

Professor Montgomery rifled through his folder before pulling out a sheet of paper. "I’m introducing a new combat maneuver today," he explained, handing it over. "These are the coordinates for the exercise I want everyone to practice."

I scanned the document quickly, my lips curving into a confident smirk. "Seems straightforward enough."