Chapter 93

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bedroom. Lillian stirred beneath the silk sheets, her body still humming with the remnants of last night’s passion. Beside her, Sebastian Blackwood lay sprawled, his muscular frame taking up most of the bed. His dark lashes fanned against his cheekbones, his breathing slow and even.

She should have felt content—blissful, even. But the weight of unspoken truths pressed against her chest like an anchor.

He still doesn’t know.

The thought gnawed at her as she slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him. The marble floor was cool beneath her bare feet as she padded to the window, gazing out at the sprawling estate below. The gardens were immaculate, the fountains glistening under the morning light. A perfect illusion of peace.

A knock at the door startled her.

"Miss Lillian?" Giselle Beaumont’s voice was soft but firm. "Breakfast is ready. Alpha Sebastian requested your presence in the dining hall."

Lillian swallowed hard. "Tell him I’ll be down shortly."

She dressed quickly, choosing a simple emerald-green dress that hugged her curves. The mirror reflected a woman who looked every bit the Lycan Alpha’s mate—except for the shadows in her eyes.

Downstairs, the scent of freshly baked croissants and rich coffee filled the air. Sebastian sat at the head of the table, his sharp gaze lifting as she entered.

"You’re late," he remarked, though his tone held no real bite.

"Forgive me," she murmured, sliding into the seat beside him. "I lost track of time."

His fingers brushed against hers beneath the table, sending a jolt of warmth through her. "You’ve been distracted lately."

Lillian forced a smile. "Just tired."

Sebastian studied her, his dark eyes probing. Before he could press further, Oliver bounded into the room, his cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Papa! Did you see? The new foal was born last night!"

Sebastian’s expression softened as he turned to his son. "I did. A strong one, just like his sire."

Oliver beamed, then glanced at Lillian. "You should come see, Lillian! He’s so tiny!"

She opened her mouth to reply, but a sharp pain lanced through her abdomen. She gasped, her fingers digging into the tablecloth.

Sebastian was on his feet instantly. "Lillian?"

The world tilted. The last thing she saw was his panicked face before darkness swallowed her whole.

When she came to, she was lying in a plush bed, the scent of antiseptic thick in the air. Dr. Langford stood nearby, her expression unreadable.

Sebastian loomed over her, his jaw clenched. "What the hell happened?"

Dr. Langford hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Miss Lillian is pregnant."

Silence.

Sebastian’s face went utterly still. Then, slowly, his gaze dropped to Lillian’s stomach.

Oh no.

Because the truth was far worse than he realized.

This child wasn’t his.

It was Donovan’s.

"No," Victoria murmured, her voice softening as she turned to me. "Honestly, I just wanted to spend time with you. I needed someone to talk to—someone who could help me sort through my thoughts and reassure me that I'm not losing my mind." She bit her lower lip, her gaze dropping to her fidgeting hands.

"What's bothering you?" I asked gently.

"Not here," she said after a brief pause, shaking her head. "Let's just enjoy the evening first. We can talk over dinner." I studied her for a moment before nodding. If she wasn't ready to open up now, I wouldn't push her. She clearly needed a distraction, something to ease the tension coiling inside her.

Thirty minutes later, we arrived in the heart of the bustling city. Frederick parked the sleek black car in front of an upscale department store, but unlike I expected, he didn’t step out with us. Instead, the two guards from the trailing vehicle emerged, dressed casually but with the unmistakable bulk of concealed weapons beneath their jackets. They kept a discreet distance, though their presence was impossible to ignore.

I appreciated their effort to remain unobtrusive, but I doubted Victoria cared. Her irritation was palpable as she shot them a sharp glare before turning away. "Let’s go in here," she declared, gesturing toward a high-end boutique I had only ever admired from afar. Even during my family’s wealthier days, I’d never dared step inside. But for Victoria, this was just another stop in her world of luxury.

"Pick out anything you like," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared between racks of designer clothing. "It’s on me."

"You really don’t have to—" I started, but she was already gone, swallowed by the sea of silk and chiffon.

Sighing, I wandered through the boutique, my fingers brushing against fabrics that cost more than my monthly rent. The opulence was overwhelming—gowns that belonged on red carpets, tailored suits fit for royalty. I couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to live as Victoria did, where money was never an obstacle, where every desire was just a swipe of a credit card away.

Then my gaze snagged on the jewelry counter.

Among the glittering displays, one piece stood out—a necklace with a deep ruby pendant, its crimson hue rich and hypnotic. The delicate chain was pure gold, and tiny diamonds encircled the gemstone, making it shimmer under the boutique’s soft lighting. It was breathtaking. Without thinking, I reached out, my fingertips hovering just above the ruby—

The display case snapped shut with a sharp click.

I barely yanked my hand back in time. My pulse spiked as I looked up into the furious eyes of the boutique clerk.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed through clenched teeth.

My throat went dry. "I—I was just looking—"

"You couldn't even afford the air in this boutique, let alone lay a finger on this necklace. Keep your filthy hands off!"

My face drained of color as my wolf snarled inside my head. She despised this woman’s condescending tone.

"Excuse me?"

"You should be excused," she sneered. "How dare you waltz into my boutique and think you have the right to touch anything here? You don’t belong."

"I’m a paying customer—"

She let out a sharp, mocking laugh, cutting me off.

"Oh, please. You couldn’t afford a single thread from our socks, much less actual jewelry," she drawled, eyeing me with disdain. Her gaze raked over my outfit, and her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Just look at you—dressed like some back-alley escort. Is that how you make your living? Must be exhausting, selling yourself for scraps."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," I snapped.

"I can’t believe you were about to tarnish a five-million-dollar necklace," she hissed, shaking her head as she carefully placed the piece back on display. "You’re lucky you didn’t ruin it—I’d have made you pay for every scratch. Now, spare yourself further humiliation and get out."

A deep, authoritative voice cut through the tension. "What’s going on here?"

A tall man in an immaculate designer suit stepped forward, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor. The woman behind the counter immediately straightened, her lips curling into a sycophantic smile.

"Sir, she nearly damaged the Isabella Fontaine ruby necklace," the woman tattled, pointing at me like I was a criminal.

The man’s cold eyes swept over me, assessing me from head to toe before narrowing.

"Do you have any comprehension of how much that necklace costs?" he demanded. "As the manager of this establishment, I enforce one simple rule: if you can’t afford what we sell, you don’t belong here. Unless you’re prepared to make a purchase, I suggest you leave."

The woman smirked. "Look at her—she couldn’t afford a hairpin from this place. She’s pathetic. Should I call security to escort her out, sir?"

Before the manager could respond, a familiar voice spoke from behind me, smooth and commanding.

"No need for security. I’m sure we can resolve this civilly."