Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King (Emilia) novel Chapter 37

As soon as the guard pushed the door open, I stopped at the horrifying sight in front of me.

Lucien was squatting beside a body. A body I recognize so well.

Doctor Charles. The man who has always taken care of my people.

“What the hell happened here?” I asked as I walked towards him.

The sight before me made something inside me twist and I felt a kind of grief I didn’t know I could feel.

“He was found dangling from the ceiling this morning, he killed himself,” Lucien said and I couldn’t help but furrow my brows in confusion.

“Why would doctor Charles want to kill himself?” I asked as I bent on the other side of him, the rope still around his neck.

“I don’t know, Your Majesty, I can’t even think of any right now, he seemed to be doing fine last week even just last night before the attack.”

“Hmmm,” I hummed as I examined the body, there wasn’t any scratch on his body that would indicate a struggle. Which means this wasn’t planned or maybe someone did kill him and made it look like he killed himself.

“I need you to get to the bottom of this Lucien, check all the CCTV cameras for the last two or three weeks, let’s see if there was anything off.” I said as I stood up,

“For now, have his body taken from here and prepare for a proper burial,”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lucien said, standing up too.

I looked at the body for a long while trying to figure out why he would kill himself. Doctor Charles was a good man, he helped my warriors when they were hurt from battle. He was passionate about his job.

Could he have been going through something that none of us knew about? If that was the case what could it have been?

I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to push back the heaviness pressing down on my chest. The room felt colder, suffocating. The scent of antiseptic mixed with the faint trace of death clung to the air, and for the first time, the infirmary that once symbolized healing now reeked of despair.

“Cover him,” I said and two guards stepped forward with a white sheet, draping it carefully over the man who had saved countless lives.

I turned to leave, but my feet refused to move. Something about this didn’t sit right with me. Doctor Charles was not the kind of man to give up-not when he’d fought so hard to keep others alive.

“Lucien,” I said again, quieter this time. “Look closely at the rope. Make sure it matches the supplies we keep here. If someone brought it from outside, I want to know.”

His eyes flickered with understanding. “You think this was staged.”

“I think,” I muttered, staring at the sheet-covered body, “that too many strange things are happening at once. And I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Lucien gave a sharp nod before gesturing to the guards. As they lifted the stretcher, I forced myself to turn away. Doctor Charles had always been more than a physician. He’d been a confidant, a quiet source of wisdom when chaos threatened to consume me. The thought of his absence left a hollowness I couldn’t quite describe.

By the time I reached the main hall, my hands were clenched into fists. I needed answers. If Charles truly took his own life, then I’d failed him. If someone took it for him, then blood would be spilled.

I caught Lucien’s voice behind me. “Your Majesty-“

I turned, and he held up something small in his hand. A folded piece of paper, slightly crumpled.

“We found this in his pocket.”

My heartbeat quickened. “Give it to me.”

He handed it over, his eyes searching mine as if trying to read my reaction before I even unfolded it.

I smoothed the paper open. The handwriting was unmistakable-Charles’s neat, precise script.

But the words sent a chill slicing through me:

‘Forgive me. I had no choice. They threatened everything.’

That was it. No name. No detail. Just enough to spark more questions than answers.

I stared at the note, my mind racing. They. Who the hell were they?

My grip tightened around the paper until it crumpled in my palm.

“Lucien,” I said through gritted teeth, “find out who last visited him. Every patient, every guard, every servant who set foot near him this week. I don’t care how long it takes. Someone forced his hand, and I swear on my crown, I will find out who.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” His jaw hardened, and I knew he understood the weight of my command.

As he left, I turned back toward the window, the afternoon light streaming through the glass like pale fire. Outside, my people walked about their day, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within these walls.

Doctor Charles’s death was not just a tragedy—it was a message. And whoever sent it had made a grave mistake.

Because now, I was listening.

And I would not stop until the truth was carved from their bones.