The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 570: Doesn’t Remember

[Meredith].

Some minutes later, I stood before the iron door underground.

It loomed heavy and unwelcoming, its surface cold even before my knuckles touched it. I knocked twice, evenly, then waited.

After a brief pause, the door creaked open. The caregiver greeted me with a respectful bow and stepped aside without question. Draven must have informed her of my visit in advance.

I offered a brief nod and entered the small living space, the air noticeably cooler and faintly damp compared to the upper levels of the estate.

I took a seat on the sofa as the door was locked behind me.

"Mrs. Oatrun has just finished bathing," the caregiver said, turning to face me. "She is about to have breakfast."

I glanced around, my eyes flicking instinctively to the small clock mounted on the wall. "It seems she woke up a bit late today," I observed mildly.

The woman hesitated, then nodded. "She was restless last night. She didn’t sleep until very late."

"I see." My gaze returned to the clock. It was already past nine. "Has her food arrived?"

"It will be sent shortly," the caregiver replied.

For someone unwell—someone supposedly fragile—that was far too late to have food.

I folded my hands in my lap. "She needs to eat on time. Especially in her condition."

The caregiver shifted uneasily.

"How about this," I continued smoothly, not giving her time to object. "Go and fetch her breakfast. But before then, inform her that I’m here to visit. I will stay with her until you return."

Her refusal was immediate. "I’m not allowed to leave Mrs. Oatrun’s side."

I looked at her then—really looked. Her posture was rigid, her tone rehearsed. Too rehearsed. There was more beneath that refusal than mere devotion.

Whether it was fear, instruction, or something she was guarding, I couldn’t yet tell, even through her thoughts.

"I will take responsibility if anything happens," I said calmly. "You have my word."

She hesitated again, visibly torn. In the end, she turned away and disappeared into the bedroom. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

A few minutes later, she returned, guiding Mrs. Oatrun gently by the arm.

Draven’s mother still looked as young as ever—unnaturally so. Her features were elegant, untouched by time in ways that unsettled me more now than they ever had before. But her complexion was paler than I remembered, almost translucent.

Too little sunlight, I thought immediately.

Living underground like this couldn’t be helping her condition—whatever that condition truly was.

I stood up at once. "Good morning, Mrs. Oatrun," I greeted, bowing respectfully and addressing her properly.

Her eyes slid over me without recognition.

That didn’t surprise me. Already, I’ve been mentally prepared for it.

The caregiver helped her onto the sofa opposite mine, then turned to me with a strained smile.

"Please... be careful," she said lightly, as though reminding me not to spill tea rather than warning me about a woman capable of violence.

Then she left, locking the door behind her. The sound echoed sharply in the confined space.

Now, only the two of us remained. So, I sat back down slowly, my posture relaxed, my expression open.

The first thing I noticed was how calm she was.

Mrs. Oatrun sat opposite me with her back straight and her hands neatly folded in her lap, her gaze unfocused but not wild.

There was no tension in her shoulders, no restless twitching, and no sharp intake of breath that usually preceded her outbursts. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was simply resting.

That alone unsettled me.

I studied her quietly for a moment before speaking. "Do you remember me?"

Her eyes shifted, slowly finding my face. She tilted her head, studying me in return, as though I were a painting she had seen long ago but couldn’t quite place.

"You look... familiar," she said after a pause.

I nodded, keeping my tone gentle. "I’m Meredith. Draven’s mate."

The words seemed to take a moment to sink in. Her brow furrowed slightly, a faint crease forming between her eyes.

"Draven’s..." She trailed off, then looked at me again. "Have you visited me before?"

Something in my chest tightened. "Yes," I answered. "I have."

As she watched me, I reached out with my senses, carefully—testing, listening.

Her thoughts were there, but they were scattered. Disjointed. Like pages torn from a book and shuffled back in the wrong order.

Images surfaced without context, names without faces, emotions without cause. But beneath that chaos, I felt something else.

Resistance. Not the natural fog of illness or age—but something layered. Pressed down. Altered.

This memory loss... I wasn’t convinced it was natural.

Though I kept my expression neutral and continued. "The last time I was here, your two sons were with me. You told me to visit you often."

Her reaction was immediate. "My sons?" she asked, her eyes sharpening just a fraction. "What are their names?"

For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. "You don’t remember them?" I asked carefully.

She shook her head. "I can’t remember anything."

I swallowed my disappointment. Part of me had hoped foolishly that today would be easier, that answers would spill out effortlessly, as though all I had to do was ask the right question.

Instead, it felt as though I was standing before a door that had been deliberately locked from the inside.

’At least she wasn’t violent today,’ I told myself. ’At least she was calm.’

But calm could be just as dangerous.

I sat there in silence for a few seconds, thinking hard. I hadn’t come all this way to leave empty-handed. Not today. Not when every instinct in me screamed that the truth was right in front of me, buried just beneath the surface.

Slowly, I reached into my small bag, which I had brought with me. I took out my phone, turned on the recorder, and placed it discreetly beside me on the sofa.

Then I looked back at her. "Since you don’t remember what I just mentioned," I said evenly, "can you tell me what you do remember?"

Her eyes never left my face.

"Who are you?" I asked. "What is your name? Where are you from?"