Rewrite Her Thrilling Life (Lillian and Sebastian) novel Chapter 365

**TITLE: The Billionaire’s Last Obsession series 365**
**CONTENT: Chapter 365 Schemes 4**

Mr. Morten stood at the head of the room, his finger quivering with rage as he pointed it accusatorily at Lillian. His face was contorted, a storm of fury brewing within him. “You—stop them right now!” His voice was thick with indignation, each syllable laced with a simmering anger that threatened to boil over.

In stark contrast to his explosive demeanor, Lillian advanced toward the lavish banquet table with an air of unshakeable confidence. The sharp click of her heels against the polished marble floor resonated through the charged atmosphere, each step echoing like a drumbeat of defiance. She reached for a glass of deep crimson wine and, with a graceful flourish, downed it in one swift motion. The warmth of the alcohol coursed through her veins, sharpening her senses as she met Mr. Morten’s furious glare head-on. “I adhere to a very simple principle: if no one provokes me, I will not provoke them. But if someone dares to cross me—then I will retaliate a hundredfold. You wanted results? So do I.” Her voice was calm and composed, yet it cut through the tension like a finely honed blade.

Her piercing gaze swept across the room, taking in the myriad of faces staring back at her, each one a blend of anticipation and dread, a living tapestry of emotions. “The only question that remains,” she continued, her tone cool and unwavering, “is who will emerge victorious.”

Nearby, Renee stood with her arms crossed, a disdainful sneer twisting her lips. “You’ll lose. That much is certain.” Her voice dripped with condescension, as if she were addressing a mere child rather than a formidable adversary.

Lillian, undeterred, picked up another glass, a playful glint sparking in her eyes as if she were relishing the very essence of the gathering. “Is that so? Perhaps you underestimate me, Ms. Triny. I’ve always had a knack for flipping the script. Just when it seems I’m cornered, I turn the tables. Care to test that theory?” The challenge hung in the air, electric and charged, a palpable tension that crackled between them.

Renee’s arrogance was almost tangible. “I fear your luck is about to run out tonight.” Her words dripped with certainty, a taunt designed to unsettle.

“Then let’s wait and see,” Lillian replied, raising her glass toward Renee, a dazzling smile illuminating her features, as if she held all the cards in this high-stakes game.

Whispers rippled through the crowd, and the tension tightened like a noose with every passing second. Off to the side, Ariana stood frozen, her hands trembling, her complexion pale as parchment. She felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her, the air thick with anticipation and uncertainty.

Suddenly, an urgent voice rang out from the upstairs, frantic and breathless. “Ms. Harrington! We found him!”

Every head in the hall snapped toward the staircase, eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and dread. Two men clad in black descended, struggling to half-carry Sebastian between them. His face was ashen, his jacket missing, and two deep gashes marred his arm, blood seeping steadily through the fabric, staining it a dark crimson.

Gasps erupted from the crowd. Sebastian—once a figure of untouchable power—was now reduced to this pitiful state. The sight sent shockwaves through even his staunchest adversaries, leaving them momentarily speechless.

Evan’s expression darkened, fury igniting in his eyes as he turned to Mr. Morten, his voice low and threatening. “Explain this. Now.”

But Mr. Morten’s throat worked soundlessly, his mind racing with suspicions but lacking the words to defend himself.

Lillian rushed to Sebastian’s side, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. “What happened?” she demanded, her tone urgent and filled with concern.

Foster, his face grim and resolute, shot a venomous glare toward the Lindt family. “We found him locked inside a room on the third floor. The door was barred from the outside. When we broke in, he was barely conscious. The wounds—” His voice tightened with emotion, “—he inflicted them on himself to stay awake.”

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