The staff told Charlotte that her visitor was waiting for her outside the filming location, so she had no choice but to walk out with Isolde.
"Maybe it’s a friend?" Isolde suggested.
Charlotte let out a soft laugh, though there was no real humor in it. "I don’t have any friends left," she said lightly. "Unfortunately."
As they walked outside, Charlotte scanned the area but saw no one who seed to be waiting for her. She frowned, wondering if they had already left because she had taken too long.
But if that were the case ... why co all the way here in the first place?
Just as she was about to turn back, a staff mber hurried toward her.
"Ms. Dawson! Soone from your family dropped this off for you earlier." The staff mber handed her a bouquet of white lilies, smiling warmly. "Aren’t they beautiful? Maybe they’re from your parents."
Charlotte didn’t reach for them.
Instead of warmth or joy, a heavy, suffocating weight settled in her chest. Her breath hitched, and she instinctively stepped back, hands trembling as they hovered over her mouth.
White lilies.
The symbol of apologies and sincerity.
She had seen those flowers for five years, filling her bedroom, every corner of her house.
A lump ford in Charlotte’s throat as her eyes remained locked on the bouquet. The delicate white petals, once a symbol of remorse, now felt like shackles chaining her to a past she had fought so hard to escape.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, aching to shove the flowers away, to throw them to the ground and crush them beneath her heels. But her body refused to move.
"Charlotte, what’s wrong?" Isolde asked.
The staff also began to wonder why Charlotte was acting as if she had just seen a ghost instead of a bouquet of beautiful flowers.
Charlotte didn’t answer. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as a cold chill ran down her spine.
She knew who sent them.
She didn’t need to check the card nestled between the petals to confirm it.
Even so, her gaze flickered to the small envelope tucked inside the bouquet, her heartbeat pounding louder as the nightmare hovered in her mind.
Isolde noticed her reaction and imdiately stepped forward, taking the flowers from the staff’s hands before Charlotte could touch them. Her eyes darkened as she carefully pulled out the card and unfolded it.
The mont she read the words, her jaw clenched.
[Give the money, or I’ll hurt soone you care about.]
A sickening dread settled in Charlotte’s stomach.
Julian.
Of course, it was him.
She should have known he would crawl out of whatever hole he had been hiding in. He was like a disease that refused to go away, always lingering in the shadows, waiting for the perfect mont to strike.
Below the sentence, there was an address of a park, one that looked completely unfamiliar to her.
Isolde glanced at it before explaining, "That park ... it’s near Miss Haven’s kindergarten."
Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat.
Her fingers curled tightly around the bouquet, the delicate petals of the lilies crumpling under her grip. A sharp chill ran down her spine as she reread Julian’s ssage, her heart pounding louder with every beat.
Julian wasn’t just asking for money.
He was threatening her.
If she didn’t comply, soone she cared about would get hurt.
And now, he had made it painfully clear exactly who his target was.
But if Julian thought she would just comply with his demands, he was dead wrong.
Charlotte wasn’t the sa helpless girl he used to control. She wasn’t alone anymore.
"Isolde, are there any werewolves from the Crimson Moon Pack nearby?" Her voice sounded calm, but her fingers curled tightly at her sides.
"Yes," Isolde said without hesitation.
Charlotte exhaled slowly, then tossed the white lilies into the nearest trash bin, watching the petals scatter like discarded mories. Her gaze darkened. "Tell them, soone just sent a threat to their Luna." She handed Isolde the card. "Track him down. He couldn’t have gotten far."
"Understood." Isolde’s eyes turned ice-cold, her usual cheerful deanor vanishing in an instant.
A threat against the Luna was unforgivable, especially when their Luna was carrying the future heir of the Alpha.
That was basically a death sentence.
Isolde pulled out a second phone from her pocket and spoke into it, her voice sharp and unwavering. "We’ve got a red code situation."
It didn’t take long for Damon to hear about Julian’s arrival at Charlotte’s filming location. The mont the news reached him, he dropped everything he was doing and drove straight to her.
By the ti he arrived at the filming location, Damon barely waited for the car to stop before throwing the door open. His eyes, glowing with barely restrained fury, imdiately searched for her.
And then he saw Charlotte.
She was flipping through her script with Lily on her lap, her expression looked calm, acting as if nothing had happened.
But Damon saw through it.
He noticed the slight tremble in her hands, the way her fingers tightened around the pages. He saw how she would zone out for a few seconds before snapping back to reality, forcing herself to engage in conversation.
Damon strode over, his tall fra casting a shadow over her. "Charlotte." His voice was low, firm, yet gentle.
She finally lifted her gaze, and for a fleeting mont, he saw it. The fear she was trying so hard to hide.
"Mr. Sullivan! You ca again!" Lily clapped her hands excitedly.
Damon didn’t take his eyes off Charlotte, but he still managed to flash Lily a brief, reassuring smile. "Of course. How could I stay away?"
Lily giggled, clearly delighted, but Damon’s attention quickly returned to Charlotte. He crouched beside her, his voice dropping so only she could hear. "You don’t have to pretend with ."
Charlotte blinked, her grip on the script tightening. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," she murmured, but the slight waver in her voice betrayed her.
"Lily, I need to talk to Charlotte for a mont," he said to the little girl. "Can you give us a little ti?"
Lily pouted, her small brows furrowing. "Only for a little while, okay?"
Damon gave her a small, reassuring smile. "I promise."
Satisfied with his answer, Lily slid off Charlotte’s lap and ran off to play with a staff mber nearby.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Damon held Charlotte’s hands, his sharp gaze scanning her face. "Tell the truth," he said quietly. "What did he do this ti?"
Charlotte sighed softly, lowering her eyes. "He left a ssage," she admitted. "A threat."
Damon’s expression darkened. "Where is it?"
"I gave it to Isolde. She’s handling it." She whispered, "He threatened to harm Haven if I didn’t give him money."
"Don’t worry about Haven," Damon said, his voice laced with coldness. "Her father is not soone to be ssed with."
Louis had always seed like the kind of man who never took life too seriously, he was charming, easygoing, and friendly with everyone.
On the surface, he was harmless, even approachable. But at the end of the day, he was still a Sullivan. The sa blood that ran through Damon’s veins ran through his, and that ant sothing.
He might not have been as strong as Damon, but Louis wasn’t the Beta of the Crimson Moon Pack for nothing. If he couldn’t protect his own family, he wouldn’t be standing where he was today.
There was a well-known rumor in supernatural circles: Never cross the Sullivan brothers, unless you have a death wish.
And Julian had just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Damon’s jaw tightened as he thought about it. The man dared to threaten Charlotte—his mate, the mother of his child. On top of it, he also threatened his niece. Did he really think he could get away with that?
His fingers itched to wrap around Julian’s throat, to show him exactly what happened to n who touched what was his. But he forced himself to stay calm, for Charlotte’s sake.
"Are you okay?" he finally asked, his voice quieter now, ant only for her.
Charlotte was about to say she was fine, but in front of Damon, she didn’t have the strength to lie. "No, I’m not."
"I know."
Damon stood up and inford the director that he needed to speak with Charlotte privately. Once that was taken care of, he returned to her side.
"Let’s calm you down first." His voice was softer now. "It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend to be strong."
As soon as they stepped into her private room, Charlotte imdiately threw herself into his embrace. She whispered, "He sent white lilies."
Damon caressed her hair gently. "Do you want to tell about that?"
Charlotte nodded. "He always brought white lilies after he hurt . Every ti, he swore he’d never do it again." Her voice wavered. "But in the end, those flowers kept piling up, filling our house ... and he never changed."
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