The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 434

Chapter 434: Where Her Place Is
[Third Person].

~Moonstone Pack~

Breakfast at the Carter household was usually too quiet, broken only by the soft clink of utensils and the occasional sigh from Margaret.

Today, however, a restless, buzzing energy lay beneath the calm surface.

Gabriel Carter sat at the head of the polished dark-wood table, drinking coffee in brooding silence.

Margaret sat to his right, delicate and distant, her attention more on the steam rising from her cup than on her children.

Monique was elegantly dressed despite the early hour, her hair pinned neatly. Gary sat opposite her, looking bored, twirling his spoon. Mabel, seated closest to Gabriel, was the first to break.

“So, Father…” Mabel began, pretending casual interest as she cut into her breakfast. “The welcome banquet last night… was it really grand?”

Gary smirked. “Just spit it out, Mabel. You mean—was Meredith there?”

Gabriel didn’t immediately look up.

Monique leaned in slightly, voice cool. “Well? She must have been there.”

Margaret glanced briefly at her siblings but remained silent.

Gabriel finally answered, voice clipped. “She was present.”

Mabel’s eyes sparkled with thinly veiled glee. “And? How did she behave?”

“Did she humiliate herself?” Gary added with a snort.

Gabriel set down his cutlery with a sharp, yet controlled, motion. “No.”

The siblings exchanged looks.

Monique frowned. “No?” As if that answer made no sense in her worldview.

Gabriel’s tone hardened. “She stood beside Alpha Draven the entire night. She conducted herself properly.”

Mabel blinked, confused and irritated. “Properly? Meredith?”

Gary scoffed loudly. “Father, be serious. She must have looked completely out of place. A wolfless girl in a hall full of Alphas?”

Gabriel shot him a warning glare. Gary looked away.

Monique persisted, annoyance slipping into her voice. “So, no one questioned her? No one pointed out her lack of a wolf?”

“They did not,” Gabriel replied.

This time, even Margaret’s gaze lifted in faint surprise.

Mabel leaned forward, voice low and sharp. “Why? Because Draven hovered around her like a shield?”

Gabriel didn’t respond, but the silence was answer enough.

Just then, Gary slammed his spoon down. “Just great. He is really protecting her.”

Monique sneered. “If he keeps doing that, people will start taking her seriously.”

Mabel clenched her jaw, irritation rising. “I was hoping someone at least reminded her of her place.”

At that, Gabriel finally set his cup down, voice cold enough to freeze the air.

“Her place—” he said, “—is beside Alpha Draven. Whether you like it or not.”

The siblings stiffened.

Margaret exhaled softly but said nothing. Gary muttered under his breath, “She won’t last. She never does.”

Monique lifted her chin stubbornly. “Everyone can protect her now, but eventually, she will show the world exactly who she is.”

Mabel nodded, agreeing far too quickly. “She can’t pretend forever.”

Breakfast continued, tense and hushed, but none of them missed the underlying truth gnawing at them:

Meredith hadn’t failed. She hadn’t embarrassed them, and she hadn’t given anyone a reason to mock her.

And that made the Carter siblings uneasy. Because the longer she stood tall beside Draven, the harder it would be to push her back down.

—

~Fellowes Residence~

Reginald Fellowes sat alone at the long mahogany dining table, the morning sunlight spilling through the tall windows behind him.

A servant poured his tea carefully, his hands steady and his posture straight.

He glanced once at the empty chair to his right. His jaw tightened.

“Where is Wanda?” he asked, voice low but edged with the dominance of a man accustomed to obedience.

The servant bowed immediately. “My lord… Miss Wanda said she has a headache.”

Silence followed.

Reginald didn’t press for details. It wasn’t because he believed his daughter, but because he understood what her absence meant.

A convenient headache. An excuse to avoid consequences.

He gave the servant a cold, dismissive nod and picked up his cutlery.

If Wanda wanted to hide after embarrassing herself last night at the banquet, then she could hide. He would not chase her.

The servant bowed again and retreated silently.

Reginald ate without expression, the metallic clink of utensils echoing faintly through the quiet room.

—

In her bedroom, Wanda sat upright in her queen-sized bed, a silk robe tied loosely around her waist.

A breakfast tray lay across her lap, consisting of sliced fruits, eggs, pastries, and a steaming cup of herbal tea.

She lifted her fork with delicate ease and took another bite. She was not sick; instead, she simply refused to sit across from her father and endure his scrutiny.

She was thinking;

The way Draven ignored me…

The way Dennis embarrassed me…

The way Oscar humiliated me… And worst of all… Meredith.

