Chapter 98

The crisp morning air carried the scent of pine as Lillian stepped onto the balcony of Sebastian Blackwood's estate. The sun had barely risen, casting golden streaks across the sprawling grounds below. She tightened the silk robe around her, the fabric whispering against her skin.

Inside, the mansion buzzed with quiet activity. Giselle Beaumont, the head maid, directed a team of servants preparing breakfast, while Lucien Dubois, the flirtatious head chef, hummed a French tune as he arranged delicate pastries on silver trays.

Lillian's thoughts drifted to Donovan—her ex-fated mate—and the bitter sting of betrayal still fresh in her mind. She had trusted him, loved him, only for him to discard her like yesterday’s news for Evelyn. The memory twisted her stomach, but she refused to let it break her.

A soft knock interrupted her reverie.

"Lillian?" Beatrice’s voice was muffled through the door. "Are you awake? Sebastian wants to see you before breakfast."

Lillian sighed, running a hand through her tousled hair. "I’ll be right there."

Downstairs, Sebastian sat at the head of the dining table, his sharp blue eyes scanning documents. Oliver, his seven-year-old son, was already digging into a stack of pancakes, syrup dripping down his chin.

"You wanted to see me?" Lillian asked, lingering in the doorway.

Sebastian glanced up, his expression unreadable. "We have a situation."

Her pulse quickened. "What kind of situation?"

"Victoria," he said, his voice low. "She’s missing."

Lillian’s breath hitched. Victoria—Sebastian’s daughter and Donovan’s fiancée—had vanished overnight.

"Are you sure she didn’t just—"

"She left no note, no message," Sebastian interrupted. "And Julian Mercer, her assigned guard, was found unconscious in the gardens."

A cold dread settled over Lillian. This wasn’t a coincidence.

Beatrice stepped forward, her face pale. "You don’t think… Donovan had something to do with this?"

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. "I intend to find out."

Lillian swallowed hard. If Donovan was involved, this wasn’t just about Victoria. It was personal.

And she would make sure he regretted it.

"Are they still out there?" One of the rogues whispered, peering into the dimly lit cage.

"Seems like it," his companion grumbled, rubbing his tired eyes. "It's getting late. Maybe we should just finish this tomorrow."

"The boss was clear—he wants it done tonight," the first rogue argued, though his voice lacked conviction.

"Yeah, but he also said she needs to be awake. He wants her to know why she’s dying. Wants it recorded as proof," the second reminded him, shifting uncomfortably.

"And the other one?"

"Consider it a bonus," the rogue chuckled darkly. "Let’s get some rest and come back at dawn."

Their footsteps faded as they left, the heavy door creaking shut behind them. Only then did I dare open my eyes, releasing a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I glanced down at Victoria, still unconscious beside me. Her breathing was slow, her face pale. I counted the seconds, waiting for any sign of her waking. When her fingers twitched against my side, relief washed over me. Finally. I wouldn’t have to face this nightmare alone.

Gently, I shifted her head onto my lap as she stirred. It took agonizing minutes—soft groans, fluttering lashes, the slow return of awareness. She probably felt like she’d been hit by a truck.

Then, her eyes opened.

"Lillian?" Her voice was barely a whisper, rough with confusion. "W-what… what happened?"

"Don’t panic," I murmured, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me.

She lifted her head—then gasped, jerking back as the silver cuffs seared her skin. Her wide, terrified eyes locked onto mine.

"W-why—?" she stammered, her breath coming too fast.

"I told you not to freak out," I said, trying to sound calm.

But it was too late. She took in the rusted bars, the damp concrete floor, the suffocating darkness beyond. Tears welled in her eyes.

"What’s happening?" she choked out.

"We’ll figure it out," I promised, though I had no idea how. "We’ll get out of here."

Her whole body trembled as she sat up, wiping furiously at her tears. "H-how? Why would anyone—?"

"I don’t know," I admitted, hugging my knees to my chest. "But they’re waiting until morning."

Her breath hitched. "For what?"

I swallowed hard. "I think… they want to kill us."

Donovan had instructed his subordinate to arrange for thugs to abduct Lillian and hold her captive—just enough to instill some fear in her. His grand scheme was to swoop in as the hero, rescuing her in the nick of time. Overwhelmed with gratitude, she would surely agree to become his mistress, granting him everything he desired.

But what Donovan didn’t know was that his subordinate had other plans.

He had always despised Lillian—the perfect little princess at school, the one who outshone him in every exam and humiliated him during combat training. Instead, he had formed an unlikely alliance with Cassandra, bonding over their mutual loathing for Lillian. Both wanted her gone, and now, he had the perfect opportunity to make it happen.

Donovan believed Lillian was safe—just a pawn in his game—but his subordinate had secretly hired rogues to eliminate her and stage it as an accident. He even demanded video proof, knowing Cassandra would relish watching the footage. It was the perfect crime—no blood on his hands, and all blame would fall on the rogues.

Unaware of the betrayal, Donovan assumed his packmates were handling the job. By the time he realized rogues had taken Lillian and rushed to "rescue" her the next evening, it would be too late. She’d already be dead, and the rogues would take the fall.

Meanwhile, Sebastian Blackwood waited impatiently for his daughter’s return. But when his guards and Frederick Hastings came back without Victoria, his blood ran cold.

"Where is my daughter?" Sebastian demanded, rising to his full height, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. The men exchanged uneasy glances.

"We thought she took an Uber or something," Frederick stammered. "She insisted the guards stay outside the restaurant while she and Miss Lillian dined. They never came out."

"What?!" Sebastian’s roar shook the walls, his fury palpable.

"After a while, we checked inside," one guard admitted, voice trembling. "The hostess said they left through the back door. We assumed they were trying to ditch us and took a ride home."

Frederick frowned. "She hasn’t returned?"

Sebastian saw nothing but red.

A deafening growl erupted from his chest, vibrating through the villa, echoing for miles.

"WHERE THE HELL IS MY DAUGHTER?!"