The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 602: The Root of It

[Third Person].

Wanda flinched. Her ribs screamed with the movement, but Reginald noticed none of it. He was hell-bent on venting his anger.

And even if he noticed, nothing would have changed. His anger might have even tripled.

"Do you know what the elders are saying now?" he pressed. "That I miscalculated. That I allowed my personal grudges to blind me. That I dragged the council into disgrace."

His eyes darkened. "And Draven." The name came out like poison. "Draven will never forget this."

Wanda’s pride finally cracked. "Father, Meredith provoked me," she whispered harshly. "She toyed with me. She was pretending to be weak. She made me—"

"Yes," Reginald cut in coldly. "She made you angry." Then, he leaned closer. "And you allowed it."

Wanda looked away. The memory of Meredith deflecting, stepping aside, yielding ground deliberately, almost lazily, replayed in her mind. The humiliation of realizing too late that she had been manipulated.

Reginald straightened. "You lost not because she is stronger. You lost because she is smarter," he said icily.

The words stung worse than the injuries. And he turned toward the door.

For a moment, Wanda believed her father was finally leaving, and relief flashed through her. But then he paused.

"You will not be receiving further treatment tonight."

Wanda’s head snapped up. "Father—"

"You will endure the pain. Perhaps it will teach you caution," he said flatly.

Her breath hitched. "You are punishing me?"

"You actually have the guts to ask." His gaze hardened. "You caused me to be humiliated before Stormveil’s most powerful figures. You dragged the Fellowes name through the mud. And now you expect comfort?"

Wanda’s eyes burned with fury. "Father, how is any of this solely my fault? You promised me," she said through clenched teeth. "You said that bitch would never be Queen."

Reginald’s expression darkened further. "She would not have been if you had done your part."

A heavy, cruel silence descended in the room. Finally, he added coldly, "Recover. Learn. And do not underestimate her again."

He moved toward the door and paused briefly. "Because next time," he said without turning back, "I will not shield you. You will be as good as dead."

Then the door shut behind him.

Wanda lay there, every part of her body aching, but the pain in her ribs was nothing compared to the storm inside her chest.

Her father’s words still echoed in her ears—sharp, cutting, merciless. He had not come to comfort her. He had not asked if she was in pain. He had come to tear her apart.

Wanda’s jaw tightened.

Her father was the one who had insisted on the duel. He was the one who had stood in that council chamber and volunteered her name as if she were a pawn he could move across a board.

He had spoken with such confidence to the council, privately, as though Meredith Carter was nothing more than an inconvenience. Now he blamed her.

If he had not filled her head for years with the belief that the throne was rightfully hers... if he had not reminded her at every opportunity that she would have made a better Luna than anyone else... if he had not turned Draven’s rejection into a family vendetta, would she even be lying here like this?

Wanda’s nails pressed into her palms. Her father was the root of it all.

From childhood, he had fed her ambition, sharpened her pride, trained her to see the crown as something within reach. He had turned rivalry into obsession. And today, when that obsession exploded in his face, he chose to humiliate her instead of taking responsibility. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

A bitter heat spread through her chest. "I will never forgive you for this," she muttered under her breath.

Her anger had nothing to do with sending the healer away and leaving her to endure the pain as some twisted lesson.

Wanda’s ribs throbbed again, and she sucked in a slow breath. But even that pain was nothing compared to the humiliation.

She closed her eyes, and the scene from the council chamber returned. The circle of elders. The watching crowd. The way Meredith had stood there so composed, bowing politely before everything began.

Wanda had expected fear from her. She had expected hesitation. Instead, she had been met with calm. And during the duel...

Wanda’s stomach twisted instantly. Meredith had not attacked her immediately. She had defended. Evaded. Redirected. Every strike Wanda delivered had been met with a counter that was just strong enough to repel, never enough to dominate.

At first, Wanda had thought she was gaining ground. Now she understood the truth. She had been studied, measured, and deliberately provoked. Meredith had allowed her to grow frustrated, to let her temper rise, and to lose precision in her movements.

Wanda’s breathing became uneven. She had lost control. And when Meredith finally fought back, it was not chaotic. It was deliberate, precise and strategic. Like dismantling something piece by piece, in front of everyone.

Wanda swallowed hard. She had noticed the change in the elders’ faces. The doubt. Then the realization. Then approval for Meredith.

Stormveil would be celebrating tonight. They would speak of the white wolf. They would talk about how the "cursed" Luna had triumphed. They would praise her strength. They would praise her restraint. They would say she fought like a true Queen.

Wanda’s lips trembled with fury.

In one afternoon, Meredith had reclaimed her reputation, silenced her critics, and secured her crown. And she... she had become the stepping stone.

Wanda’s hatred deepened, thick and suffocating.

Draven’s face surfaced in her thoughts next. He had watched the entire thing without a look of concern. If anything, there had been satisfaction in his eyes.

The realization stung more than she expected.

For years, she had believed that somewhere, somehow, he had appreciated her presence, even if not as a mate. But today, he had stood there and let his future Queen tear her down without hesitation.

Wanda’s chest tightened.

Very well. If Draven wanted Meredith as his Queen so desperately, then he would learn what it meant to choose her over others.

Then, her gaze hardened. "I hope your reign rots from the inside," she whispered.

If she could not sit beside him on that throne, then she would ensure that the throne itself never felt secure.

She would wait and observe. When the opportunity arose, she would strategically strike where it hurt most, just as Meredith had done to her.

Wanda’s resentment toward her father fused with her hatred toward Meredith and Draven, forming something far more dangerous than wounded pride. Resolve.

She would never allow herself to be used again. And she would never underestimate Meredith Carter again.