Page 10

Chapter Eight

Lilianna

T he morning arrived with pale sunlight filtering through my curtains.

I'd barely slept, caught between anticipation and anxiety, my mind racing with possibilities of what awaited me.

I rose early, showered, and dressed in the outfit my mother had selected for the occasion—a modest pale blue dress with a fitted bodice and flared skirt that hit just below my knees.

Conservative but youthful. Demure but not matronly.

Every detail calculated to present the perfect image.

I fastened my grandmother's pearl necklace around my throat, the cool weight of it settling against my collarbone like a reminder. Then I checked my hidden phone one last time, drawing comfort from its presence before tucking it into a secret pocket I'd sewn into my handbag.

At precisely at Nine fifty-three, I descended the grand staircase with my small carry-on.

The household staff had already moved my larger suitcases to the foyer, lined up with military precision beside the front door.

My parents waited in the formal receiving hall, both dressed as if they were attending a state dinner rather than simply seeing their daughter off.

My mother wore navy blue silk with her best jewelry, every hair perfectly in place.

My father stood in his finest suit, a gold watch glinting as he checked the time.

They looked like the successful, distinguished family they'd always presented to the world—and I was the final piece of their carefully curated image.

"Perfect timing," my mother said, her critical gaze sweeping over me from head to toe. She stepped forward to adjust my necklace slightly, her fingers cool against my skin. "Remember everything we've discussed."

"Yes, Mother," I replied automatically.

My father approached, carrying the leather portfolio containing my documentation. "This goes directly to Julian Vale," he instructed, his tone brooking no argument.

I took the heavy portfolio, the weight of it a physical reminder of how thoroughly my life had been documented and controlled. "Of course, Father."

"Your driver will be arriving momentarily," my mother said, glancing at her watch. "I've packed a few additional items in your second suitcase—the new lingerie sets from La Petal, and those silk pajamas that complement your coloring."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Every moment that passed brought me closer to freedom, but these final minutes stretched like hours.

"Lilianna," my father said, his voice taking on that authoritative tone he used for important pronouncements. "I expect you to represent this family with absolute decorum. The Vale pack is giving you an extraordinary opportunity. Don't squander it with any... improprieties."

"I understand my responsibilities," I replied, the words practiced and hollow.

The distant crunch of tires on gravel announced the arrival of a car. My father straightened, checking his reflection in the entryway mirror, while my mother's fingers dug into my arm one last time.

"Remember who you represent," she whispered, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Twenty-three years of preparation. Don't waste it."

The front door opened, revealing not the black sedan I'd expected, but a sleek silver SUV with tinted windows. And standing beside it—my heart stuttered—was Miles.

His presence was unexpected. I'd assumed a driver would collect me, not one of the Alphas themselves. He looked different in casual clothes—dark jeans and a forest green sweater that made his eyes appear even brighter. When he saw me, a genuine smile broke across his face.

"Good morning," Miles said, his voice carrying across the space between us with warmth that felt like sunshine after a week in cold shadows. "I hope you don't mind that I came personally. We thought the transition might be easier with a familiar face."

My father stepped forward, extending his hand with practiced political charm. "Mr. Lexton, what an unexpected pleasure. We weren't anticipating—"

"Please, call me Miles," he interrupted smoothly, accepting my father's handshake but keeping his attention primarily on me. "I wanted to ensure Lilianna's comfort during the drive."

My mother appeared at my father's shoulder, her social smile perfectly calibrated. "How thoughtful. Though I hope this doesn't indicate any irregularities in protocol—"

"Not at all," Miles assured her, though something in his tone suggested he found the concern amusing. "Julian simply believes in personal touches." His eyes smiled as he spoke of the head Alpha of their pack.

The subtle emphasis on Julian's name seemed to remind my parents exactly who they were dealing with. My father's posture straightened even further, if that were possible, while my mother's smile became more genuine—or at least more determined.

"Of course," my father said quickly. "We appreciate the personal attention. It speaks well of the Vale pack's... consideration."

