Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Sebastian’s POV

My eyes lingered on the drawer Emilia had just slammed shut. The panic that flashed across her face gnawed at something dark inside my chest.

I tried to focus on the contract Henry needed to sign, but Linda’s words kept creeping back. "She doesn’t love you, Sebastian. She’s just using you for revenge against her father. Did you know she already had a marriage arrangement before she came to your selection?"

I’d dismissed it then. Linda was spiteful, jealous. But now...

"Sebastian!" Tiffany’s voice rang through the villa. "Come get your mate! Mom wants to talk to her."

Emilia’s footsteps faded down the hallway.

Now’s your chance, Ryder said quietly. If you want to know the truth.

"This is wrong," I muttered. Opening someone’s diary? That wasn’t just crossing a line. It was destroying it.

More wrong than her potentially lying to you about everything?

My feet moved before I could stop them. I stood in front of the desk, my hand hovering over the drawer.

Don’t do this. Don’t be that man. Trust your mate.

But the memory of Abigail’s betrayal rose up. The humiliation. The devastation. The way my world had broken.

I yanked the drawer open.

The dark green diary sat there innocently. My hands trembled as I picked it up. I flipped to a date I recognized: March 13th. The day I announced the Luna selection.

[March 13th. Sunny.

Everyone says Sebastian Simons kills his wives. They say he’s cursed by the Blood Moon. Fine. Even if I die, at least I’ll spend my last days destroying my father’s pack. Henry Taylor deserves to lose everything, just like he made my mother and me lose everything.

If I have to seduce the Alpha to do it, so be it. Make him fall for me. Use his resources. Burn the Frostridge Pack to the ground.]

The words blurred. My breath came in short, painful gasps.

[I didn’t expect him to choose me. Out of all those women, he picked the broken one with no wolf. Maybe he really is cursed. Cursed to choose the worst possible bride.

But this works in my favor. The more he keeps me close, the easier my plan becomes.]

The diary slipped from my hands and hit the floor.

"She lied." My voice cracked. "Everything was a lie."

I staggered back until my shoulders hit the wall. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let myself fall for another woman’s lies?

But this was worse than Abigail. So much worse.

Abigail had never been my fated mate. But Emilia? Emilia was mine. The Moon Goddess herself had tied our souls together. That bond was supposed to be sacred, unbreakable.

And she’d spent every moment since our wedding using me.

Maybe we’re reading this wrong, Ryder said desperately. Maybe there’s another explanation...

"What explanation?" I snapped. "’Make him fall in love with me’? ’Use his resources’? It’s pretty fucking clear, Ryder!"

Pain shot through my chest, sharp and real. I stumbled out of the room. My study. I needed to get to my study.

The moment I closed the door, my control snapped.

I grabbed a crystal tumbler and hurled it at the wall. It exploded in a shower of glittering shards.

Stop, Ryder pleaded. You’re bleeding.

I looked down. Blood dripped from my palm where a shard had sliced it open. Physical pain. At least that was real.

Knock. Knock.

I froze. Emilia’s voice came through the door, gentle and concerned. "Sebastian? Why did you lock the door?"

Oh Goddess. She was back.

I pressed my bleeding hand against my chest. Deep breath. Another. I forced my face blank.

I grabbed a handful of tissues, wiped the blood from the wall, scooped the broken glass into the trash. By the time I reached the door, I’d wrapped my injured hand in my handkerchief.

I opened it, hiding my bleeding palm behind the doorframe.

Emilia stood there in one of my old t-shirts, her brown hair slightly damp, blue eyes wide with worry. She looked so genuine. So real. How was she this good at lying?

"What’s wrong with you?" Her gaze swept over my face, searching.

I smiled. It felt like my face might crack. "Nothing. I just fell asleep on the desk."

"Sebastian..."

"I’m fine, really." If she saw the wound, she’d touch me. And I didn’t think I could stand her touch right now without breaking completely. "Don’t worry about me."

She bit her lip, something uncertain flickering across her face. Then she nodded. "Okay. But don’t work too late. Come to bed soon?"

"Yeah. Soon."

I watched her walk down the hallway, her bare feet silent on the floor. The mate bond hummed between us, pulling me to follow her, to pull her into my arms and forget everything I’d read.

Late that night, I walked into the bedroom. She’d left the warm yellow lamp on the nightstand for me, the soft light falling gently on her sleeping face.

I lay down quietly and wrapped my uninjured arm around her slim waist.

The lamp went out, and in that moment, my heart sank into endless darkness.

The next morning, Emilia tiptoed into the bathroom.

By the time she came out, I was already awake. Sitting by the bed. Drinking.

She looked surprised. She’d never seen me start my morning with a drink. She walked over, confused, then noticed the bandage on my hand.

"What happened to your hand?"

I smiled at her, soft and doting. "It’s nothing. I cut it on a metal shelf. Just being careless."

"How bad is it? Let me see."

"It’s fine. Just a scratch."

I set down the drink and pushed back the covers. She grabbed a shirt from the closet and handed it to me. After I put it on, I walked into the bathroom to wash up.

In the mirror by the sink, a cold, hopeless smile slowly spread across my lips.

Before I left, Emilia tied my tie for me like she always did. She didn’t notice anything was off.

Then, out of nowhere, I asked her, my voice heavy with meaning, "Is there anything you want to tell me?"