The memory of the banquet replayed in her mind, and her grip on her fork tightened.

She would not give her father the satisfaction of scolding her again, not this morning.

A few minutes later, a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Enter,” she said, not bothering to hide her irritation.

A young servant stepped inside and immediately bowed, approaching to collect the empty tray.

Wanda watched her closely. “Has my father had breakfast?” she asked abruptly.

“Yes, Miss,” the servant replied. “He finished not long ago.”

“Did he ask about me?” Wanda inquired. The servant nodded.

Wanda narrowed her eyes, her stare sharp and unsettling. “And what did you say to him?”

The servant bowed deeper. “I informed him that you had a headache, my lady. As you instructed.”

Wanda relaxed a little, leaning back against her pillows. “Good.”

The servant nodded, murmured a respectful farewell, and hurried out of the room.

Wanda didn’t stop her. She barely spared her another glance. Her mind was too busy simmering with resentment and plans.

—

At midday, Reginald returned to the dining hall for lunch. His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable. And again, Wanda’s chair was empty.

But this time, He didn’t ask questions, not even one to the servants.

He simply sat, ate his lunch in tense silence, and left the room with the same cold calm he had entered with.

—

A few hours later, the sharp crack of fists meeting padded shields echoed across the Fellowes estate.

Wanda was in the backyard, fully dressed in her combat clothes—black fitted training gear that clung to her frame, her hair tied tightly back.

Sweat glistened across her temples, but her movements were sharp, furious, and relentless.

She wasn’t training; she was venting.

Just then, she spun, slammed her heel into a warrior’s side, and sent him sprawling onto the dirt. The others standing around stiffened.

Her eyes burned wildly, irritated and restless.

“Get up,” she snapped.

The fallen warrior scrambled to his feet despite the pain, bracing his stance again.

Wanda didn’t wait. She lunged, grabbed him by the collar mid-swing, and slammed him down again. The warrior hit the ground with a grunt.

Two others stepped forward, trying to help him to his feet, but Wanda’s head snapped toward them. “Don’t touch him.”

They froze.

Her breathing was uneven, her aura flaring with the agitation of someone stewing in humiliation and rage.

She stalked toward another warrior. “You. Come here.”

He obeyed immediately, though reluctantly, but cautiously.

He barely lifted his hands before Wanda delivered a lightning-fast combination—punch, elbow, and knee, driving him back several steps. He stumbled and tripped over his feet.

“Pathetic,” Wanda spat. “How do you call yourselves warriors when you can’t withstand a few blows from me?”

No one answered. They all knew better.

Just then, another warrior made the mistake of stepping forward as if to intervene. Wanda’s gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade.

“What?” she hissed. “You want to try me too?”

He lowered his eyes.

Wanda scoffed bitterly. “Useless. All of you are useless and powerless.”

The warriors exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared challenge her, not when she was in this state. Not when her temper was this explosive.

Wanda clenched her fists, her chest heaving as she turned away from them and walked back towards the house.

But the anger didn’t fade. If anything… it sharpened. Because the image of Meredith’s calm, confident stare burned in her mind like a spark she couldn’t extinguish.

—

Wanda pushed her bedroom door open with more force than necessary and marched straight into her bathroom.

She stripped out of her sweat-soaked training clothes, tossed them aside, and turned on the shower so that hot steam immediately filled the air.

She stayed under the spray longer than usual, scrubbing her skin as if she could wash away the memory of last night—the banquet. Her jaw clenched at the thought.

After finally calming her breathing, she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and quickly changed into a fresh outfit—a soft cream blouse and tailored black pants.

She brushed her hair smooth, applied light makeup, and straightened her posture.

As she emerged into her room, a knock sounded at her door. Her eyes narrowed. She wasn’t in the mood for any kind of disturbance.

“What is it?” she snapped.

A servant opened the door just enough to bow her head inside. “Miss, your brother has returned.”

For a moment, Wanda stilled.

Levi?

Home?

He hadn’t sent any message. He hadn’t hinted at a return. She wasn’t expecting him in any way.

Surprise flickered across her face, then melted into something bright and eager.

Her chest lifted slightly, her earlier anger momentarily forgotten.

Levi was the only person who ever listened to her complaints about Draven—really listened.

A small, unbidden smile tugged at her lips.

“Where is he?” she asked quickly.

“He is in the sitting room, Miss.”

Wanda didn’t wait for the servant to finish bowing.

She was already moving. Her steps were light, almost excited as she made her way toward her brother.