Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Emilia’s POV

I stood outside my uncle’s house, rain dripping from my hair. The sky had turned ugly gray, like it knew exactly what kind of mess I was walking into.

I lifted my hand. Knocked.

The door swung open.

Aunt Mindy stood there, and I barely recognized her. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow. Dark circles carved deep under them like she hadn’t slept in weeks.

*Please let her help us. Please let her help us.*

Her thoughts hit me like a truck before she even opened her mouth.

"You okay?" I asked softly, hoping—praying—that my uncle had been lying to me.

Before she could answer, tears poured down her cheeks. She dropped to her knees right there in the doorway.

"Emilia, please save your uncle. This is the last time I’m begging you. Really, the last time..."

My heart hit rock bottom.

I looked past her. Uncle Chuck was squatting in the corner, head in his hands.

"Is it true?" My voice came out flat. "You really have liver cancer, Aunt?"

Chuck stood up slowly, grabbed a pile of hospital reports, and shoved them into my hands. I flipped through them. Page after page. Diagnosis. Treatment plans. Bills that made my stomach turn.

Then I snapped.

"Why?" I heard my own voice rising. "Why didn’t you come to me like you always do? You needed money, you tell me! Why the hell did you choose to traffic drugs?"

Mindy sobbed, "We’ve caused you too much trouble before. We were embarrassed. Your uncle wanted to find you, but I stopped him. I’m terminal anyway. Who knows how long I have left..."

"You didn’t let him find me, but you let him sell drugs? How is that not causing me trouble now? If you’d come to me in the first place, none of this would’ve happened!"

I was furious. My life was already a dumpster fire, and my relatives kept pouring gasoline on it.

Chuck’s voice cracked. "Emilia, your aunt had no idea about the deal with Richie. I just couldn’t watch her die. Now I’ve come around. If you don’t help me, it’s fine. If your aunt dies, there’s no point in me living alone..."

"Shut up!"

Mindy turned and screamed at him, then grabbed my hands. Her fingers were ice cold. "Don’t listen to him. You have to save him, Emilia. He’s your mother’s only brother. Your only real relative besides your father. If he goes to prison, your mother won’t rest in peace."

*"Please. Please. I can’t lose him. I can’t."*

Their thoughts stabbed me. Raw. Desperate. They really were terrified.

I looked at them. Uncle Chuck sobbing. Aunt Mindy on her knees. Two broken people holding each other like the world was ending.

And I felt it—that stupid, stubborn part of me that still cared.

I envied them.

For all their faults, for all their greed and smallness, they had real love. The kind my mother never got. The kind I’d never had.

"Alright, stop crying."

I pulled out the bank card Mila had given me. Stuffed it into Mindy’s hand. "Take it. Get your treatment."

"What about your uncle?" she asked, eyes wet.

I hesitated. Then forced the words out.

"I won’t let him suffer."

The walk back was long. The moon was dim, the stars faint. I moved slow, like my feet were made of concrete.

My life was a goddamn mess. And I had no idea how to clean it up.

I passed a 24-hour store. Bought a few cans of beer. Screw it. I was a woman who was tired of being everyone’s savior.

I got home at eleven. Tiptoed up the stairs. Sebastian’s room was pitch black. I crept forward in the dark, praying he was asleep.

Halfway through, a voice cut through the silence.

"Stop."

The lights clicked on. Sebastian was leaning against the headboard, looking at me like I was a burglar.

"What time is it?"

I didn’t answer. His eyes dropped to the plastic bag in my hand.

"What’s that?"

"Beer."

He jumped out of bed, and I flinched. Thought he was going to scold me. Instead, he snatched the bag.

"How’d you know I wanted a drink?"

I stared at him. "I didn’t buy it for you."

"Doesn’t matter. Drink together."

He sat down on the sofa, patted the seat next to him. Popped open a can like it was nothing. Chugged it.

I shook my head. Sat down.

"Why are you drinking?" I asked gloomily.

"Why are you drinking?" he shot back.

"I’m in a bad mood."

"I’m the opposite."

I blinked. "Don’t tell me you’re happy because I’m unhappy."

"That’s right. I’m happy when you suffer."

I glared at him. "I knew you didn’t mean what you said. ’I’ll treat you well’ my ass. You’re against me again."

"I’m not against you. I just know why you’re in a bad mood."

"You do?"

"Isn’t it because of him? The guy you were making out with downstairs at Lily’s house?"

I almost choked. "What?"

"Women drink when they’re heartbroken. Did he dump you?"

I laughed bitterly. "If that helps you sleep at night."

"Then what? You dumped him?"

"Stop guessing. It’s not about him."

He shrugged. "Like I care. Not interested in your love life."

I believed him. He wasn’t interested in anything about me.

"But before this marriage ends, don’t go too far with other men. If you have dinner with them, make sure I don’t see it. Because if I do, I won’t be rational."

"And you?" I raised an eyebrow. "Can you do the same?"

"Have you ever seen me with another woman?"

Except for the Linda incident. But I knew that was Linda’s fault.

I asked, out of nowhere, "Was Abigail good at playing?"