Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Emilia’s POV

The morning light streamed through the bedroom windows when I woke up to find Sebastian’s side of the bed already cold. I grabbed my phone and checked the time.

I reached out to him through the mind-link.

"When did you sneak out? You could’ve woken me up, you know."

His voice came through warm and amused. "You looked too peaceful. I didn’t have the heart to disturb you."

"Well, I need to come by your office later. There’s something important we need to discuss."

"What is it?"

"The Florida resort project. You said I could give it to my father, remember? I need to sign the contract with him today."

There was a brief pause before Sebastian responded. "The contract is in the middle drawer of my study desk. Take it whenever you need it."

"Thank you, Sebastian. I’ll get it signed and send it over to the company."

"Alright. See you later, sweetheart."

I closed the link and let out a long breath. Once I had that recording pen destroyed, I could finally tell Sebastian everything. The evidence Linda had been holding over my head was like a time bomb, and I refused to let her blow up my happiness.

After a quick shower, I headed to Sebastian’s study. The middle drawer was packed with various documents, and I carefully sorted through them one by one. Then my fingers brushed against something at the very bottom. A photograph.

I pulled it out, and my heart stopped.

Three people smiled at the camera. Sebastian stood on the left, looking younger but just as handsome. In the middle was a beautiful woman with dark hair. This had to be Abigail Tanner. And on the right, holding a guitar with an easy smile...

"No," I whispered, my hand flying to my mouth. "No, no, no."

It was him. The street musician from Paris. The man with the guitar who’d chased down the guy who stole my wallet. Ethan Rowling.

Except his name wasn’t Ethan Rowling at all, was it?

My legs gave out and I collapsed into Sebastian’s chair, the photograph trembling in my shaking hands. "Ethan Rowling... Damien Zordon," I muttered to myself. "Oh goddess, they’re the same person."

"Emilia?" Eve’s voice rang in my mind. "What’s wrong? Your heart is racing."

"Eve, I met him. In Paris. Sebastian’s cousin, the one who ran off with Abigail. I met him and I had no idea who he was."

The room seemed to spin around me. Of all the cities in the world, of all the cafés in Paris, how did I end up meeting the one person Sebastian would most want to find? The cousin who’d betrayed him, who’d stolen his fiancée on their wedding day?

My stomach twisted at every possible outcome, each one worse than the last. Should I tell Sebastian? He deserved to know, didn’t he?

But if I told him, he’d go to Paris immediately. He’d confront Damien, or Ethan, or whatever he was calling himself now. And if Damien was there...

"Abigail must be there too," I murmured, barely a whisper.

And that was the real problem, wasn’t it? What would happen when Sebastian saw her again? Would all those old feelings come rushing back? I’d seen how affected he was when he removed that tattoo, how the memories still haunted him. What if seeing her in person broke down the walls he’d built?

"You’re spiraling," Eve said. "Talk to someone. You can’t carry this alone."

She was right. I needed advice, and there was only one person I could turn to.

I found Mila in the living room, her eyes closed as she listened to an opera recording.

"Mom?" I called softly.

Her eyes opened, and she smiled warmly at me. "Yes, dear?"

"I need to tell you something. Something important."

The smile faded slightly as she sat up straighter, clearly picking up on my tone. "What is it?"

I took a deep breath. "I met someone in Paris. When Sebastian and I were there for our trip."

"Who?" Her expression grew cautious, like she already knew where this was going.

"Your nephew. Damien Zordon. Except he’s calling himself Ethan Rowling now."

Mila’s face went carefully blank. "How can you be sure? You’ve never met Damien before."

I explained everything. The street performance, the conversation I’d had with the charming guitarist who’d seemed so familiar somehow. Then I told her about the photograph I’d just found in Sebastian’s study.

When I finished, Mila let out a long, heavy sigh.

"You’re wondering if you should tell Sebastian," she said.

"Yes. I don’t know what to do."

"Don’t tell him."

Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

I blinked in surprise. "What? But..."

"Emilia, I already knew Damien was in France," Mila interrupted gently. "I’ve known for some time. But I never told anyone, especially not my son."

"Why not?"

"Because that woman nearly destroyed him," Mila said, her voice tight with old pain. "I watched my son suffer through the worst heartbreak you can imagine. I watched him build walls around his heart, convinced he’d never trust or love again. I refuse to let her have any more power over him."

"But if I don’t tell him now, and he finds out later that I knew..." I trailed off.

"As long as you don’t admit you saw that photograph, he’ll never connect ’Ethan Rowling’ with his cousin Damien," Mila pointed out. "It’s a common enough name. You had no reason to be suspicious."

I sat in silence, turning her words over in my head. Part of me wanted to argue, to insist that honesty was always the best policy. But another part, the part that had watched Sebastian wake up screaming from nightmares, that had seen the pain flicker across his face whenever Abigail’s name was mentioned, that part agreed with Mila.

"Okay," I finally said. "I won’t tell him."

Mila reached over and squeezed my hand. "You’re doing the right thing. Sometimes protecting the people we love means keeping certain truths to ourselves."

I nodded, though guilt already churned in my stomach.

I grabbed the resort contract from Sebastian’s desk and headed out to meet Henry.