How To Lose Your Billionaire Alpha Husband In 365 Days (Or Less)!-Chapter 90: A Temporary Solution...

~Jasmine’s POV~

Before anyone could respond, a soft knock echoed from the doorway. We all turned, and our eyes landed on Aiden’s pack healer... Alara.

"You called her, too?"

Alara stepped in with the kind of presence that didn’t need an announcement. Her braid was laced with silver threads that shimmered faintly in the morning light, moonthread sacred to the pack healers.

Her aura was sharp, focused, as if she already knew the weight of what she’d find.

"Alpha Aiden," she called in a brisk but not unkind tone. "Sit."

Aiden didn’t argue this time; he just headed to the chair and sat down.

Alara knelt in front of him, her fingers resting gently on his chest as she closed her eyes and concentrated. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, and the air grew heavy as her magic moved beneath his skin, exploring and examining.

Kaiden and I stood silent as statues, watching as Aiden flinched beneath her touch, muscles coiling as if bracing for impact.

When Alara finally pulled back, her brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. "The curse is progressing," she said in a neutral tone. "Slowly, but it’s deepening. Considering it’s almost time, this isn’t unexpected."

"Can you stop it?" I asked, stepping closer.

Alara’s gaze met mine and she shook her head. "No. It’s ancient magic. Beyond my reach."

The words landed like stones.

"What do we do?" Kaiden asked, his arms folded, tension brimming beneath his skin.

"There’s only one path left," Alara said, standing. "The curse says he goes feral on his 31st birthday, except he finds and marks his mate."

She didn’t say anything else... not that she needed to. The weight of Aiden’s stare landed on me, but for once, he didn’t argue.

"We don’t have much time," Alara added.

"If the bond isn’t sealed soon, the curse will take full control."

Alara pulled a small glass vial from her bag. The liquid inside was dark and shimmered like ink, with silver threads that sparkled in the light.

"This will suppress your wolf," she said, holding it out to Aiden. "It won’t heal you. Don’t get your hopes up. But it might buy you time."

Aiden’s jaw tightened. He didn’t take the vial right away. His eyes flicked to me, searching, as if the answer he wanted was somehow hidden in my expression.

"Time for what?" he asked, though I already knew he knew.

Alara didn’t soften her words. "Time to figure yourselves out. Time to end the curse."

Her words didn’t sound like a suggestion, nor did they sound like a request; it was a statement of fact.

The bond, the mark. The choice neither of us wanted to rush into, but time wasn’t a luxury we had anymore.

Aiden clutched the vial tightly, and I thought it might break in his hand. He didn’t say anything, but his silence spoke volumes. I decided not to press him for more details. This wasn’t the right time or place to talk about it.

But we’d have it.

Soon.

—

Later that day, I stood outside the executive conference room, straightening the lapels of my blazer as Lisa handed me the updated agenda.

"Mr Vale’s already in there," she said under her breath. "Came in early, looking way too comfortable."

Of course he did.

"Let him play his games," I muttered, offering Lisa a faint smile. "I’ll end it."

I pushed the doors open.

The room was stylish, with a marble table and large windows highlighting the city skyline. The minimalist art suggested wealth while maintaining a sense of taste.

However, even with its modern look, the atmosphere felt heavy and uncomfortable as soon as I walked in.

And there he was.

My uncle was seated near the head of the table like he belonged there, legs crossed, fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm against his tablet. His smirk was already waiting for me, carved perfectly into that smug face.

"Didn’t realise this was open to the public," I said as I breezed past him.

"Just offering insight," he replied smoothly, his tone dripping with false civility.

I stopped and turned slowly.

I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to. The weight of the room shifted as every pair of eyes landed on me.

"You don’t need insight, Mr. Vale," I said, lips curving into a polite, dangerous smile. "You need to remember who’s in charge."

A flicker of something crossed his face, amusement? Annoyance? He was good at masking it. But he wasn’t good enough.

I stepped closer, placing both hands flat on the table as I leaned in slightly.

"You try to undo one more policy behind my back," I continued, "and I’ll show you how much of my father I still carry."

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was charged.

Vale’s eyes narrowed, his lips tightening as though he wanted to reply but didn’t dare. He stood abruptly, gathering his things with practiced, exaggerated calm.

"I wouldn’t dream of overstepping, Mrs. Frost," he said, though the glint in his eyes promised otherwise.

I smiled. "Good. Let’s keep it that way."

He left first.

No one followed.

I took my seat at the head of the table, adjusting my blazer with care, and rested my hands lightly on the polished surface.

Lisa entered quietly, setting the updated reports in front of me, her eyes gleaming with barely hidden satisfaction.

"Alright," I said, flipping open the folder.

"Let’s get back to work."

—

The suppressant was working... too well.

Aiden moved through the house like a shadow of his former self. His once-bright eyes now seemed dull, barely showing any spark, even when I tried to engage him. He always walked with hunched shoulders, as if he was burdened by invisible weights.

At breakfast, he’d sit across from me, hands curled around a coffee mug that had gone cold, his silence stretching longer than the shadows outside.

When he did speak, it was sparse, small, careful sentences, as if words themselves might fracture him further.

Ace, his wolf, was quiet too. Not in his usual simmering way, where you could feel the tension lurking beneath his skin, waiting to pounce.

No, this was different. This was the kind of silence that predators have when they’re caged too long, lethal, but listless. Aiden was suffocating, and he thought this was safer.

One evening, he dropped onto the couch next to me. It wasn’t his usual way of sprawling out and taking up space. This time, it felt like a controlled fall, almost like he was giving in.

He grunted softly, one hand pressed to his side as he adjusted himself with too much care.

"I hate it," he muttered, not looking at me. His gaze was pinned to some invisible spot ahead, vacant. "But it’s better than hurting you."

I wanted to scream, to shake him, to make him understand that this slow change in him was hurting me too. It was a different kind of pain... quiet but still deep.

But I didn’t say any of it. Instead, I moved closer and rested my head on his shoulder, feeling how cold his skin had gotten.

"You’re already hurting me," I whispered.

But it was so quiet, I wasn’t sure if he even heard it.

That night, when he finally went to bed, I stayed behind. The house felt oddly quiet—not peaceful, but heavy and suffocating, as if the walls were holding their breath.

I turned to the cube.

It sat on my desk, simple and shiny, its dark metallic surface reflecting the faint light from my study. Blue holographic threads floated in mid-air, wrapping and intertwining, their glow creating unusual patterns around the room.

If there was a curse, there had to be a cure. Or at least a crack in its armour. I wasn’t expecting miracles anymore. But I needed... something.

Hours bled away as I scoured through layers of my father’s encrypted research.

The room was dim, save for the pale pulse of the cube’s projections. My fingers ached from scrolling, sifting, tapping through his insane, brilliant mind.

Diagrams of sigils overlapped with molecular models. Spellwork cross-referenced with neurological pathways. It was a madman’s library, and yet, somewhere in the chaos, there had to be an answer.

One project kept surfacing, no matter how deep I buried myself in other files.

Moonthread Binding.

It was labeled as a magical protocol under psychic modulation, lunar suppression, and hybrid stabilization.

The descriptions made my head throb. This wasn’t just magic. It wasn’t just science. It was both, intertwined in a way that made my skin crawl.

Notes scrawled by my father ran along the margins, his handwriting jagged, the ink bleeding into diagrams like veins.

"Used in early stages of controlled awakenings."

"Highly unstable when subjected to emotional triggers."

"DO NOT attempt without active lunar sigil grounding. Risk of soul-division: high."