Miles nodded politely, then turned his full attention to me. "Are you ready, Lilianna?"

The question was simple, but I heard layers beneath it. Not just ready to leave, but ready for whatever came next. Ready to step into uncertainty. Ready to choose.

"Yes," I said, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "I'm ready."

Miles gestured toward the SUV, "We'll have you settled in before lunch. Your suite is already prepared." He turned to my parents with polite formality. "We'll take good care of her."

My father clasped his hands behind his back. "We expect nothing less." His eyes narrowed slightly. "And we'll look forward to regular updates on her... progress."

"Of course," Miles replied smoothly, though something flickered in his expression—a barely perceptible tightening around his eyes. "Julian will be in touch."

My mother stepped forward for one final inspection, tucking an imaginary strand of hair behind my ear. "Remember everything," she whispered, the words carrying both instruction and warning.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The moment stretched between us—twenty-three years of careful molding culminating in this handoff, this transfer of ownership. Or so they thought.

"These your bags?" Miles asked, gesturing toward my suitcases and I gave him a small nod.

"I'll take care of them," Miles efficiently began loading my luggage into the trunk while Miles held the passenger door open for me.

"Thank you for everything," I said to my parents, the practiced words coming easily. I didn't specify what I was thanking them for—let them assume it was for their years of careful preparation rather than this inadvertent path to freedom.

My mother's eyes glistened with what might have been tears if I believed she was capable of them. More likely it was pride in a transaction well executed. "Make us proud," she whispered, squeezing my hand one final time.

I slipped into the SUV's leather seat, the door closing behind me with a solid thunk that felt like finality.

Through the tinted window, I watched my parents standing on the steps of the estate, posed and perfect as always.

My father raised his hand in a dignified wave while my mother maintained her practiced smile.

They looked satisfied, triumphant even. They had no idea they were watching their carefully constructed world slip away.

Miles settled into the seat beside me, his presence immediately calming. As we pulled away from the circular drive, he glanced over with those bright green eyes.

"How are you holding up?" he asked quietly, his voice pitched low and soothing.

I watched the estate grow smaller in the side mirror until the iron gates closed behind us, cutting off my view entirely. "I feel like I'm in someone else's life," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"In a way, you are," Miles said, his tone gentle but honest. "The life you're stepping into is entirely yours to create."

The weight of that statement settled over me as we turned onto the main road, trees flashing past in a green blur. I realized I was clutching the leather portfolio on my lap with white-knuckled fingers and forced myself to relax my grip.

"You don't have to give that to Julian, you know," Miles said, nodding toward the portfolio. "Whatever's in there—medical records, family history—it doesn't matter to us."

I stared at him, caught off guard by the casual dismissal of what my father had presented as critically important documentation. "But... don't you need to review it? To make sure I'm... suitable?"

Miles's expression softened. "We already know you're suitable, Lilianna. The scenting told us everything that matters."

"But my heat suppression, my medical history—"

"Is your business," he interrupted gently. "If there's anything you want to share with us, you can do so when you're ready. On your own terms."

I turned the portfolio over in my hands, feeling its weight differently now. Not the burden of proof my father had made it seem, but simply paper and leather—meaningless unless I chose to give it meaning.

"What about my parents' expectations?" I asked, watching the familiar landscape give way to unfamiliar territory as we drove deeper into the city. "They'll want reports. Updates on my... progress."

Miles's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Your parents' expectations are no longer your concern. Now that you're under our protection, they have no authority over you."

The concept still felt foreign, impossible to fully grasp. "And if they try to interfere?"

"They won't," Miles said with quiet certainty. "Julian can be very persuasive when necessary." He paused for a second before glancing at me once again.

“Besides, we have already ‘paid’ them for you if you want to get technical.” Miles told me and I couldn’t withhold the flitch at his words.

My parents basically sold me like cattle to these Alphas…I know I agreed to this courtship, but it didn’t stop the sting of knowing that my parents would do something like this.