Chapter 73

The morning sun cast golden rays through the sheer curtains of Lillian’s bedroom, stirring her from restless dreams. She sat up abruptly, her heart pounding as fragments of last night’s confrontation with Donovan flashed through her mind. The scent of betrayal still clung to her skin, bitter and suffocating.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

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

Lillian swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady. "Yeah, come in."

Beatrice slipped inside, her usually bright eyes shadowed with concern. "You look terrible," she blurted, then winced. "Sorry. I mean—"

Lillian managed a weak laugh. "It’s fine. I feel terrible."

Beatrice perched on the edge of the bed, hesitating before speaking. "I heard what happened. Donovan and Evelyn…"

Lillian’s fingers tightened around the sheets. "Yeah. Turns out I was just a placeholder until he found his real mate."

Beatrice scowled. "That bastard. I always knew he was slimy."

Lillian sighed, rubbing her temples. "It doesn’t matter now. I just need to move on."

But moving on wasn’t that simple. Not when Donovan had been her first love, her first heartbreak. Not when the entire pack had witnessed her humiliation.

Beatrice nudged her shoulder. "You know what you need? A distraction. Let’s go to the café. Gabrielle just got a new espresso machine, and I heard she’s making killer caramel macchiatos."

Lillian hesitated. The thought of facing the crowded campus made her stomach churn. But hiding forever wasn’t an option.

"Fine," she relented. "But if anyone so much as looks at me with pity, I’m out."

Beatrice grinned. "Deal."

The café buzzed with chatter, the rich aroma of coffee wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. Gabrielle waved from behind the counter, her smile warm. "Lillian! I was hoping you’d stop by."

Lillian forced a smile. "Hey, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle’s expression softened. "I heard about… everything. If you need anything, just say the word."

Lillian nodded, grateful but exhausted by the sympathy. Beatrice quickly steered her toward a secluded corner table.

"See? Not so bad," Beatrice said, sliding into the chair opposite her.

Lillian sipped her coffee, the sweetness doing little to soothe the bitterness in her chest.

Then the door swung open.

Sebastian Blackwood strode in, his presence commanding the room’s attention. His sharp gaze swept the café before landing on Lillian.

Her breath hitched.

He approached without hesitation, his voice low but firm. "We need to talk."

Lillian’s pulse spiked. "About what?"

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. "About why Donovan’s sudden mate bond with Evelyn reeks of deception."

Lillian’s cup clattered against the saucer.

What?

Beatrice’s eyes widened. "Wait, you think it’s fake?"

Sebastian’s expression darkened. "I know it is. And I intend to prove it."

Lillian’s mind reeled. If Donovan had lied about the mate bond…

Then everything she thought she knew was a lie.

And Sebastian Blackwood was the only one who could help her uncover the truth.

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sebastian Blackwood’s penthouse, illuminating the spacious living area where Lillian sat curled up on the plush sofa. A steaming cup of coffee rested on the table in front of her, its rich aroma mingling with the faint scent of cedarwood—Sebastian’s signature scent.

She sighed, flipping through the pages of her textbook, but her mind was elsewhere. Last night’s argument with Donovan still lingered in her thoughts like a stubborn shadow. His words had been sharp, laced with bitterness, and though she had tried to remain composed, the sting of betrayal still burned.

The sound of footsteps pulled her from her reverie. Sebastian strode into the room, his tall frame exuding effortless authority. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d just run his fingers through it, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers.

“You’re up early,” he remarked, his voice low and smooth.

Lillian forced a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Sebastian studied her for a moment before crossing the room and settling beside her. The warmth of his presence was both comforting and electrifying.

“Donovan?” he guessed, his tone neutral.

She exhaled sharply. “It’s like he can’t let go. He keeps insisting we were meant to be, even though he’s the one who walked away.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. “He’s a fool.”

Lillian blinked, surprised by the vehemence in his voice. Before she could respond, the sound of tiny footsteps pattering down the hallway interrupted them. Oliver, Sebastian’s seven-year-old son, bounded into the room, his face alight with excitement.

“Lillian! Are we still going to the park today?” he asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

She chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Of course we are. Just let me finish this Chapter first.”

Sebastian watched the exchange, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Then, abruptly, he stood. “I have a meeting with Alpha Harrison in an hour. I’ll be back by noon.”

Lillian nodded, though a part of her wished he would stay.

As Sebastian turned to leave, Oliver tugged at his sleeve. “Dad, can we get ice cream after the park?”

Sebastian’s stern expression softened. “We’ll see.”

