CHAPTER 2

LILLIAN’S POV

The cottage door creaked open before I could knock.

Mum stood there, her apron dusted with flour, her grey streaked braids flying around at the ends. For an heartbeat, we just stared. Then her hands flew to her mouth.

“Lillian” She gasped breathlessly. My name cracked in her throat like a bone. She lurched forward, crushing me against her chest. The scent of cinnamon and yeast…home, flooded my lungs.

“I am sorry mum,” I whispered into her hair, my eyes wet with tears. “I am so sorry I stayed away—”

She gripped my shoulders, her calloused thumbs digging in as she placed me at arms length, as her eyes roved around my body. “Look at you.” Her voice trembled. “My girl. All grown up and….” Her eyes flicked to my designer blazer, my manicured nails and muttered, “Different.”

I flinched. Different. Not the tear stained, heartbroken girl who had fled Luxembourg in a hand-me-down coat.

Inside, the cottage had not changed one bit. Same faded quilt on the sofa. Same chipped faded colored mugs with ‘world’s best mum’ beside the sink. Same photo on the center table, me at fourteen, grinning beside Josh in my new school uniform. I was so excited that day.

The day before I was embarrassed by Drake and his friends and laughed at by the whole school.

I turned the frame face down.

Mum noticed. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she poured tea. After an awkward minute, she said softly, “You are here for the conference.”

Not a question.

“Yes” I nodded. “I leave Sunday morning.”

The kettle whistled loudly, startling me in the process.

“Josh had informed me earlier that Drake’s giving the speech.” She said as she passed me a cup of tea, without raising her head to look at me.

My fingers clenched around the mug as I muttered under my breath, “I won’t see him. I will sit at the back.”

She laughed and turned to look at me incredulously, “You think he won’t scent you the moment you walk in?”

The tea burned my tongue. Or maybe that was shame.

*******

An hour later, I stood up abruptly and said uneasily, “I should check into my hotel.”

Mum stared at me in surprise and asked, “You are not staying here?”

No I couldn’t. Not with Drake’s estate looming over us. Not where his laughter might drift through the walls.

“No mum. Work booked me a suite,” I lied.

She studied me, then sighed deeply and said with a sad smile on her face, “Take the garden path. It’s faster and no one ever strolled down that way at this hour.”

I hugged her goodbye and she held me desperately, like she feared I would vanish again.

Twilight bled through the tall trees as I hurried with bated breath down the gravel path. Every rustle made my pulse drop. The Alpha’s gardens had always been beautiful, manicured hedges, moonflowers and crystal seeds glowing white, but now they felt like a gilded cage.

Then I heard it.

Or I thought I did. Mum had said no one passes here at this hour anyway.

But then I heard it again, unmistakably.

Footsteps. I froze. Maybe it’s just the gardener or the wind.

“Lillian?”

That voice. My heart skipped a beat.

Deep. Smooth. Unmistakable.

I turned slowly.

Drake Blackwood stood ten feet away, silhouetted by the setting sun. Looking more handsome than ever as his charcoal colored suit clung to his broad shoulders, his amber eyes wide. No smirk. No scorn. Just pure shock.

“You.”

My name wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.

He took a step forward and instinctively, I retreated, my heels catching on a root. Drake’s hand shot out—too fast, steadying me and a current, like an electric came alive in me.

We both jerked back like we had been burned. From the look on his eyes, he must have felt it too.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he said stiffly.

A laugh clawed up my throat as I said croakily, “Clearly.”

His jaw tightened and he asked, “How long are you staying?”

Not long enough for you to hurt me again. “Just the weekend.”

Silence. The air between us thickened, charged with everything unsaid. His gaze traced my face—lingering on the freckles on my cheeks, the ones he had once mocked, the lips he had laughed at when they had trembled.

Then he muttered awkwardly, “You look….good.”

My pulse quickened. Good? Not ‘you look terrible’ or ‘still a mess, I see?’

Before I could retort, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then back at me. “The conference—?”

“I will be there.” My voice cold as ice. “Professionally. That’s all.”

Something flickered in his eyes…irritation? Regret? But he just nodded and said flatly, “Then I will see you tomorrow.”

He walked away in long steady strides and his scent—oud, clinging to the air like a ghost.

I didn’t breath again until his footsteps faded.

At the hotel, my hands shook as I unlocked my suite. Fuck! Seeing Drake again had made me so unsettled with my emotions all over the place. I had braced myself for hatred. For cruelty. Not….whatever that was.

I yanked open the minibar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey.

Then my phone lit up. Mum.

“After that encounter, he had always asked about you. Every year. Never stopped.”

The glass slipped from my fingers.