Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Emilia’s POV

Sebastian’s green eyes locked onto mine, sharp and waiting for my answer.

I took a breath and met his gaze head-on. "Is it really such a big deal that I know Damien?"

"Maybe not a big deal," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "But I’m very curious how the two of you came to know each other."

"It was in Paris. That night by the Seine, when someone stole my bag, remember? He’s the one who chased down the thief for me."

Surprise flickered across his face. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

"I wanted to." I folded my arms. "But you were too angry to listen at the time. And back then I didn’t even know who he was. Not until I saw that photo in your office drawer, the one with you, him, and Abigail. That’s when it clicked, who he really was."

"Have you two met since then?"

"Yes."

I wasn’t going to lie. I’d promised him honesty in that letter I wrote, the one where I swore I’d never hide anything from him again. Even when the truth was inconvenient.

Sebastian went quiet for a moment, his jaw tight. Then he said, low and firm, "Don’t contact him anymore."

"Why not?"

"Do you really not know the reason?" He raised an eyebrow.

"So you want me to drop a friend just because he ran off with your fiancée?"

"Yes."

"I’m sorry, but I can’t do that." I shook my head. "He’s your enemy, Sebastian. Not mine. He’s my friend."

"Friend?" His voice turned cold. "You’re calling the man who betrayed your husband a friend?"

"Damien isn’t a bad person."

"If I say you don’t contact him, then you don’t contact him."

That did it. Anger boiled up in my chest, hot and insistent.

"Why do I have to obey everything you say?" I shot back. "You told me not to see Scott, so I stayed away. Now you’re telling me I can’t be friends with Damien either. What’s next? Are you going to vet every single person I talk to? You think you’re some kind of king and I’m just supposed to fall in line? Don’t you dare pull that Alpha-male nonsense on me, Sebastian, because I have never made these kinds of unreasonable demands on you."

"Have I done something to upset you?"

"Of course you have." I laughed, bitter. "You knew it would hurt me to meet with Abigail, and you did it anyway, didn’t you? So here’s the deal. I’ll stop seeing Scott and Damien the day you stop seeing Abigail. Can you do that?"

Sebastian froze. His silence was answer enough.

I knew it. He couldn’t promise me that.

The reality of it landed like a fist to the gut. Without another word, I turned and walked out into the hotel courtyard. The cold night air bit at my skin as I sank onto a bench and hugged my knees to my chest.

I stared at the ground, trying to make sense of our future, trying to find a path forward that didn’t feel like walking across broken glass. But no matter how hard I looked for it, it wasn’t there.

The streetlamp above threw long shadows over the courtyard. Footsteps approached, the soft click of expensive leather against stone.

I didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

A heavy coat settled over my shoulders. Sebastian’s voice broke the silence, deep and quiet. "It’s cold. Let’s go back inside."

I stood and shoved the coat back into his hands. Then I turned and walked to the room without looking at him.

That night we lay back to back, neither of us saying a word. I felt him shift restlessly beside me, turning over again and again like he wanted to say something. He never did.

Sometimes people were like fish in a tank. They had so much to say, and every time they opened their mouths, all that came out were bubbles. In the end the words just stayed down there, unspoken and heavy.

We flew back to Silverlake City the next day, landing just after noon. The moment I stepped inside, I found Mila in the living room, her face drawn and pale.

"Mila, where’s Tiffany?"

She pointed upstairs, her voice worn thin. "She’s locked in her room all day. She won’t come out."

She looked like she hadn’t slept at all. My chest tightened. "Don’t worry. I’ll go talk to her."

I climbed the stairs and stopped outside Tiffany’s door, knocking gently. "Tiffany, it’s me. Emilia. I’m back. Can you open up?"

Silence.

I knocked again, harder this time. "Come on. Don’t tell me you’re planning to lock yourself in there forever. That’s not the Tiffany I know."

The door creaked open. She stood there barefoot, her eyes red and swollen, and the second she saw me she threw herself into my arms.

"Emilia." Her voice broke, and then she was sobbing, her whole body shaking with the force of it.