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Oliver leaned in conspiratorially. “He always says ‘we’ll see,’ but that means yes.”

Lillian laughed, the weight on her chest lifting slightly. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

But just as she was about to return to her book, her phone buzzed. A message from Evelyn flashed on the screen:

“We need to talk. It’s about Donovan.”

Her stomach twisted. What now?

Oliver trailed closely behind us, his small footsteps barely making a sound on the pavement.

We didn’t stop until we reached the car where Marcus Grayson waited, his posture rigid with tension. The other Gamma warriors stood guard at a careful distance—close enough to intervene if needed, but far enough to grant us privacy.

Sebastian Blackwood finally released my hand, his grip lingering for a fraction of a second before he turned to face us. His voice was low, controlled, but the storm in his eyes betrayed his anger.

"Care to explain what the hell you two were thinking?"

My gaze dropped to the ground, guilt twisting in my chest.

"It's my fault, Dad," Oliver blurted out before I could speak. His small hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I asked Lillian to pretend to be my mom. I didn’t want you to be upset. I was scared, so I begged her to help me during our tutoring session last night."

Sebastian’s piercing gaze flicked to me, his expression unreadable.

"And you agreed?" His voice was dangerously soft.

I swallowed hard. "I should have asked more questions. I’m an Alpha. I never meant to deceive you."

His jaw tightened. "You both acted recklessly. Did you honestly think no one would question my marital status? The entire world would know if I had remarried."

I bit my lower lip, nodding. "I wasn’t thinking clearly. I shouldn’t have implied we were married. I’m sorry."

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if disappointed. The weight of his disapproval made me feel like a child being scolded.

"Please, don’t be mad at her," Oliver pleaded, grabbing his father’s sleeve. "It was my idea. Lillian was just trying to help."

Sebastian’s gaze hardened. "She’s the adult. She should have known better."

I blinked back the sting of tears. "It’s all right, Oliver. You don’t need to defend me." Turning to Sebastian, I straightened my shoulders. "If you want to fire me, I understand. I’ll find another job."

For a long moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he rolled his eyes and strode toward the car without another word.

I watched his retreating back, confusion knotting my stomach.

Oliver glanced up at me, equally bewildered, before shrugging and following his father.

I remained rooted in place, unsure if I was meant to follow or if this was my dismissal.

It wasn’t until they were both inside the car that Marcus gave me a subtle nod—permission, or perhaps pity.

The moment I slid into the backseat of the sleek black car, Sebastian Blackwood’s piercing gaze flicked toward me.

"Get in. We don’t have all day," he muttered, his voice low and edged with impatience.

I quickly settled beside Oliver, who was already nestled against the plush leather seats. Marcus Grayson, ever the efficient Beta, had raised the privacy partition, sealing us off from the front. The city traffic was a sluggish river of red taillights, stretching our journey back to Sebastian’s villa longer than usual.

At some point, Oliver’s breathing evened out, his small head lolling onto my arm. The weight of him was warm, comforting.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, his eyes lingering on the sleeping boy.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, careful not to disturb Oliver. "For today. I shouldn’t have gone along with it."

His jaw tightened. "No, you shouldn’t have." The words were clipped, but his tone remained hushed—an unexpected consideration.

I turned my face toward the window, watching the blur of city lights. What else was there to say?

Then, quietly, he added, "But thank you for being there for him."

My breath hitched. I twisted back to face him, blinking. "You’re thanking me?"

"Don’t let it go to your head," he murmured, though something in his gaze softened. "Oliver doesn’t have a mother figure. It’s… good that you were there when he needed one."

A smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it.

Curiosity burned in my chest. "This might be bold, but… who is Oliver’s mother?"

Silence. Heavy and thick.

For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. That he’d shut me out like he always did.

Then his eyes met mine. "My sister."

I stiffened. "What?"

"Don’t misunderstand," he said sharply. "Oliver is my sister’s son. I’m his uncle."

The realization crashed over me—Oliver wasn’t Sebastian’s child. That explained why his identity had been shrouded in secrecy all this time.

My voice dropped to a whisper. "What happened to her?"

His fingers flexed against his knee. "She’s in rehab. Getting the help she needs. Oliver was taken from her when he was young. It wasn’t a safe place for him." A pause. "I didn’t want him growing up in the system, so I took him in. He started calling me 'Dad' a few years ago."

The weight of his words settled between us, heavy with unspoken pain.

And for the first time, I saw Sebastian Blackwood not just as the formidable Lycan chairman—but as a man who had shouldered a burden he never asked for.