Chapter 911

The night air in the garden gazebo was thick with the ghost of Cian Wells. Lillian, playing the part of the grieving widow, successfully manipulated Oscar’s one weakness: his brother. "I miss him so much," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the neon lights of the city. "Seeing Una look more like him every day makes it harder."

Oscar, silent as always when Cian was mentioned, agreed to drink with her. Lillian watched him closely, pouring glass after glass, waiting for the alcohol to dull the sharp edges of his composure. She spoke of Cian’s purity and kindness, watching Oscar sink deeper into his seat, seemingly overcome by the weight of the wine and the memories.

When Oscar appeared to drift off, Lillian seized her moment. "Oscar, you're drunk. Let me help you."

With her heart racing, she guided him—not to his own room, but to hers. She laid him on her bed, her hands trembling as she began to unfasten his shirt. For the first time, the distance he usually maintained was gone. Up close, he possessed a mature charm that eclipsed Cian's youthful innocence—a charm she had coveted from the very first moment she saw him, even while she was still with his brother.

Driven by a desire for both the man and a victory over her rival, Lillian took a photo of the half-undressed Oscar and sent it to Hannah.

The Message in Kensbury

Hannah felt the vibration of her phone in the quiet of the night. Seeing the image of her husband in another woman's bed, she felt a flicker of emotion, but no surprise. She viewed it as an inevitability—two people living together, bonded by a child, would eventually find their way to each other. She was about to turn off her phone when Lillian, cautious to a fault, withdrew the message. Hannah merely laughed and put the phone away, her heart seemingly hardened against the betrayal.

The Rejection

Back in the Capital, Lillian moved to join Oscar on the bed. But the second she touched him, Oscar’s eyes snapped open. He was perfectly, dangerously sober.

"Oscar," she gasped, grabbing his arm as he stood up. He shrugged her off with a look of pure disdain. Desperate, she threw her arms around him from behind, pressing her body against his back. "I want Una to have a complete family! I want us to be a real family, for her sake! I won't tell Hannah!"

The mention of Hannah’s name was the final straw. Oscar wrenched himself free, sending Lillian sprawling to the floor.

"I'll give Una my best," Oscar said, his voice like ice. "There is no need for you to make any 'sacrifices.'"

"It's not a sacrifice for me!" Lillian cried out from the ground.

"I don't want to compromise myself, either," Oscar retorted bluntly.

The words were a physical blow. In Oscar’s world, being with her was a "compromise"—an act beneath him. He warned her never to let such a thing happen again and walked out, leaving her humiliated in the center of her room.

The Declaration of War

Hatred replaced the last of Lillian’s affection. If she couldn't have him as a husband, she would destroy him as an enemy. She picked up her phone and called her father.

"Do what you need to do to deal with Oscar," she told Rowan, her voice trembling with fury. "I'll cooperate fully. The sooner the better."

On the other end of the line, Rowan smiled. The last obstacle—his daughter’s heart—had finally been removed. The hunt for Oscar Wells had begun.