Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Sebastian’s POV

I heard her footsteps the moment she entered the house.

Ever since that night. Since she’d asked me that question.

"Can you really never like me?"

I still hadn’t answered. And now she was pulling away, slipping further from my reach with each passing hour.

Ryder stirred restlessly in my mind. "You’re losing her."

"I know. "

"Then do something about it."

"Like what? Tell her I can’t give her what she deserves? That even though she’s my fated mate, my heart is still stuck in the past with someone who destroyed me?"

Ryder went silent. He had no answer either.

I pushed back from my desk. The financial reports I’d been staring at for the past three hours suddenly felt meaningless. The numbers blurred together. I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think about anything except the growing distance between us.

The bathroom door clicked shut down the hall.

I walked out of the study and stood outside the bathroom, my hand raised to knock. Through the door, I could hear the shower running.

"You’re back?" I called out.

A pause. Then her voice, muffled and low. "Yes."

"Why are you back so late? Did you eat?"

"Yes, I did."

Her tone was flat. Emotionless. The way she’d been speaking to me for two days now—polite, distant, like I was a stranger instead of her husband.

I went back to my study, burying myself in work that didn’t matter, avoiding the conversation I knew we needed to have.

Half an hour later, I finally gave up pretending to read the same contract for the fifth time. I shut my laptop and headed toward my room.

That’s when I saw her.

Emilia was just stepping out of the bathroom, her hair damp and hanging loose around her shoulders. She wore an oversized t-shirt and looked exhausted—the kind of bone-deep tired that came from more than just a long day.

But it was her eyes that stopped me cold.

Red-rimmed. Slightly puffy.

She’d been crying.

"Did you cry?"

I crossed the distance between us and held her shoulders. "What happened?"

She stared up at me, and for just a second, I saw something raw and vulnerable flash across her face.

"It’s nothing," she said quietly, gently moving my hands off her shoulders. "I’m tired. I don’t want to talk right now."

"Emilia—"

"Goodnight, Sebastian."

She slipped past me and disappeared into her room, closing the door with a soft click.

I stood there, my hands still tingling from where I’d touched her, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

"Go after her. Don’t let her shut you out."

But what could I say? What right did I have to demand answers when I couldn’t give her the one thing she wanted?

I turned toward my own room, intending to give her space, when I remembered I needed to shower.

I turned on the light and immediately spotted something on the floor.

Her clothes from today, crumpled in a heap near the hamper.

She usually put her dirty laundry directly in the basket. Emilia was careful about things like that.

I bent down to pick them up, intending to toss them in the hamper for her.

Then I saw the stains.

White paint. Splattered across her blouse and skirt. And was that... rotten eggs? The smell hit me a second later, making my nose wrinkle.

My grip tightened on the fabric.

I walked straight to her door and knocked.

The door opened a crack. Emilia peered out, her expression wary.

"What’s wrong?"

I held up her ruined clothes. "What happened to these?"

She went very still. For a moment, she didn’t answer, and I could see her debating whether to lie or tell me the truth.

Finally, she said quietly, "It’s your ex-wife’s masterpiece."

"Raelene did this?"

"What do you think?"

Before I could respond, she closed the door.

I stood there, staring at the door.

Raelene had gone after her. And Emilia hadn’t told me.

Because she didn’t trust me to protect her? Or because she’d given up on expecting anything from me?

"You did this," Ryder said coldly. "You pushed her away. This is what happens when you refuse to claim what’s yours."

I looked down at the clothes in my hands and slowly crushed them into a ball.

I couldn’t love her. Not the way she deserved.

But I could protect her. That much, at least, I could do.

I pulled out my phone and called Fynn.

"Alpha?" He answered on the second ring.

"Find out everything about what happened with Raelene Ferguson today," I said, my voice dead calm. "I want to know where she went, who she talked to, and what exactly she did to my wife."

"Your wife?" Fynn’s tone sharpened. "Is Emilia alright?"

"Just get me the information. Tonight."

"On it."

I hung up and stared at Emilia’s closed door.