Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 323

Ezra's POV

I stood frozen in my suite, staring at the closed door, my mind reeling from what had just transpired. The sight of Lillian in my dining room, having prepared dinner like some kind of domestic goddess, had left me feeling... unsettled. No, that wasn't strong enough. It had left me feeling like I was trapped in some twisted nightmare.

*What the fuck was that about?*

The way she'd looked at me, with those bright eyes and that eager smile, offering to help me pick out pajamas like we were still together, like the last five years hadn't happened. Like she hadn't lied to me about everything.

I made my way to the bathroom, stripping off my clothes and stepping under the shower. I turned the water as cold as I could stand, hoping the shock would clear my head.

My mind drifted to better memories. Isolde, two years ago, carefully selecting my suits for meetings.

A real smile tugged at my lips despite everything. Those had been good days. Simple days, before I'd fucked everything up.

The smile faded as quickly as it had come. Two years ago, I'd had everything I wanted. And I'd been too afraid of taking that final step.

*If I'd just marked her then,* I thought bitterly, *none of this would be happening.*

I'd had her. She'd loved me, trusted me completely. And I'd let my fear and uncertainty destroy it all. Now I was paying the price, caught between a manipulative ex who refused to stay dead and the woman I actually loved, who barely trusted me enough to have dinner with me.

I finished my shower and pulled on a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, feeling marginally more human. But as I headed toward my bedroom, a soft knock on my door made me freeze.

*Please let that be Una,* I thought. She sometimes checked in around this time, making sure I had everything I needed for the night.

But when I opened the door, my heart nearly stopped. Lillian stood in the hallway, wearing a revealing silk nightgown that left very little to the imagination, her expression a masterpiece of feigned innocence.

"Lillian," I managed, my voice coming out strangled. "What are you doing here?"

Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes filled with what looked like genuine tears. "I... I tried several times, but I can't fall asleep alone in that suite because everything feels so unfamiliar."

I stared at her, my mind struggling to process this latest manipulation. "You've stayed in suites like this before."

"But not that one," she said softly, her voice shaking. "And besides, we used to share a bedroom. You would adjust the thermostat for me every night, hold me until I fell asleep..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked up at me with those wide, vulnerable eyes. "If it's not too much trouble, could I sleep here with you tonight? Just to sleep. I promise I won't be a bother."

The request hit me like a slap to the face. The sheer audacity of it, combined with the way she was trying to use our past relationship to manipulate me, made my jaw clench.

*She's trying to guilt me into this,* I realized. She thought she could use my sense of obligation, my memories of what we used to have, to get what she wanted.

But as I looked at her, three very clear reasons why this could never happen crystallized in my mind.

First, I couldn't trust myself around her. Not because I had any feelings for her left, but because I was afraid of what I might do in a moment of anger or frustration. If she tried to seduce me, if she pushed too hard, I wasn't sure I could control my temper.

Second, I could see exactly how this would play out. If I gave in tonight, tomorrow she'd show up with a different excuse. Maybe she'd have a nightmare. Maybe she'd claim she was sick. It would never end, and I couldn't afford to set that precedent.

But the third reason was the one that made my blood run cold. This penthouse, this suite, belonged to me and Isolde. Every room held memories of our time together. The living room where we'd watched movies, the bedroom where we'd shared so many intimate moments.

I would not bring another woman – especially not my lying, manipulative ex – into the space that was sacred to me and Isolde. The very thought of it felt like a betrayal so profound it made me sick.

I shook my head firmly. "No."

Lillian's face crumpled with disappointment, but I was already moving, stepping out of my suite and closing the door firmly behind me.

"But I can help you with your problem," I said, walking past her down the hallway. "We'll go to your suite. I'll adjust the thermostat for you, and then you'll be able to sleep."

I could feel her eyes on my back as I headed toward the elevator that would take us to the guest floors. When I glanced back, her expression had shifted from hope to confusion to something that looked almost like fear.

"Ezra?" she called after me, but I didn't stop.

As we rode the elevator in silence, I forced myself to remember why I was doing this.

It went against every instinct I had, every protective impulse that screamed at me to keep her as far away as possible. But if this was what it took to uncover her real agenda, to protect Isolde and end this nightmare once and for all, then I'd play along.

Even if it killed me.