How To Lose Your Billionaire Alpha Husband In 365 Days (Or Less)!-Chapter 88: The Cycle Continues...

~Jasmine’s POV~

Time felt like it was slipping away. I couldn’t tell if it was minutes or hours passing. All that mattered in that moment was him and me, and my strong urge to hold onto him.

Eventually, his breathing found a slow, shaky but steady rhythm.

I eased him back, gently guiding him onto the bed. I pulled his head into my lap, fingers combing through his hair in long, soothing strokes.

His eyes fluttered.

"You’re reckless," he murmured, his voice sounding so raw it scraped against my skin.

"So are you." I smiled, though it wobbled at the edges. "Guess we deserve each other."

A breathless chuckle escaped him, half laughter, half exhaustion, all broken.

"I’ll clean up," I said quietly, shifting to stand.

But his fingers, still weak, still trembling, tightened just enough around my wrist. "Stay," he whispered.

It was just one word... one fragile, barely audible word, but it held the weight of a thousand unsaid things.

So I stayed.

I stayed as his breathing evened out. I stayed as his eyelids drooped, too heavy to keep open. I stayed as his body finally surrendered to sleep, his hand never letting go of me completely.

The room still smelled strongly of wolfsbane, and the broken syringe lay on the floor. But for now, the storm had passed. He was safe. For now.

—

I didn’t go into the office the next morning.

Lisa could handle it. She was more than capable. I sent her a clipped message: "Need you to see things out today. A personal emergency."

That was all she needed, or so I thought.

I stayed by Aiden’s side.

The room was quiet, save for the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. It had taken hours for the wolfsbane to burn through his system.

Hours of watching him twist in restless sleep, his skin fever-hot one moment and deathly pale the next. But now, finally, his breath came easier. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that wasn’t perfect, but it was human.

I sat in a chair by his bed, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them, watching the first rays of sunlight slice through the blinds. The light touched his face, making him look softer, less dangerous.

It was a lie, of course.

He stirred just after noon. His lashes fluttered, brows knitting as if waking up itself was a chore. His eyes found me, confusion first, then recognition. Then... embarrassment.

"How are you?" I asked.

He sat up, groaning slightly. "I’m fine," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Really."

I didn’t argue.

Not yet.

He wasn’t ready for that conversation, and honestly, neither was I.

Instead, I stood and left him to his pride, heading down the hall to my study.

The black cube sat on my desk, humming faintly, as if sensing something was wrong. Today, it pulsed with a dull glow when my fingers brushed it.

But I didn’t pick it up.

My phone rang, vibrating sharply against the wooden surface. Lisa.

"What’s up?" I answered.

"We have a problem," she said without preamble.

"Of course we do." I sighed, already moving to my room. "Go on."

"PR just sent me this. Mr. Vale’s trying to reverse the pension program changes you made this quarter. He’s framing it as a cost-saving restructure."

I closed my eyes. "Of course he is."

It took less than thirty minutes to bathe, get dressed and get to the office. My heels echoed sharply against the marble floors as I strode through Hear Entreprises’ building.

My personal secretary, Lisa, met me at the glass conference room, tablet in hand, hair pulled into a no-nonsense bun.

"Mr Vale is making his move," she said, tapping the screen. "Press is already running with it. If we don’t counter now, it’s going to spiral."

I read through the statement Vale had leaked; it was typical corporate sabotage, wrapped up in polished language about ’efficiency’ and ’responsible fiscal management,’ but all it really was... was a power play... a slap disguised as a handshake.

"Alright." I exhaled sharply.

"Draft a rebuttal. Use my name, not a faceless PR ghost. Make it personal. This was my initiative, and I’ll be damned if he turns it into a numbers game."

Lisa smiled. "Already working on it."

I took care of everything quickly and efficiently, issuing a statement that cut through all the bureaucracy like a surgeon’s scalpel. I turned Vale’s story upside down.

But even while I was focused on that task, my thoughts kept wandering back to the manor... back to Aiden.

The office was overly bright and harsh. The ticking of the clocks seemed louder than usual. Shadows looked weird and stretched out. Each time I checked my phone, I felt a little more anxious.

As soon as the clock ticked five, I left the office.

The sun was starting to set, painting the city skyline in a warm orange glow. It made everything look softer and more inviting.

But that appearance was deceptive.

Back at the estate, I found myself in the kitchen with the chef, sleeves rolled up, chopping vegetables. It wasn’t about the food. I needed the mindless rhythm of it, the clean, simple act of cutting through something that didn’t talk back.

Aiden walked in without shoes, his hair all messy. He looked a bit out of sorts but was trying hard to act like everything was fine. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

"You’re in my kitchen, Mrs Frost," he said, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, the faintest smirk playing at his lips.

"Our kitchen," I corrected, without looking up.

He walked over, plucking a cherry tomato from the cutting board. "Don’t let Chef Laurent see you with that knife. He’ll think you’re staging a coup."

"He’s in the pantry. I’ve got time." I glanced at him, arching a brow. "Feeling brave enough to steal food in front of me?"

His grin deepened. "You’d be surprised how reckless I can be."

"I’m well aware."

He leaned closer, plucking another tomato, this time right out of my hand. "Missed me at work today?"

"Don’t start, Aiden."

He gave a mock-wounded sigh. "I was just going to say the place was boring without you."

"Uh-huh." I glanced up, locking eyes with him. "And how are you feeling now? Aside from annoyingly smug."

"Better." His voice dropped into something softer. "Thanks to you."

I wasn’t going to let him charm his way past the reality of what happened last night, but this wasn’t the moment. Instead, I nudged him with my elbow, feigning casual. "Dinner first. Then we talk."

He accepted that... for now.

We ate together at the long dining table, a soft jazz playlist humming in the background.

We kept the conversation casual and focused on small talk. He asked about my day, and I checked in on how he was doing.

Sometimes, his hand would accidentally touch mine and stay there just a moment too long, like he was wondering if we could let ourselves be vulnerable without everything falling apart.

For a moment, it felt normal.

But when the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the tension returned.

And the cycle began again.

I found him in the hallway, doubled over, hand braced against the wall as his body convulsed. His claws had already half-shifted, fingertips shredding the wallpaper.

His breathing came in sharp, ragged gasps, his back arched as though the shift was trying to tear free from his bones.

"Aiden!" I rushed to him.

He didn’t answer.

His reflection caught his attention, one of the decorative mirrors lining the hallway. He stared, transfixed, until a snarl ripped from his throat and his fist shot forward, shattering the glass into a rain of silver shards.

He stumbled back, eyes wild, fists clenched, blood pooling at his knuckles.

"Come on," I murmured, slipping beneath his arm, looping it over my shoulder.

"Not here. You’re not doing this in a hallway."

It was like moving a boulder, but he followed.

I dragged him back into his room, kicking the door shut behind us. He was trembling, fists still clenched, breath coming in harsh, painful bursts. His skin was hot, feverish, yet he looked like he was freezing, shivering from the inside out.

I sat him on the edge of the bed, sliding behind him, wrapping my arms around his chest, holding him tight, cheek pressed against the curve of his back.

"I’ve got you," I whispered. "You’re not alone in this."

His heart thundered beneath my palms, erratic and wild, but I didn’t loosen my grip.

We stayed like that for what felt like forever.

His breathing never fully settled. He’d drift off into brief, shallow sleep, only to jolt awake minutes later, body taut with tension. I held him through it all, murmuring reassurances, grounding him with touch, with presence, with everything I had left.

Sleep was a luxury we didn’t get that night.

But we survived it.

Barely.