The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 187: What Needs To Be Done

Esme stood before her open drawer, carefully laying out a selection of dresses as Finnian lingered nearby, his expression a mix of confusion and reluctant curiosity. She then turned to him with two dresses in hand, her blue eyes glimmering with expectation.

"Finn, tell me," she said, holding up the garments for his inspection. One was a sleek black gown, the other a soft lavender ensemble. "Which one suits me better? I’m completely at a loss here."

Finnian sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the edge of the room. He couldn’t recall a time when his sister had been so consumed by her wardrobe, let alone sought his opinion about it.

Esme always looked stunning, effortlessly so, and yet he could sense that wasn’t the kind of reassurance she was looking for right now.

"Why not call for a proper dressmaker or someone like Althea for example to help you out instead?" he asked, his tone edged with a hint of impatience. "And can I go now? Everyone’s downstairs celebrating, and I wanted to see the Alpha."

Esme frowned, her gaze sharp yet pleading. "Finn, you’re my support system. I need you here," she said, her voice softer but insistent. "Now tell me, the black or the other one?"

Finnian exhaled heavily, shifting his weight. As much as he wasn’t a fan of being dragged into these kinds of dilemmas, there was no denying that she really came to him when she could have sent for someone better. He glanced at the dresses again, his lips pressing into a thin line, and he finally chose one which he genuinely believed would suit her.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Acheron had popped a confetti cannon over Donovan’s head with a loud cheer, grinning from ear to ear.

The main hall buzzed with excitement as everyone gathered to celebrate the miraculous news of Donovan regaining his sight. The air was filled with laughter and chatter, but Donovan, overwhelmed by the attention, wanted nothing more than to retreat from the lively chaos unfolding around him.

"Where’s the wine?!" Acheron barked with exaggerated urgency, snapping his fingers impatiently at a group of workers who scurried off to get the drinks. "This calls for a proper celebration."

Simon and Luca stood by Marisa, their faces alight with joy as they kept her company. Not even Marisa could resist the cheerful chaos. It was as if the room itself had absorbed everyone’s collective happiness, radiating warmth and relief in the hearts of all of them.

"So, what do you think?" Revana asked, her lips curving into a playful smirk as she crossed her arms. "How does it feel to see your friends? Do we look better than you imagined or worse?" Her teasing drew a wave of laughter from the group.

"I’m sure I topped everyone," Acheron cut in with an exaggerated flair, running his fingers through his hair and striking a dramatic pose. "It’s not everyday you meet someone this perfect. Look at these biceps."

Acheron flexed, his muscles bulging as he struck another pose. "This is the result of intense training and unmatched capabilities."

The room collectively groaned and rolled their eyes at his boasting. Their fond exasperation was a sign that this kind of behavior from Acheron was nothing new. Still, the joy in the room was palpable, and for a moment, even Donovan couldn’t help but feel the warmth of their celebration, despite his discomfort with being the center of attention.

He brushed off the glitters from his hair. As much as he appreciated everyone, all he truly wanted was to be with his mate, but that wasn’t even an option at the moment, not when she kicked him out of her bedroom chamber.

His attention shifted to Althea who approached, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I don’t even know what to say right now," she uttered, her voice catching in her throat.

Donovan rose to his feet and responded with a simple, unceremonious gesture. His hand rose, and he gently patted her head before he turned, heading toward the exit.

"I’ll be back," he said, his tone calm but resolute.

"Wait, where are you going? The drinks just arrived," Acheron called after him, his voice tinged with confusion as he watched Donovan disappear from view, leaving the group behind.

Althea raised a finger to clarify the unspoken. "He just regained his sight. He’s going to need some time to take it all in, to adjust to... everything. We can celebrate later. This must feel like an entirely different world to him, right?"

Lothar offered a small, understanding smile and nodded. "Yeah, let’s give him some space. He’ll come around when he’s ready."

In the solitude of the backyard, Donovan sat alone on the weathered bench. The snow that once covered the entire floor had been swept away by the workers after Acheron’s last instruction, and the cool air wasn’t as harsh as the previous night.

Donovan’s mind flashed with all the memories he had seen from his childhood, moments he had forgotten. Though, how he ended up bonding with Esme didn’t make sense to him. The bond wasn’t even activated at that time, unless she had somehow encountered death, which led to the bond automatically activating itself, hence, he gained freedom from the spell he was placed under for so many years. The one who came to him, in his dream state was Esme.

The more Donovan pondered on those memories, the more he felt something was amiss. If Esme had been unwell this whole time, how did she get cured? There were still some certain loose ends he couldn’t knot together, and that includes his family history, and who began all of this nightmare. It no longer mattered if the true bearer was the one to start the current problem. Maybe just like his father, what if the true bearer was also trying to seek a solution, and got caught in the web.

"I’m going to have to visit those witches," Donovan murmured to himself.

His posture was rigid as he remained seated, whilst his eyes remained fixed on the horizon with a distant, haunted expression.

The crunch of footsteps against grass drew his attention. He turned his head, his gaze sharpening as he noticed someone approaching. freёweɓnovel.com

"You don’t seem nearly as thrilled as someone finally witnessing the world for what it truly is," Leonardo murmured, sliding into the seat beside him. "What’s the matter? Are you unimpressed?"

Donovan offered no reply, and Leonardo sighed. "This bad habit of yours never seem to go away, does it? You’ve always left me in silence, but I never complain, do I? You must think I’m still naive."

"Do you know our bloodline is tied to a curse, a different one," Donovan said at last, making Leonardo glance at him. "The stories we heard was that our father was sick, but it was a bloodline curse."

"How do you know that?"

"Esme’s father told me," he shook his head slightly and leaned back. "I remember. The name Morgrim means Grim death."

"I did find it suspicious from the beginning," Leonardo hummed. "Father wasn’t the only monster born of the Morgrim. But now that I think about it, he wasn’t a monster at all — just another victim shackled to a bloodline curse he desperately wanted to escape from. He was afraid of death, so the path he chose was a wrong one, and the prize cost so many people’s lives."

"I believe if the true bearer wanted, he could have ended us long before now," Donovan murmured, his brows furrowing slightly. "But that didn’t happen. The one responsible keeps spreading the curse, and he’s probably the one who made father give in. Do you remember the night when I couldn’t wake up."

"Yeah?"

"The true bearer came to me," Donovan met Leonardo’s questioning stare. "He said he’s the reason I’m still alive... which means he knows about the curse. I have a feeling the true bearer is equally a Morgrim, and the next person to inherit the sickness is me. If I get rid of the true bearer’s curse, I won’t have much to live for. I’ll die from the bloodline curse."

He rose from the bench. "Come what may, I’ll do what needs to be done."