How To Lose Your Billionaire Alpha Husband In 365 Days (Or Less)!-Chapter 91: The Invitation...

~Jasmine’s POV~

"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."

I swallowed, my eyes tracing the underlined words again. Soul-division. I didn’t like how that sounded.

"You’re deep-diving again," Lyra’s voice stirred softly. "Jasmine... he was experimenting with hybrid psychic containment. Goddess. That’s... dangerous."

"I know," I muttered, fingers tightening around the edge of the desk. My knuckles blanched, but I didn’t let go.

Lyra continued cautiously. "This protocol... Moonthread Binding was designed to suppress emergent hybrid traits during volatile awakenings. But without proper sigil grounding, it risks fracturing the psyche. That’s what he meant by soul-division. It could shatter a person’s sense of self."

I didn’t respond. Dangerous was already living under this roof.

I leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of the room.

Aiden was losing himself. Piece by piece, and this cube... this tangled mess of forbidden magic and reckless genius... it might be the only thread we had left to pull.

But how do you pull a thread without unravelling everything?

"You’re considering it, aren’t you?" Lyra said.

"I’m considering everything," I said flatly as I continued.

The cube hummed steadily on my desk, lines of code and ancient glyphs twisting in mid-air as I cross-referenced my father’s notes on the Moonthread project.

It was a hard and painful task. Every line I read felt like pulling on a thread that could either help Aiden or trap him. My eyes stung, but I kept going.

Then, a soft sound pulled me back.

A faint whisper of paper against wood.

I looked down to see that a white envelope had slid beneath my office door.

No knock. No footsteps.

Just... there.

I stood, the chair scraping softly as I moved. The envelope sat innocently on the floor, pristine and out of place—no return address, no markings.

Except one... The seal of the High Council.

A wave of cold prickled down my spine as I bent to pick it up. My fingers brushed over the wax insignia, an elegant sigil shaped like a crescent moon entwined with three arrows. It looked beautiful, regal. But it wasn’t a welcome.

It was a warning.

I carefully broke the seal, feeling my heart race a bit. Inside was a thick card with shiny silver edges and sharp lettering. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

It was an invitation to a business event hosted by a Council member, with all the details clearly spelled out: date, time, and location.

It all felt very formal.

But something was off.

The invitation wasn’t for Jasmine Heart. It was for Jasmine Frost.

I didn’t need Lyra’s voice in my head to understand it... Bait.

I got it right away. It was a test, a trap hidden behind a polite invitation. I laid the card flat on my desk and stared at the name.

Jasmine Frost.

—

The next day, I found Kaiden in the manor’s west wing, going through documents in the library like it was any other day. His calm was infuriatingly intact.

I didn’t bother with greetings. I dropped the envelope onto the table in front of him. The soft slap of paper hitting wood was enough to make his eyes flick up.

He picked it up, broke the seal again, and read the contents with the kind of quiet focus that never boded well.

Once.

Twice.

Then with a long and heavy sigh. "They’re watching you closely. Looking for cracks."

"Of course they are." I dropped into the chair opposite him, folding one leg over the other, arms crossed. "They want to see if the little runaway turned Frost is going to break under pressure."

Kaiden’s lips pressed into a thin line. "This isn’t just about you. It’s about Aiden. They know he’s vulnerable right now. They’re probing the perimeter, seeing where they can slip in."

"Well," I murmured, picking up the invitation and folding it neatly in half, crease sharp and deliberate, "let’s not give them any."

His gaze lingered on me, assessing, weighing. "You know what showing up to this means, right?"

"I do."

"You planning to prove them wrong?"

"That’s the idea."

Kaiden’s lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smirk. "Then we need to make sure you look the part."

I tilted my head. "I always look the part."

"You’ve never had to play the part. There’s a difference."

"I’m a quick learner."

"Good. Because this isn’t going to be a gala, Jasmine, it’s a hunting ground."

The words settled heavy between us. He wasn’t being dramatic. The Council didn’t host events to celebrate business ventures. They hosted them to posture, to test allegiances, to sniff out weakness.

This wasn’t an invitation. It was a summons to war in evening wear.

"I’ll handle Vale," Kaiden said, setting the envelope down.

"He’ll try to make a move while you’re distracted. I’ll make sure he’s too busy cleaning up his own mess."

"Good." My fingers drummed a quiet beat against the tabletop. "And Aiden?"

Kaiden’s expression shifted, something colder slipping into his eyes. "He won’t like this. He’ll tell you to stay home."

"I’m not going to stay home."

"I know." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"But you need to be ready. The moment you walk in there, you’re not just Jasmine. You’re Jasmine Frost. Mate and wife to Alpha Aiden of the Silver Frost Pack. You stumble, even once, and they’ll circle."

I stood, smoothing down the front of my blazer, my mind already flipping through wardrobe options that would make a statement without screaming desperation.

"Then let them circle," I said. "I bite back."

Kaiden huffed a short, almost proud laugh. "Careful. You’re starting to sound like one of us."

"Starting?" I smirked, turning toward the door. "I’ve always been one of you. You’re just late to realise it."

—

I found Aiden in his study, leaning back in his chair with the kind of lazy posture that was all confidence and no effort. The lamplight softened the sharp lines of his face, and when his eyes lifted to meet mine, the faint smile there felt like it was just for me.

"Hey," I murmured, walking around his desk to perch on the edge. He reached out, fingers brushing over my knee before sliding up to rest at my waist.

"You look like you’ve been plotting something," he said.

"Maybe." I leaned in, letting my lips ghost over his for a second before pulling back. "I want to go shopping."

His brows lifted slightly. "What’s the occasion?"

"Nothing," I said, a smile tugging at my mouth. "I’m just in the mood to spend some cash."

That earned me a slow, amused grin. "That’s the kind of talk I like to hear. Spoken like a true Frost."

He nodded once, tilting his head as if weighing something. "Want company?"

"Sophia’s coming with me," I said.

He leaned back again, releasing me with a faint smirk. "Have fun, then. But add me to your plans later."

"Consider it done."

—

I pulled my phone from my pocket as I left his study and hit Sophia’s number.

"Tell me you’re free," I said when she picked up.

"I’m always free for bad decisions," she replied instantly.

"I don’t see how shopping is a bad decision."

"It depends. Buying the entire mall sounds like a bad financial decision."

"Oh my..." I couldn’t help but laugh. "How soon can you get here?"

"Thirty."

"See you soon, girlfriend."

Twenty-five minutes later, Sophia swept into the foyer like she’d been summoned for a coronation. She clapped her hands together like we were heading into battle.

"All right, Commander Frost," she said, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "We’re hitting downtown and we’re not coming back until we find you something that makes the Council remember why they should be afraid of you."

I arched a brow. "Commander?"

"You think this is just a fashion trip? No, sweetheart, this is strategy. Armor."

Lyra chuckled in my head. "She’s not wrong. We could use something that says ’look at me wrong and I’ll take your head off.’"

"I don’t need a dress to do that," I muttered.

Sophia just grinned like a cat who’d spotted a canary. "Maybe not. But imagine doing it in six-inch heels."

—

The boutique Sophia dragged me to was the kind of place where you didn’t check the price tags unless you enjoyed heart attacks. The air smelled faintly of lavender and expensive leather, and every rack looked like it was curated for magazine covers.

Sophia dove into the aisles like she’d been training for this her entire life. I lingered at the entrance for a moment, scanning fabrics and cuts.

A sales associate materialised beside me, smiling politely. "Looking for something specific, ma’am?"