The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 50: Wanda Reports Back to Her Father

(Third Person POV).

After breakfast ended, Wanda excused herself with a soft smile, rising gracefully from the table and taking measured steps toward the grand staircase.

The second floor was quiet, almost heavy with the slow rise of morning light bleeding through the tall windows.

She didn’t waste time. As soon as she reached her bedroom door, she slipped inside and shut it firmly behind her.

The click of the lock sounded loud in the stillness.

Wanda strode across the polished floor, her fingers already moving quickly to unlock her phone. She scrolled to a familiar number and pressed ’Call.’

She didn’t have to wait long. After three short rings, the line connected.

"Good morning, father," Wanda said sweetly, her lips curled in a confident smile.

"What is good about this morning?" came the sharp, impatient growl from the other end.

Wanda chuckled under her breath. "Everything, father. Everything." ’You just need to be a little bit patient.’

There was a beat of silence, then Reginald’s tone shifted, cautious but curious.

"It seems you have good news for me."

"Of course, father," Wanda said brightly, pacing slowly across her room. Her heels clicked softly on the marble tiles. "I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t to make you proud."

A low grunt answered her. "Out with it, then. Let’s see if you are finally capable of that."

Still smiling, Wanda leaned against the armrest of one of her chairs, her voice dropping into a low, excited whisper.

"I have two pieces of good news. First— I finally found out why Draven married Meredith."

Another pause stretched across the line.

Reginald’s voice sharpened. "Woman, stop dragging it out and tell me."

"Forgive me, father," Wanda said quickly, straightening her back. "Last night, I overheard Draven speaking with Dennis. He said he married Meredith to stop the Alphas and Pack leaders from fighting over whose daughter would become Queen. Meredith was just a pawn to prevent an internal war."

There was another silence. But this time, Wanda could almost hear the wheels turning in her father’s mind.

Finally, Reginald spoke, his voice dripping with contempt.

"So... Draven married that useless woman because he is using her as a pawn?"

"Yes, father," Wanda said eagerly, the excitement returning to her voice. "It turns out we have nothing to be worried about."

Last night, Wanda lingered outside Draven’s office after leaving, curious to know what the brothers would talk about next. Her ear pressed lightly to the heavy wood, straining to catch their conversation.

It had been a risk. But the reward was worth it.

Reginald’s furious snarl crackled through the phone. "Who told you we have nothing to worry about?"

Wanda froze. Her heart skipped a beat.

"But... but father—" she stammered. "Meredith is dispensable. The other leaders— they will get rid of her soon. We don’t even need to lift a finger."

"And how long will that take?" Reginald barked. "Weeks? Months? Years? By the time they act, Draven could have made her permanent!"

Wanda swallowed hard, panic prickling at the back of her neck. "What should we do?" she asked quietly, almost childlike.

Reginald didn’t miss a beat. His words landed like a hammer.

"By whatever means necessary, get rid of that woman immediately. And get Draven to marry you. You have three months."

And then, before Wanda could utter a word of protest, the line went dead.

She stood there, phone still pressed to her ear, blinking at the screen in disbelief.

Slowly, she lowered her hand and stared blankly at the floor.

"Father is asking me to kill Meredith..." she muttered under her breath, almost in shock.

She pushed away from the armrest and began pacing across the room, the soft tapping of her phone against her palm the only sound.

The task was challenging but not impossible.

Already, dark and desperate plans were beginning to swirl through her mind.

---

~Stormveil~

The grand marble hall of the Council of elders echoed with the soft shuffle of robes and the deep murmurs of age-old voices.

Today’s emergency meeting was summoned to discuss the urgent matter of fortifying the borders and finally beginning the construction of the Great Wall.

After the discussions about funding, manpower, and timelines were settled with nods and stiff agreements, the floor was opened to other matters.

That was when Reginald Fellowes rose from his seat.

He cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to himself. His face was composed, but a spark was in his eyes—a carefully hidden flame.

"If I may, before we adjourn," he said smoothly, "there is a matter of great importance we seem to be ignoring."

The elders exchanged quiet glances.

Reginald continued, "It concerns our future king... Alpha Draven Oatrun."

Then he paused, gauging the room, before pressing on.

"Are we all going to simply stand by and watch him crown that wolfless nobody as our queen when he ascends the throne?"

A heavy silence fell over the hall.

An elder with a thick white beard stroked his chin and replied calmly, "We cannot and have never forced a king to marry someone against his wishes. That has been our way for generations."

Another elder, sharper and less forgiving, spoke up next.

"That was because none of our kings ever presented us with a cursed woman before."

Soft murmurs rippled through the chamber.

Some nodded grimly, their lips pressing into thin lines. Others whispered under their breaths, scandalized yet cautious.

Reginald pressed forward, emboldened by their reactions.

But just as quickly, another voice cut through the murmur.

"Or is your concern personal, Reginald?" the voice asked dryly from across the table. "Are you worried because the Alpha did not choose your daughter?"

A ripple of quiet laughter and a few smirks followed the question.

Reginald’s fingers tightened into a fist at his side. His teeth clenched behind his composed smile. But he knew better than to lash out openly at an elder. That would cost him more than a bruised ego.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his voice even.

"My daughter is irrelevant to this conversation," he said coldly. "My concern is for the dignity of our throne, bloodline, and people."

Another elder snorted under his breath, unconvinced. The room buzzed with whispers, low and venomous.

Reginald could feel it. The slap to his pride. The veiled mockery. But he kept his posture perfect, his face unyielding.

Before the tension could boil over, Elder Magnus—the oldest among them—raised his hand for silence.

"Enough," Magnus said with the weight of a hammer. His voice, though frail, carried authority that none dared challenge.

"The Alpha’s marriage will be a topic for another day, not today. There are far more urgent matters to address—like the rising tensions between our kind and the humans. Focus, gentlemen."

Reginald sat down slowly, his hands curling around the arms of his chair to keep them from trembling in anger.

The topic shifted swiftly to the fragile state of human-werewolf relations, leaving Reginald’s grievance to smoulder in the shadows of the room.

But he wasn’t done.

Not yet.