Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Emilia’s POV

Mila had been off since she got back this afternoon. She hadn’t come down for dinner. Ever since she found out about Claudine last night, she’d been so troubled that worry gnawed at me. I couldn’t just sit there and pretend everything was fine.

I went upstairs and knocked softly on her bedroom door.

"Come in," came Mila’s muffled voice.

I pushed the door open and found her lying in bed, still fully dressed, staring at the ceiling. "Mom, are you okay? It’s pretty early for you to be turning in."

I sat on the edge of her bed, studying her face. She looked worn out.

Mila gave a small shake of her head. "I’m alright, dear. Just my old condition acting up. I’ll be fine after some rest."

"Can I get you something to eat? You didn’t touch your dinner."

"I’m not really hungry. Don’t worry about me. You should eat more yourself. You’ve been looking a little pale lately."

"I’m fine, really." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Where’s Dad? Is he back yet?"

"He went out this afternoon and hasn’t come back. Could you ask him to come up when he gets in?"

"Of course."

I nodded, pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, and slipped out quietly, closing the door behind me.

When I got back downstairs, Tiffany pounced on me. "Emilia, what’s wrong with Mom?"

"She’s not feeling well. Said she needs to rest."

"I should go check on her."

"No, wait." I caught Tiffany’s arm as she started for the stairs. "She just fell asleep. Let’s not disturb her."

Tiffany bit her lip, the same worry on her face that I felt. "But she hasn’t eaten anything. Won’t she be starving later?"

An idea struck me. "You’re right. Maybe I should make her something she can have when she wakes up. What does she usually like?"

"Oh! Mom loves that creamy chicken soup you made last time. And those herb-roasted vegetables? She wouldn’t stop raving about them."

I thought for a moment. Comfort food felt like the right call. "Alright, I’ll put something together."

"Emilia, you’re seriously the best." Tiffany clasped her hands together. "I don’t know how you do it. You’re good at literally everything. If I ever have to impress Fynn’s family, I’m so screwed."

I went into the kitchen and grabbed an apron off the hook. "It’s not about impressing anyone, Tiff. Cooking is just... I don’t know, it’s a way to show you care. And honestly, it’s pretty satisfying once you get the hang of it."

"Easy for you to say." Tiffany followed me and leaned against the counter as I started pulling out ingredients. "You make it look effortless. Meanwhile I can barely boil water without setting off the smoke alarm. How am I supposed to win Fynn over if I can’t even feed him?"

I laughed and pulled out a cutting board. "First of all, Fynn is already head over heels for you, so that ship has sailed. Second, cooking isn’t some magic spell to trap a man. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone."

"But still..."

"If you really want to learn, I can teach you. But fair warning, it takes patience. And a lot of trial and error."

Tiffany’s eyes lit up. "Really? You’d teach me?"

"Sure. Just don’t blame me when you burn your first batch of cookies."

"Deal! For Fynn, I’d learn to cook a five-course meal blindfolded."

I grinned and shook my head. "That’s the spirit. Now stop distracting me or this soup is never getting done."

I was just seasoning the broth when I heard the front door open. Titus’s heavy footsteps echoed through the foyer.

I quickly wiped my hands on a towel and hurried to meet him. "Dad, you’re back."

He looked up, surprised. "Emilia. What’s wrong?"

"It’s Mom. She’s not feeling well. Said her old condition was flaring up. She skipped dinner and went to lie down."

His face changed at once, concern carving deep lines across his forehead. "Her condition again?"

"I think so. I’m making her something light, but she wanted to see you when you got back."

"I’ll go to her now."

He didn’t waste another second and headed straight for the stairs.

About ten minutes later, the soup was ready. I ladled it into a bowl, arranged some sliced fruit on a small plate, and poured a cup of chamomile tea, Mila’s favorite. I set everything neatly on a tray.

Tiffany leaned over and breathed in deep. "Oh my God, Emilia, that smells amazing. Can I have some?"

I shot her a playful glare. "This is for your mother. But there’s more on the stove if you want."

"You’re a saint. I love you."

"Yeah, yeah. Go eat before you drool on the tray."

She bounced off toward the kitchen, and I carefully lifted the tray and headed back upstairs.

As I reached Mila’s bedroom, I raised my hand to knock. Then I froze. There were voices inside. Raised voices.

"Why did you meet up with her? Do you think she came back because of me?"

That was Titus. His tone was sharp, defensive.

"If it wasn’t because of you, then who? Me?" Mila’s voice cracked. "Don’t stand there and pretend you didn’t know Claudine Tucker was back."

"So what if I knew? You know how I feel about you better than anyone. I’ve never loved anyone but you!"

"Stop lying to me, Titus. Just because I’ve never brought it up doesn’t mean I don’t know what you did last time!"

"What did I do?"

"Do you really want me to spell it out?" Mila’s voice rose, shaking with anger. "Fine. How are you going to explain Pearl Haymitch to me?"

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Pearl Haymitch?

I stood frozen outside the door, the tray growing heavy in my hands. I knew I should walk away and give them privacy, but my feet wouldn’t move.

Then someone tapped my shoulder.