Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Emilia’s POV

The breaking-news alert lit up my phone while I was still in the bedroom, and I froze.

[Alpha Henry Taylor of the Frostridge Pack arrested for commercial fraud and murder...]

My hands shook as I read the headline, then the whole article. Murder. My mother’s murder. Fifteen years buried, and now clawing its way back into the light.

So that was where Sebastian had rushed off to.

He’d done it. He’d actually done it.

"Finally," Eve whispered in my mind, her voice tight. "Justice."

Tears blurred my eyes before I could stop them. I pressed a hand over my mouth to smother the sob. All these years I’d carried her death like a stone in my chest. The guilt. The rage. The helplessness. And now—

Now someone was finally going to answer for it.

I scrubbed my face and pulled myself together. Sebastian had given me this. The one thing I’d wanted most and never dared ask for.

The least I could do was thank him properly.

By the time I got downstairs, Mila and Tiffany were in the living room, both glued to their phones.

"Emmy!" Tiffany looked up, eyes wide. "Did you see the news? Your father’s been arrested!"

"I saw." My voice came out steadier than I felt.

Mila’s face softened. "Are you all right, dear?"

I nodded slowly. "I think... I think I finally am."

She didn’t push. She just reached over and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.

"Where’s Sebastian?"

"Still out," Tiffany said, scrolling. "But Fynn said he’s on his way back."

Good. I had plans for him.

I went straight to the kitchen and tied on an apron. Cooking was the one thing I was actually good at, and I wanted to thank him with my own hands. Something real.

"What are you doing?" Tiffany appeared in the doorway, mildly horrified. "You just got out of the hospital."

"I’m fine. The longer I lie in bed, the faster I lose my mind." I started pulling things from the fridge. "Besides, I owe someone a proper thank-you."

Tiffany grinned. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

Prepping everything took me a while, but by the time the front door opened, I had something like a real meal going on the stove.

One second I was stirring sauce. The next, his arms were around my waist, his chin on my shoulder.

"Why aren’t you resting?" His voice was low and warm against my ear. "Are you sure you’re healed enough for this?"

I leaned back into him and let myself relax for the first time all day. "It’s nothing serious. I’m almost back to normal."

"Then why cook it all yourself?"

I turned in his arms, meeting those green eyes that always saw too much. "To thank the man who got justice for me."

Sebastian’s face softened, something hungry flickering through his eyes. He lifted a hand and brushed his thumb over my cheek. "I don’t want that kind of thank-you. I want a more practical one."

I raised a brow, fighting a smile. "How practical are we talking?"

His gaze dropped to my mouth. "How about a little show, right here in the kitchen?"

"You’re impossible."

He pulled me closer, and I let myself sink into him, breathing in the mint and cedar.

"Sebastian," I said quietly. "Thank you."

"Too early for that," he murmured into my hair. "The real show hasn’t started yet."

"Hey, you two!" Tiffany’s voice carried in from the dining room. "Quit being so disgustingly lovey-dovey! We’re starving!"

I laughed and pulled back. Sebastian groaned but let me go, his hand lingering at my waist.

Dinner was chaos in the best way. Titus grilled Sebastian about the Frostridge situation while Mila kept loading food onto my plate. Tiffany narrated the media circus already brewing online.

But all I could really focus on was Sebastian beside me, his hand brushing mine under the table.

After dinner, he all but dragged me upstairs, on the excuse that I needed rest.

The second the bedroom door shut, he pulled me back into his arms.

"Emilia," he said, rougher now. "I have to leave for a business trip tomorrow."

I blinked. "Then go."

"But I’ll miss you."

I couldn’t stop the small smile. "You want me to come with you?"

"No, I mean..." He paused, almost uncertain. "There’s been so much going on. Fynn’s covered a lot, but a few partnerships need me in the room. I don’t want to leave you."

"I understand. You run a huge company, Sebastian. You can’t just vanish forever."

He looked almost offended by how reasonable I was being. "I was thinking... you’re quitting Hanson Group anyway. Why not come work at Simons Imperial?"

I raised a brow. "I don’t know. My skills are pretty average, and I’m no good at talking to people."

His eyes flashed. "You worked plenty hard for Scott. But the second it’s for me, you’re suddenly average?"

I burst out laughing. "Are you still jealous?"

"Are you taking the job or not?"

I tilted my head, pretending to weigh it. "Is this a proper job interview?"

His mouth curved, wicked. "It can be an improper one, if you’d rather. I’ve been wanting to do something since the kitchen."

Heat rushed up my face. "Weren’t we talking about work?"

Instead of answering, he took my hand and pressed it flat to his chest. I could feel the hard muscle under his shirt, the steady hammer of his heart.

"I want you," he said, voice dropping. "It’s been so long. I’ve been holding back this whole time."