CHAPTER 4

LILLIAN POV

My head pounded like a war drum.

I groaned and peeled my face from the pillow, wincing as sunlight stabbed through the crack in the hotel curtains. “Goddess, why did I drink so much last night?”

Then it struck me—the conference.

My stomach twisted, and I barely had time to roll over before I was gagging, my body convulsing as I dry heaved over the side of the bed. Nothing came up—just bile and regret.

I collapsed back against the sheets, my breath coming in short, shaky gasps. The memories of last night flooded back in jagged pieces—the manor, the garden path, the snap of a twig, and then him.

Drake.

“Lillian?”

“You look…good?”

“He asked about you every year”

Who? Drake?

The same Drake who never noticed me when we were kids? The same Drake who had organized the whole school to mock me?

Yeah right.

I forced myself to sit up, my head spinning and dragged myself to the bathroom, my legs unsteady. The mirror showed a stranger—pale skin, dark circles under her eyes, her hair in a tangled mess. She looked like hell.

I stumbled into the shower, letting the boiling water burn away the shame. But no amount of heat could erase the other memory clawing at my skull

And then, like a ghost whispering in my ear, the other memory surfaced.

Majestic High. Ten years ago.

I was sixteen, a scholarship student—the maid’s daughter—allowed into the elite shifter school only because the Luna had taken pity on my mother. I had kept my head down, my uniform neat but cheap, my shoes patched.

And then there was Drake.

Future Alpha, Beautiful. Cruel.

I had loved him from the very beginning. Since I was Ten.

My only friend, Josh, had encouraged me one day at the library. “Just tell him. Write a letter. He can not ignore words on paper. Who knows, he might have a crush on you too.”

So I did.

But it wasn’t just a love letter. It was a plea and I had spent nights after nights crafting it—my messy heart poured onto stolen parchment with ink.

‘Dear Drake…

I hope this letter meets you well…

My name is Lily Stewart from second grade.

I know you are an ‘approachable’ but I’m sorry, for I couldn’t resist reaching out…

Thank you for helping me stay in school when no one else would. If anyone found out who I really am, I would be expelled—or worse. But despite everything, I can’t help how I feel about you.

Please…please, destroy this letter. If it gets out…I will lose everything.

Yours…

Lillian.’

Pathetic. Delusional.

I had slipped it into his locker before dawn with shaky hands.

The next morning, one of the teachers dragged me by the ear to the cafeteria, where Drake stood at the center of the room, his two friends beside him, with a scowl on his face. My letter held between his fingers like something filthy.

“I hope this letter meets you well—” he read aloud, his voice dripping with mockery. “Well, it didn’t . Did you practice this garbage, scholarship girl?”

Andre wolf-whistled. Lucas had smirked.

But the worst part? The teacher had let it all happen.

His voice was ice and his stare, cold as he tore my letter in half. “You are right. I don’t feel the same. But your secret is safe. Consider this gone.”

But he had lied.

A week later, fragments of my letter surfaced… “resist reaching out,” “love letter,” “stay in school,” …scribbled on bathroom walls. The school turned on me like wolves scenting blood.

Mrs Willis, the head teacher who had never once looked at me with disgust, hissed at me at the corridors, “This is what happens when low-life like you forget their place.”

The whispers followed immediately, like a plague….

“A maid’s daughter thinking she could be Luna?”

“She is so delusional.”

“Stupid low life.”

Drake never explained. Never stopped it.

She had to leave Luxembourg after that.

My mother sobbed as she watched me pack up my luggage. “Why Cheri? Why did you have to write that letter? I had always thought this was just an harmless crush.”

The Luna, her once-kindness gone cold, had dismissed me without a reference.

The pack’s whispers had chased me all the way to the airport….

“There goes the Luna-wannabe.”

“Pathetic.”

“Drake was too lenient with her. He should have had her punished.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, the memory like a knife twisting in my gut and heard my phone buzz violently on the nightstand

I stumbled out of the shower, water dripping onto the tiles as I grabbed it.

Dr Mark…

“Conference starts in one hour. Do not be late.”

My breath seized momentarily.

I am going to see Drake again today.

And this time, I would not run.

*******************

The conference hall loomed before me with its glass doors reflecting my pale face, still hungover from last night. I squared my shoulders, my fingers clutching my presentation folder like a shield.

“Your first time at a medical conference?”

I turned to find a strikingly beautiful woman in a white coat smiling at me. Her dark curls were pinned back with huge golden clips, and her scent—bergamot and something familiar—was surprisingly calming.

“Doctor Salome” she said, extending a hand. “You are Lillian Stewart, right? I read your article on urban pack medicines. Brilliant work.”

I blinked. No one had ever complimented my research. “You….actually read it?”

Salome laughed and looped her arm through mine. “Come on, new friend Let’s get some caffeine in your system, before you present. You look like you had a rough night.”

For the first time in years, I breathed easier.

The conference passed in a blur of handshakes and hollow praises. Salome stayed by my side, whispering sarcastic commentary that made me snort into my water glass.

“My mate is here somewhere,” she said as the crowd thinned. “You will love him—annoyingly charming, just like—ah! There he is!”

She waved eagerly towards the lobby. My stomach dropped when I saw him turn—Lucas Carter—a member of the trio—Drake’s best friend, still smirking like the universe is a joke.

“Lily Stewart?” Lucas eyes widened. “No fucking way.”

Salome beamed. “You two know each other?”

Before I could disappear, Lucas yelled across the hall…

“Drake! Get over here—you won’t believe who Salome dug up!”

The crowd parted quickly like the Red Sea.

There he stood.

Drake.

His storm-grey eyes locked into mine, and for the second time in ten years, I saw something flicker in them—something that wasn’t mockery.

“Lillian,” he said, my name rough on his tongue.

Salome gasped. “Wait. This is the Lillian you—”

“Well…well…well.”

Sharon stood elegantly, leaning on the conference hall doors, her blood red lips curved in a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Here we meet again, Lily.”