Chapter 63 Because You’re My Wife
Emilia’s POV
I jerked my head up.
Sebastian was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, those green eyes fixed on me with an unreadable expression.
My heart did an uncomfortable flip.
"Did you close the door?" he asked.
I blinked. Did I? Probably not.
"What’s the matter?" I said quickly, deflecting. I sat up straighter, trying to look casual. "Need something?"
"I think you have something to tell me."
I shook my head decisively. "No. Nothing. We don’t speak the same language anyway."
His lips twitched. Almost a smile.
"Then I’ll be straightforward," he said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room. "You did it, didn’t you?"
My stomach dropped.
He didn’t specify what "it" was, but we both knew. The fake proposal. Linda’s humiliation. The whole setup.
I instinctively tried to reach for his thoughts, desperate to know what he was thinking.
Nothing.
That infuriating silence again. Like trying to read a blank wall.
Frustration coiled in my chest. Maybe he was just like everyone else—cursing me in his head, calling me a worthless half-breed witch with no wolf. Maybe it was better I couldn’t hear it.
I exhaled slowly and met his gaze head-on.
"Yes," I said flatly. "I did it."
No point in lying. He already knew.
Sebastian tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.
"Why?" he asked.
I leaned back against the headboard, crossing my arms to mirror his posture.
"Because I don’t want to be sold off like livestock for a business deal," I said coolly. "And I wanted that money to go somewhere useful instead of lining Dorothy’s pockets."
"A convincing reason," he said. His voice was calm. "But I think there’s more to it. Revenge, maybe?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Revenge?"
"Isn’t it?" He took another step closer. "The illegitimate daughter always hates the man who abandoned her mother."
I laughed.
"That’s a cute theory," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "But you’re wrong. The illegitimate daughter has no reason to hate anyone—except maybe the woman who chose to sleep with a married man in the first place."
That shut him up for a second.
I continued, my voice sharper now. "My mother made her choices. Henry made his. I’m just dealing with the fallout. So no, Sebastian, this isn’t about revenge. It’s about survival."
He stared at me for a long moment, and I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not.
"Fair enough," he said finally. "But let me make one thing clear. I’ve been through six failed marriages. That doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate a woman trying to manipulate me."
"Noted," I said dryly. "I’ll add it to the list of things you won’t tolerate. Right after ’women touching you’ and ’people existing in your general vicinity.’"
His jaw tightened, but I caught the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.
He turned to leave, but I couldn’t help myself.
"How did you know?" I called after him. "How were you so sure it was me?"
Sebastian paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder.
"Who else could it be?" he said simply.
I frowned. "Linda must have told you I hinted for her to go into your study."
"She did."
"And you believed me over her?"
He looked at me, his expression unreadable.
"She wanted to get even with you," he said quietly. "I stopped her."
My breath caught. "Why?"
Sebastian’s gaze held mine, steady and intense.
"Because you’re my—" He stopped abruptly, his jaw clenching. "Because legally, you’re my wife. When someone accuses you, I defend you."
My heart did that stupid flip again.
"...Thank you," I said softly.
He nodded once and left without another word.
I sat there in the dark, staring at the closed door.
"Legally, you’re my wife."
Why did that phrase make my chest feel tight?
Hours later, I woke up starving.
My stomach growled loudly, reminding me I’d skipped dinner entirely. If I didn’t eat something soon, my stomach was going to stage a full revolt.
I crept out of the small room as quietly as possible, careful not to wake Sebastian. The pack house was silent except for the steady rhythm of his breathing from the other side of the door.
Downstairs, I rummaged through the kitchen. The refrigerator was full of leftovers I couldn’t eat cold, but tucked away in a cabinet, I found a box of instant noodles.
Jackpot.
I boiled water and poured it over the noodles, waiting impatiently as the smell of cheap sodium and MSG filled the air. It was possibly the best thing I’d smelled all day.
I rested my head on the table, eyes closed, letting the warmth of the steam drift over my face.
When the timer in my head went off, I picked up my fork and took a huge bite.
And that’s when I looked up.
Sebastian was standing right in front of me.
I choked.
The noodles got stuck halfway down my throat, and I couldn’t swallow or spit them out. My eyes watered as I struggled, mortified.
Sebastian’s lips curved into a slow, amused smile.
"Not bad, right?" he said, glancing at the cup of instant noodles. "The taste?"
I finally managed to swallow and coughed. "It’s fine. Want some?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like someone who eats instant noodles?"
"Fair point," I muttered. "Are you here for water?"
"No." His smile widened slightly. "I came to see what you were doing."
"Eating," I said flatly. "Obviously."
"Did you have dinner?"
"Yes."
My stomach chose that exact moment to growl loudly.
Sebastian’s eyes dropped to my traitorous stomach, and I quickly added, "I didn’t eat much."
He studied me for a moment, then said, "Want to go out and eat something real?"
I froze. "What?"
"Do you want to or not?" he repeated, impatient now.
"Oh. Uh. Yes?"
I dumped the instant noodles and followed him out into the night. Moonlight spilled over us as we walked, our shadows stretching long and separate on the ground.
He led me to a cozy restaurant. It was warm and softly lit, with modern decor and quiet music playing in the background. The kind of place that felt... homely.
I slid into the booth across from him, still half-convinced I was dreaming.
Sebastian Simons. The cold, untouchable Alpha. Taking me out for a midnight meal.
What the hell was happening?