Chapter 74

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sebastian Blackwood’s penthouse, illuminating the scattered papers on his desk. Lillian stirred in the massive bed, her limbs tangled in silk sheets, the scent of sandalwood and musk lingering in the air.

She blinked sleepily, her mind still foggy from last night’s events. The gala, the whispers, the way Donovan had stared at her from across the room—like a predator eyeing its prey.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Miss Lillian?" Giselle Beaumont, the head maid, peeked in, her expression carefully neutral. "Mr. Blackwood requests your presence in his study."

Lillian swallowed. "Now?"

Giselle nodded. "He mentioned it was urgent."

Urgent. The word sent a shiver down her spine.

She dressed quickly, slipping into a simple but elegant black dress—one of the many Sebastian had insisted on adding to her wardrobe. The fabric hugged her curves, the neckline dipping just low enough to be daring without crossing into indecent.

When she entered the study, Sebastian was standing by the window, his broad shoulders tense beneath his tailored suit. He didn’t turn as she approached, but she felt the shift in the air—the way his presence seemed to hum with restrained energy.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

Finally, he turned. His golden eyes burned with an intensity that made her breath hitch. "We have a problem."

Lillian frowned. "What kind of problem?"

Sebastian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. "Donovan."

Her stomach twisted. "What about him?"

"He’s making moves," Sebastian said, his voice low and dangerous. "Last night wasn’t just a social call. He was testing our defenses, looking for weaknesses."

Lillian crossed her arms. "And?"

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. "And he’s not working alone."

A chill settled over her. "Who else is involved?"

Before he could answer, the door burst open. Marcus Grayson, Sebastian’s beta, strode in, his expression grim. "We just got word. Alpha Harrison’s pack is mobilizing near the northern border."

Sebastian’s eyes darkened. "Harrison?"

Marcus nodded. "He’s allied with Donovan. They’re planning something big."

Lillian’s pulse spiked. "What do they want?"

Sebastian met her gaze, his voice barely above a growl. "You."

The word hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Lillian’s fingers curled into fists. "Then let them try."

A slow, predatory smile curved Sebastian’s lips. "That’s exactly what I wanted to hear."

But before he could say more, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression hardening. "It’s Victoria."

Lillian stiffened. Sebastian’s daughter had been engaged to Donovan before everything fell apart. If she was calling now…

Sebastian answered, his voice clipped. "What is it?"

The voice on the other end was frantic, the words too muffled for Lillian to make out. But she didn’t need to hear them to know—something was very, very wrong.

Sebastian’s grip on the phone tightened. "We’re on our way."

He hung up, his gaze locking onto Lillian’s. "Victoria’s been taken."

Lillian’s blood ran cold.

Sebastian’s next words sent a fresh wave of dread through her.

"And Donovan left a message."

He held out his phone. On the screen, a single sentence glared back at them:

"Come and get her, Alpha. If you dare."

The game had just changed.

And Lillian was right in the middle of it.

"And he knows that you aren't his biological father?" I asked softly, glancing down at a peacefully sleeping Oliver.

Sebastian nodded, his expression unreadable.

"Yes," he murmured. "He remembers his life with his mother. It wasn’t... easy. He still has nightmares sometimes." A shadow crossed his face before he continued, "He started calling me 'Dad' a few years after he came to live with me."

My heart clenched at the thought of Sebastian—a man known for his ruthless business dealings—being so tender with a child who wasn’t even his by blood. He treated Oliver as if he were his own, and I had never once doubted that bond.

"He’s family," Sebastian said simply, as if that explained everything.

I wanted to say more—to tell him how much I admired him for it—but the words stuck in my throat. What could I possibly say that wouldn’t sound trite? So instead, I stayed silent until the car rolled to a stop in front of the grand Blackwood estate.

"We should probably wake him," I suggested, smoothing a hand over Oliver’s tousled hair. "We have lessons to get through today."

Sebastian agreed with a quiet hum.

Gently, I nudged Oliver awake, brushing my fingers along his cheek. He looked so serene in sleep, his lashes fluttering as he stirred. A pang of guilt hit me for disturbing him, but soon his eyes blinked open, drowsy and disoriented.

"Are we home?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes," I answered at the same time Sebastian said, "We are."

Our voices overlapped, and when our eyes met, warmth spread across my cheeks. Sebastian’s lips quirked in amusement, and I quickly looked away before he could comment.

Oliver, now fully awake, suddenly threw his arms around me. "Thanks for helping today," he said, squeezing tight. "You were a really good mom."

My face burned.

Sebastian’s smirk deepened, and I hastily pushed the car door open, desperate to escape the moment. "Let’s go inside and get started," I said, stepping out before either of them could see how flustered I was.

Behind me, Oliver’s laughter rang out, bright and carefree.

Third Person POV

"Remind me again why we’re preparing a feast fit for royalty," Donovan muttered, eyeing the elaborate spread of dishes the maids had arranged across the dining table.

Victoria had been in a frenzy all morning, darting between the kitchen and the dining room like a woman possessed. Every platter had to be perfect, every garnish placed just so.

"Because my cousin Nathaniel is visiting from France!" she exclaimed, adjusting the placement of a silver serving tray. "I haven’t seen him since we were children, and this is his first time here. Everything has to be perfect!"

"Which country? And how long is he staying?"

"France," Victoria answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "He's here for a month. He's a journalist working on a global exposé—wanted to start his research here."

Donovan arched a brow. "So, Nathaniel is your father's nephew?"

"Yes," she confirmed with a soft smile. "My father is the middle child—he has an older sister and a younger brother. His brother left the country years ago."

"For his mate?" Donovan guessed.

Victoria nodded, her expression thoughtful. "He went to France on business and met her there. She refused to leave her homeland, and he refused to leave without her. So, he stayed. Started fresh. They only had one child—Nathaniel. He's just a few years older than me, and already making waves in his field."

"Do you have a picture of him?" Donovan asked, curiosity lacing his tone. "I wonder if I've heard of him."

Victoria pulled out her phone and swiped to a photo of Nathaniel Whitlock. The man looked like he'd stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine—golden curls, piercing sapphire eyes, and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. The resemblance to the Blackwood lineage was undeniable, from his sculpted features to his athletic build.

"You two could pass for siblings," Donovan remarked.

Victoria’s face lit up. "We heard that all the time growing up," she admitted. "We were close whenever I visited. France is beautiful, and I always had the best time with my father's family."

Donovan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Well, if he matters to you, he matters to me," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Looking forward to meeting him."

She leaned into his touch, warmth flooding her chest. "He should be here any minute."

Just then, one of the maids approached. "Miss Dumont and Master Oliver have gone out back for sparring practice. Should we set the food in the parlor?"