The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 58

Chapter 58: The Thoughtful Mistress

**(Third Person)**

Two days had passed since the horse incident, and Meredith was perfectly fine with the pains gone, except for the faint mark from the bruise that was yet to disappear completely.

And this morning, Jeffery delivered her a small envelope containing her Duskmoor ID card.

She stared at it in silence, turning the hard plastic over in her hands.

Kira and Deidra stood nearby, their curiosity piqued. Meredith lifted the ID card, eyeing her face on it—eyes a little dull, skin too pale, the lighting far from flattering. There was no real sharpness or clarity. Just a muted version of herself staring back.

"This doesn’t even look like me," she said, brows twitching.

Deidra leaned over first. "It’s a bit dark..."

Kira joined her, nodding slowly. "Normally, they don’t issue IDs with low-quality photos. Duskmoor’s government is strict about that."

Meredith blinked. "Then how did mine get approved?"

Kira and Deidra smiled in unison, like they were waiting for that question.

"Because you are special, my lady," Kira said brightly.

Meredith let out a short, dry chuckle.

Special?

That word rolled around her mind, tasting bitter on her tongue.

She agreed with them, but not for the same reason.

’The only woman cursed by the Moon Goddess herself,’ she thought. ’Sure, that sounds like the kind of "special" no one would want to be.’

She sighed and dropped the card on her vanity table, eyes drifting to the edge of the mirror. "Azul, Cora, and Arya still haven’t received theirs. Will they get one too?"

"They will," Kira said, her voice assuring. "Beta Jeffery said he will take care of the rest by the weekend. Yours was just the priority—being the Alpha’s wife."

Meredith didn’t respond. She just nodded slightly and kept her gaze on the ID card. That title still felt like a collar.

---

The late afternoon sun dripped golden warmth over the balcony, where Wanda reclined in a woven lounger, a glass of wine in one hand and a glossy fashion magazine in the other. The rustle of pages filled the air until soft footsteps approached.

Xamira arrived side by side with her nanny, Dorothy.

Wanda lowered the magazine slightly and raised a perfectly carved brow.

"Good afternoon, Miss Fellowes," Dorothy said. "Xamira asked to come see you."

Wanda offered a polite smile. "Of course." She glanced at Xamira, then at Dorothy. "You may go. I will watch her."

Dorothy nodded and stepped back into the house.

Wanda patted the basket chair next to hers. "Come, darling. Sit here."

Xamira obediently climbed up into the chair, her legs swinging softly. Wanda set aside her magazine and her wine glass and leaned in.

"Are you bored?" she asked with a gentle tone.

Xamira let out a dramatic sigh. "Yes. Daddy said he would play with me today, but he said he was busy again."

Wanda clicked her tongue and nodded solemnly. "Your father has been very busy lately. With work... and with his new wife. He has to take care of both now."

Xamira’s small shoulders sagged. "I wish Daddy would take care of me, too. Like, he takes care of her."

Wanda’s eyes flickered, and a smirk nearly broke across her face, but she hid it just in time.

She saw it then—Xamira’s longing, her childish jealousy. It was a vulnerability she could easily exploit.

"Sweetheart," Wanda said softly, "your father’s new wife doesn’t deserve him."

Xamira turned her head, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Wanda pressed the knife a little deeper, her voice still smooth. "And remember what happened with the horse? You just wanted his attention. But instead, he made you apologize to her. Like she was the victim when she was actually the one behind everything."

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