Chapter 68

The crisp morning air carried the scent of pine as Lillian stepped onto the balcony of Sebastian Blackwood's mountain retreat. Below, the training grounds buzzed with activity—warriors sparring, gammas running drills, and the occasional growl of shifting lycans. She tightened the sash of her silk robe, the fabric whispering against her skin.

"Miss Lillian?" A deep voice startled her. Donovan stood in the doorway, his amber eyes glinting with something unreadable. "You're up early."

She resisted the urge to bare her teeth. "Unlike some, I don't need beauty sleep to function."

His chuckle grated like gravel. "Still feisty. I'd heard Blackwood tamed you."

The lie burned her tongue. "Sebastian respects my fire. Something you never understood."

A crash from the courtyard drew their attention. Oliver, Sebastian's seven-year-old son, had toppled a training dummy twice his size. The boy scrambled up, grinning at his own mischief. Lillian's chest tightened—he had his father's stubborn chin.

"Speaking of understanding," Donovan leaned against the railing, too close, "you should know Evelyn's pregnant."

The world tilted. Lillian's claws pricked her palms. "Congratulations," she forced out. "Another pawn for your games."

His smile turned predatory. "Blackwood hasn't told you, has he? The council's vote is tonight. If he loses the chairmanship—"

"Enough." Sebastian's voice cut through the tension like a blade. He materialized behind Donovan, silver-streaked hair catching the dawn light. "My mate doesn't concern herself with pack politics."

Donovan's smirk faltered at the word mate. With a mocking bow, he retreated inside.

Sebastian's hand found the small of Lillian's back. "You're shaking."

She turned into his embrace, inhaling his cedar-and-bergamot scent. "Why didn't you tell me about the vote?"

His grip tightened. "Because I won't lose." But the shadow in his storm-gray eyes betrayed him.

From the gardens below, Victoria's laughter floated up—Donovan's fiancée, blissfully unaware of the viper in her bed. Lillian's wolf snarled. "We need to—"

A guttural howl interrupted her. Marcus Grayson, Sebastian's beta, sprinted toward them, his usually impeccable uniform torn. "Alpha! The perimeter's breached. Levi's pack—they've brought silver."

Sebastian's transformation was instantaneous. Fur rippled across his skin as he shoved Lillian toward the door. "Get Oliver to the safe room. Now."

As she grabbed the boy's hand, the first explosion rocked the mountainside. Glass shattered. Somewhere, Victoria screamed.

And in the chaos, Lillian caught Donovan's triumphant grin—directed not at the attackers, but at Sebastian's unprotected back.

I still couldn't believe I had actually agreed to this. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I frowned. The tailored business suit I wore made me look at least a decade older. Oliver had been right—I could easily pass for his mother.

For a brief moment, doubt crept in. What if I look too young? Will the teachers really buy this? But the moment I slipped into one of my mother’s professional outfits, those worries vanished.

A quick glance at the clock told me I had mere minutes before my Uber arrived to take me to Oliver’s school. I hadn’t even asked what he’d done to land himself in trouble. I should’ve gotten details—how am I supposed to play the angry, scolding parent if I don’t even know what I’m scolding him for?

Running my fingers through my hair, I debated pulling it into a low ponytail instead of leaving it loose. Swallowing hard, I shook my head. No. If I can’t sell the "strict mother" act, my next best option is to flirt with the teacher. Beatrice would definitely say that if she knew what I was up to today.

A sharp honk outside signaled my ride’s arrival. I took a deep breath, gave myself one last critical look in the mirror, and nodded. Satisfied, I snatched my purse from the bed, slung it over my shoulder, and hurried out.

To my surprise, my mother was in the living room when I descended the stairs—and she was drinking coffee. She offered me a small smile and tilted her head toward the kitchen.

"I brewed some if you'd like a cup," she said.

"You made coffee?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

Her eyebrows arched. "I am capable of making coffee, Lillian," she replied dryly.

I blinked. "That’s not what I meant, Mom. It’s just… you haven’t really been up for doing much lately. I’m glad you’re out of bed."

She took another slow sip. "I figured it’s time for changes. Can’t exactly start fresh if I’m holed up in my room all day, can I?"

Smiling, I rounded the couch and wrapped my arms around her. For a second, her body tensed—but then she relaxed, resting her head against my shoulder.

Then she pulled back, frowning.

"Are you wearing my clothes?"

I swallowed hard and let out an awkward laugh.

"I have an interview," I lied smoothly, adjusting the strap of my bag. "I needed something professional to wear."

Her eyes brightened with hope. "Would this job pay well?"

I nodded, letting a small, determined smile curve my lips. "Maybe even enough to help with Dad's debt."

The way her face lit up made my chest tighten.

"I'm meeting with his lawyers today to discuss other options they might have found," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I’ll let you know what they say."

I gave her a quick nod. "I’ll be home a little later. We can talk then."

Outside, the Uber’s impatient honking grew louder. If I didn’t move now, the driver would leave without me.

"I have to go," I murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Love you."

"Love you too, Lillian," she replied softly, her gaze lingering on me as I hurried out.

The ride to the school was silent, the tension in my stomach coiling tighter with every passing minute. When the car finally pulled up, I thanked the driver and slipped out, my pulse hammering in my throat.

The school halls were eerily quiet, most students already in class. The main office wasn’t far—just past the front entrance. Inside, a young blonde receptionist was typing furiously, her attention locked on her screen. She didn’t even glance up as I approached.

I cleared my throat—once, twice—before she finally sighed and lifted her gaze.

"Can I help you?" she asked, arching one perfectly sculpted brow.

"Yes," I said, squaring my shoulders. "I’m here to see the headmaster."

Her eyes flicked over me, assessing. "And you are?"

"Lillian Whitaker," I lied smoothly. "I’m Oliver’s mother."

For a heartbeat, she just stared. Then her lips twitched. A snort escaped her before she burst into laughter, leaning back in her chair like I’d told the funniest joke in the world.

My cheeks burned.

Of course she saw right through me. If I were Mrs. Blackwood, that would mean I was married to Sebastian Blackwood—Lycan chairman, notorious bachelor, and the most sought-after man in the city.

I should’ve thought that through.

But the lie was out now, and there was no taking it back.