The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-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 exhaled like the weight of the truth was too heavy. "Ever since she came into his life, he’s changed. He used to spend so much time with you. But now... he is always with her, isn’t he?"

Xamira looked down at her small hands. "Yes..."

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."

Xamira’s eyes widened. "Really? She was the cause?"

Wanda didn’t blink. "Of course. If she didn’t appear in our lives, would you have been fighting to get your father’s attention? But... never mind that. Forget I said anything."

But Xamira didn’t forget. Her gaze turned inward, her expression shifting—not to anger, but to deep thought. Wanda didn’t push further. She didn’t need to anymore.

She had successfully pushed her narrative into the little girl’s head. Now, she would just wait and watch for the magic to happen, only giving a little push when necessary.

---

Evening draped softly over the estate, casting a warm amber hue across Meredith’s sitting room.

The television hummed in the background—some glitzy fashion show Kira had turned on to entertain her mistress.

Models with impossible figures strode across a sleek runway, clothed in bizarre, over-layered outfits that looked more like pieces of abstract art than actual clothing.

Meredith sighed loudly from where she was sprawled across the couch, arms folded, chin slightly tilted up. "I don’t understand this," she muttered. "Are they competing for who looks the most ridiculous?"

Kira stifled a laugh. "It’s fashion, my lady. These are the latest trends in Duskmoor."

"They look like badly wrapped gifts."

Deidra chuckled from her spot on the floor where she was organizing some hair accessories. "Fashion is subjective, my lady. What you see as odd, the elite here see as expression."

Meredith rolled her eyes. "I’d rather express myself in comfortable clothes than wear a birdcage on my head."

Kira leaned in a little, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Miss Fellowes actually attends these fashion shows sometimes. Her wardrobe is full of designer pieces she bought straight off the runway."

Meredith’s brow lifted. "Isn’t that expensive?" Even though she has lived all her life in Stormveil not to see anything like a fashion runway show, she could guess buying clothes off it would be pricy.

"Very," Deidra confirmed with a knowing nod. "But she has the money."

"Seems like she’s rich," Meredith scoffed, leaning deeper into the couch with the air of someone too unbothered to care.

"She works," Kira said with a shrug, "but the Alpha pays her a monthly wage, too. For her services here."

Another scoff escaped Meredith. "Of course he does."

There was a short silence before Kira chimed in again, her eyes glinting with mischief. "But those clothes would actually look really good on you, my lady. The cuts, the colours—much better than how they sit on those tall sticks."

"I’m not interested," Meredith said flatly, waving a hand.

"You will miss out on the fun of shopping, my lady" Deidra added quickly, "and Miss Fellowes will be the only one enjoying the Alpha’s money while you, his wife, don’t get a single dime."

That got her attention.

Meredith’s back straightened, her eyes sharpening with curiosity. "Shopping?"

Kira and Deidra exchanged an excited glance.

"Yes, my lady. We can go to the shopping mall anytime you want," Kira said, smiling. "There’s one near the city centre. Big, fancy with lots of options."

Meredith was almost tempted to jump up. Almost.

But then she paused. Her expression softened slightly as her gaze drifted toward the corner, where Azul, Cora, and Arya were folding clean towels together.

"I will wait," Meredith said thoughtfully. "Let’s go after Azul, Cora, and Arya get their Duskmoor ID cards. I want all of you with me."

Cora looked up, pleasantly stunned. "My lady... thank you."

Arya smiled shyly beside her. "Thank you, my lady."

Azul, though still quiet, looked genuinely moved by her lady’s thoughtfulness.

Meredith gave a nonchalant shrug and leaned back again. "Well, you’ll need to be there anyway. Someone has to stop me from buying anything hideous."