Chapter 75

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sebastian Blackwood's penthouse, painting the marble floors with streaks of light. Lillian stretched lazily in the oversized bed, her fingers brushing against the cold silk sheets where Sebastian had been moments before. The scent of his expensive cologne still lingered, mingling with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifting from the kitchen.

She padded barefoot across the room, her toes sinking into the plush carpet. The penthouse was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of last night's pack meeting. Voices had risen, tempers had flared, and for the first time since she'd arrived, Lillian had seen the cracks in Sebastian's usually unshakable composure.

The kitchen was empty, save for a steaming mug of coffee left on the counter—black, just how she liked it. A small note rested beside it in Sebastian's precise handwriting: "Emergency meeting. Don't wait up."

Lillian sighed, wrapping her fingers around the warm ceramic. She didn't need to ask what the meeting was about. The tension between Sebastian and Alpha Maximilian Voss had been palpable, their rivalry escalating with each passing day. And now, with the upcoming Lycan Summit, the stakes were higher than ever.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, startling her. Beatrice's name flashed across the screen, followed by a string of frantic texts:

"Lil, you need to see this. NOW."

"It's all over social media."

"Call me ASAP."

Frowning, Lillian tapped the link Beatrice had sent. The screen loaded to reveal a grainy video—security footage from some upscale club. Her breath hitched as the camera zoomed in on a familiar figure: Donovan, his arm slung around a woman who wasn't Evelyn. They were laughing, his fingers tracing circles on her bare shoulder. The timestamp read last night.

Lillian's grip on the phone tightened. This wasn't just a scandal—it was a calculated move. Donovan knew the summit was days away, knew the media would eat this up. And if the packs saw their future Alpha Consort's ex-mate embroiled in controversy, it would reflect poorly on Sebastian.

The coffee turned bitter in her mouth. She needed to act fast.

Dumping the rest of the mug into the sink, she dialed Beatrice. "Meet me at the boutique in twenty. We have damage control to do."

Beatrice didn't argue. "I'll bring the big guns."

Lillian was already pulling on a leather jacket when the penthouse elevator dinged. The doors slid open to reveal Sebastian, his tailored suit immaculate but his expression stormy. Behind him, Marcus Grayson looked equally grim.

Sebastian's gaze locked onto hers. "You've seen it."

She nodded. "We need to spin this before it spins us."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I've already called a press conference."

Lillian shook her head. "No. Let me handle Donovan my way."

Sebastian's eyes darkened, but before he could protest, Marcus cleared his throat. "Alpha, the car's waiting. The council won't be patient."

For a heartbeat, Sebastian hesitated. Then he stepped forward, cupping Lillian's face. His thumb brushed her cheekbone, his voice low. "Be careful."

She leaned into his touch. "Always."

As the elevator doors closed behind them, Lillian exhaled sharply. Time to remind Donovan why crossing her was a mistake.

Her phone buzzed again—a new message from an unknown number:

"Looking forward to our reunion, little wolf."

The screen went black before she could reply.

Lillian's pulse spiked.

Game on.

"Natalia?" Donovan inquired.

Victoria giggled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Childhood nickname," she explained. "Nate, this is my fiancé, Donovan."

"Ah, the legendary Donovan. It's an honor to finally meet you. My cousin has told me so much," Nathaniel said, extending his hand for a firm shake.

"I've read some of your articles recently. You've made quite a name for yourself in France. Impressive work," Donovan remarked, his tone genuine.

"Why don't we move to the parlor? There's refreshments waiting," Victoria suggested, looping her arm through Nathaniel's and guiding him down the hall toward the cozy back room.

As they settled onto the plush couches and helped themselves to the spread of hors d'oeuvres, Nathaniel and Donovan fell into an animated discussion about business strategies and the future expansion of Nathaniel's media empire. Victoria listened with quiet pride, her heart swelling at how effortlessly the two most important men in her life connected.

"So, you're next in line to become Alpha after your father steps down?" Donovan asked after Nathaniel explained his lineage—his mother being the daughter of a former Alpha, his father assuming the role after her father's passing, making Nathaniel the sole heir.

Nathaniel owned a thriving French news magazine that was rapidly gaining international recognition. As part of the Whitlock family, they were already well-established, with extensive property holdings across France. While not as globally dominant as Sebastian Blackwood—the most powerful Lycan chairman in the world—the Whitlocks were still a force to be reckoned with, their wealth and influence undeniable. Donovan found himself fascinated by Nathaniel's stories, understanding exactly why Victoria adored him. Their bond was unmistakable—playful teasing, shared laughter—like siblings who had grown up side by side.

"Where’s my uncle, by the way?" Nathaniel asked, scanning the room as if expecting Sebastian to materialize out of thin air.

"He’s at the packhouse handling some business," Victoria answered. "He’ll likely join us later. He’s been spending more time there since Oliver got a new tutor."

"Another one?" Nathaniel arched a brow. "From what you’ve told me, this must be the tenth tutor he’s gone through."

Victoria nodded, biting her lip. "Yes, but I think this one might actually stick. Oliver seems to like her, and she’s lasted two weeks without any incidents. They’re outside now, practicing sparring and defense. Maybe you’ll meet her later—she’s really something."

"Sounds promising," Nathaniel murmured, reaching for a delicate finger sandwich. "These are delicious."

"Turkey and brie," Victoria said, taking one for herself. "My favorite. I had a feeling you’d like them too."

He grinned and took another bite.

"So, Donovan, Victoria tells me you’re set to become the next Alpha of the Redmoon pack. Congratulations are in order," Nathaniel said, raising his glass of sparkling cider in a toast.

"Not quite yet, but I’m working toward it," Donovan admitted, slipping an arm around Victoria, who nestled closer.

"Don’t listen to him, Nate. My father adores him. It’s practically a done deal—Donovan was born for this," Victoria declared.

"Your faith in me is touching, my love," Donovan murmured, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, eliciting a soft laugh from her.

"You two are nauseatingly sweet. I hope one day I’ll be lucky enough to find a love like that," Nathaniel sighed, leaning back into the cushions.

Just as the words left his lips, Lillian strode into the parlor, oblivious to the attention she commanded. Dressed in a fitted workout bra that accentuated her toned physique and snug shorts that hugged her curves, she was the picture of effortless allure.

Her hair was damp, tied into a high ponytail, sweat glistening along her collarbone and down her exposed shoulders. A faint flush colored her cheeks, her skin glowing with exertion. She was radiant—utterly breathtaking.

Donovan didn’t realize he was staring until she disappeared into the kitchen, breaking the spell.

"Who was that?" Nathaniel asked, his gaze locked on the doorway she’d vanished through.

"Oliver’s tutor, Lillian Montague," Victoria answered, a hint of pride in her voice.

The reply snapped Donovan back to reality, and he blinked at Nathaniel, whose attention remained fixed on the kitchen entrance. Moments later, Lillian reappeared, a water bottle in hand. She tipped it against the back of her neck, sighing softly as the cool liquid soothed her heated skin.

The sound sent an unexpected jolt through Donovan—and judging by the darkening of Nathaniel’s eyes, he wasn’t immune either.

Lillian took a long drink, water trickling down her chin as she swallowed. Her gaze flickered over them—first Donovan, then Victoria, before lingering on Nathaniel a beat too long. A small, knowing smile curved her lips before she capped the bottle and turned to leave, heading back outside to rejoin Oliver.

"Oh my goddess," Nathaniel breathed. "She’s stunning."