Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Sebastian’s POV

I stepped out of my office and caught Fynn shoving something under his arm.

"What are you looking at?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.

His head snapped up so fast I thought he’d give himself whiplash. "Sebastian! Nothing, just... just some documents."

Ryder stirred in my mind, instantly alert. "He’s lying."

"I know."

Fynn was the worst liar in the entire Silver Moon Pack. His left eyelid was already twitching like a broken light switch. It always did when he tried to hide something.

I tilted my head toward the space behind him. "What’s that behind you?"

He spun around to look. "There’s nothing..."

The second his back was turned, I moved. By the time he realized he’d been played, the photos were already in my hand.

My breath stopped.

Emilia. Laughing. With a man I’d never seen before.

The images blurred together. Her smile. His hand on her shoulder. The two of them at a cafe. At an amusement park. Close.

"Sebastian..." Fynn’s voice sounded far away. "Don’t jump to conclusions. They could just be friends."

Friends.

Right.

Just like Abigail was "just friends" with my cousin before she ran off with him on our wedding day.

"Find out who this man is," I said, my voice flat and cold. "And what his relationship is with my wife."

I threw the photos back at him and walked into my office. At the door, I stopped without turning around.

"Make sure it’s accurate. Report everything. Don’t hide a single detail from me."

"Yes, Alpha."

The door closed behind me.

Ryder growled low and dangerous. "Our mate is hiding something."

"I know."

"Then why aren’t we confronting her?"

"Because I want to know the truth first. All of it."

I’d given her so many chances. So many moments where she could have told me anything, everything. And every single time, she’d smiled and kept her secrets locked tight.

The afternoon dragged. I couldn’t focus on work. Couldn’t focus on anything except those damn photos burning a hole in my mind.

At four o’clock, Fynn knocked on my door. His face was pale, his jaw tight.

He didn’t want to tell me. I could see it written all over him.

"Just say it," I told him. "I’m not going to fall apart."

"The man in the photos is Leighton Lind," Fynn began carefully, like he was defusing a bomb. "His father is Richie Lind, a loan shark from Lakewood City. Ten years ago, Richie... he bought a wife for his son. One hundred thousand dollars. That woman was Emilia Taylor."

The world went very still.

"What?"

"The marriage never went through, but Richie’s been in contact with her recently. There have been... conflicts between them."

"Show me a photo of Richie."

Fynn opened a folder and pulled out a family portrait. He pointed to each person. "This is Richie. His wife. And his son, Leighton."

I stared at the photo. At the man who’d bought my mate like she was a piece of property.

Something snapped inside me.

I crumpled the photo in my fist, the paper tearing under the pressure.

"Sebastian, are you..."

"Get out."

"But..."

"I said get out!"

Fynn left without another word.

I stood there in the empty office, staring at the ruined photo in my hand. My chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped chains around my ribs and was pulling them tighter and tighter.

"She lied to us," Ryder snarled. "Our own mate lied."

"She had her reasons."

"What reasons could justify this? We gave her everything. We trusted her. We..."

"Enough."

But he was right. I’d given her my mark. My name. My pack. And she’d kept this from me.

How many times had I asked if she was hiding something? How many times had I looked into those blue eyes and waited for her to tell me the truth?

And every single time, she’d chosen silence.

The sky outside turned dark. I sat in my office chair, staring at nothing, until my phone finally rang.

"Aren’t you off work yet?" Emilia’s voice was soft, concerned.

"No. Come to my office."

A pause. "What’s wrong?"

"We’ll talk when you’re here."

I hung up before she could ask anything else.

From my window, I watched her arrive. The building was dark except for the streetlights outside, and she looked so small walking toward the entrance. So fragile.

I’d fallen for that once. The illusion of vulnerability. The idea that she needed me to protect her.

But Emilia Taylor didn’t need protection. She needed someone stupid enough to believe her lies.

I heard the elevator ding. Heard her footsteps in the hallway. She hesitated outside my door, and for a moment, I thought she might turn around and run.

She didn’t.

The door opened. She stepped inside.

"Why didn’t you turn on the lights?" she asked quietly, her eyes searching for me in the darkness.

I flipped the switch.

Light flooded the room, and I watched her flinch.

I forced my face into something calm. Something gentle. "Sometimes you see things more clearly in the dark."

"Why did you call me here?"

"Nothing serious. I just realized I haven’t been paying enough attention to you lately." I kept my voice light, casual. "By the way, has that gambling addict uncle of yours contacted you recently?"

Her whole body went rigid. "No. Why?"

I pulled out the photo of Leighton and held it up. "Do you know this person?"

Emilia stared at the photo. Her face went pale, her lips parting slightly. I could see the war happening behind her eyes. Truth or lies.

She’d already made her choice before she even opened her mouth.

"I don’t know him."

Something in me went cold and quiet.

I’d given her one last chance. One final moment to come clean, to trust me, to prove that our bond meant something.

And she’d thrown it away.

I reached into my desk and pulled out the entire stack of photos. Every single image of her with Leighton. At the cafe. At the amusement park. Holding hands. Smiling.

I threw them at her feet.

They scattered across the floor like broken promises.

"Emilia," I said, my voice so cold it didn’t even sound like mine anymore. "You just destroyed the last chance I gave you."