The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 80: When Are You Leaving?

~**(Third Person)**~

Dinner passed by in a blur for Meredith. She was so exhausted that her body practically begged her for a bed hug.

Ultimately, she left immediately after finishing the pork cutlet with mayo dipping sauce on her plate.

After dinner, Draven bent low and pressed a kiss to Xamira’s forehead.

"Good night, pumpkin," he whispered against her hair.

Xamira sighed, long and tired. "Good night, Daddy."

Draven didn’t notice the disappointment in her tone. Or maybe he did, but he still turned and left without looking back because he was exhausted.

He had shown up earlier for their promised playtime, but not even ten minutes had passed before his phone rang, and he had to leave.

Again.

That was why Xamira’s little heart felt heavy when she saw Meredith earlier, why her voice had sounded colder than usual. And the reason she had asked that question.

Wanda quietly took her hand, her touch light but certain.

"Let’s go to your room, sweetheart," she said softly, almost sweetly.

Xamira nodded.

They walked together toward Xamira’s pink-themed bedroom. The hallway glowed with low lights. It felt warmer in this wing of the mansion. Familiar. Safer.

At the door, Wanda turned to Dorothy.

"You can go now. I will tuck her in."

Dorothy hesitated for a heartbeat, then bowed slightly. "Good night, Miss Fellowes. Good night, Xamira."

" Good night," the little girl murmured.

When the door clicked shut, Wanda led her to the plush bed, helping her crawl under the pastel pink blanket. She fluffed the pillows and pulled the blanket gently to her shoulders.

"I told her," Xamira said suddenly.

"Huh?" Wanda paused. "Told who?"

"Daddy’s wife," the girl replied, her tone quiet. "I asked her when she would leave when I ran into her."

Wanda blinked once, then leaned in with wide eyes, her expression exaggerated. "You did?"

Xamira gave a small nod, her eyes searching Wanda’s face. "Was that wrong?"

"Oh, no," Wanda said quickly, touching her hand and smiling. "That was very brave of you. You did well."

The girl exhaled slowly, relieved.

"So, what did she say?" Wanda asked, tucking in the edges of the blanket. She was so happy to learn about Xamira’s confidence because she didn’t think the little child would throw that question at Meredith.

And now, she was curious about the latter’s response.

"She said... when Daddy lets her go."

Wanda scoffed lightly, brushing a stray curl from Xamira’s cheek. "She lied."

Xamira blinked. "She lied?"

"Of course she did," Wanda said gently. "She can leave whenever she wants to. But she doesn’t want to. So now she is making excuses using your Daddy’s name. She just wants to live here."

Xamira looked away, her lips twitching downward. Then, barely above a whisper, she muttered,

"Then I will make her go away... like Larissa did."

Wanda’s smile grew. She reached over and gently stroked the girl’s hair.

"That’s my clever girl."

Xamira didn’t smile back. She inquired, "But how do I do that?"

"You have to think like Larissa did," Wanda offered, refusing to give her ideas in case of tomorrow.

Xamira simply turned on her side and pulled the blanket to her chin.

"Good night, sweetheart," Wanda murmured.

"Good night..." the reply came, soft and half-hearted.

Wanda stood and walked to the wall. She pressed a button by the door, and the overhead lights clicked off, plunging the room into darkness, save for the warm glow from the dimmed bedside lamp.

With one last look over her shoulder, Wanda left the room quietly, her heels silent against the thick carpet.

The door shut with a soft click.

And the little girl stared at the wall, eyes open, still thinking.

---

Wanda stepped into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click.

She hadn’t even made it three steps toward her dresser when her phone buzzed violently inside her portable phone purse around her wrist.

The name that flashed across the screen made her stomach twist.

Father.

She hesitated, fingers hovering above the phone, dread curling like smoke through her chest. She knew better than to ignore him.

Reginald Fellowes didn’t call to exchange pleasantries—only to deliver commands and punishments.

With a deep breath, she pressed the green icon and raised the phone to her ear.

"Father," she greeted with all the respect her voice could carry. "Good evening—"

"Spare me," his cold voice cut through. "Have you made progress with the girl?"

Her spine straightened instinctively.

"Have you come up with a plan, Wanda?"

The pause that followed was too long. She could feel her throat close up, unsure how to answer.

Then the bark came—sharp, loud, and full of bite. "Speak, girl!"

Wanda jumped slightly. "I—I’m still working out a plan, sir," she said quickly.

"Still?" Reginald’s voice dropped into a venomous sneer. "You’ve been living under Draven’s roof like a spoiled kitten, and you still haven’t done the one thing I sent you there to do?"

"I’m trying. But things are more complicated than I expected," she said, her voice quieter now. "And I’ve been busy with the murder case as well."

"Complicated," he repeated with disgust. "You’ve always been better with cleaning up corpses than making real moves. Maybe that’s all you are good for."

Wanda winced. Although the time frame her father had given her was still far ahead, she knew better than to argue.

"And let me make something very clear," Reginald continued, his voice now eerily calm. "You will report every step you take from now on. Every plan. Every whisper. Do not wait for me to call you again. I want your updates before I breathe another word to you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, father," Wanda answered quickly, her voice barely audible.

Then the line went dead the next second.

Wanda exhaled shakily and lowered the phone from her ear. Her fingers trembled slightly as she set it down on the edge of her vanity.

She crossed the room in slow, wooden steps and dropped onto the edge of her bed. Her hands were buried into the hem of her dress, tugging at the fabric to still her nerves.

Then, under her breath, she muttered to herself, "At this rate, Father will kill me before I get rid of Meredith."