The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 590: He Just Exposed Himself

[Third Person].

Breakfast the next day unfolded under a strained calm.

Everyone was already seated when the servants finished setting the table. Cutlery clinked softly, the air filled with the muted sounds of eating until Randall lifted his gaze to Meredith.

"I’ve heard," he said evenly, "that you’ve been visiting my wife these past few days." Then, with a measured nod, he added, "That is commendable of you."

Meredith felt a ripple of unease crawl up her spine. The compliment sat wrong, heavy with something she couldn’t quite name. Still, she smiled politely and inclined her head.

"Thank you, father."

Before the moment could settle, Draven set his cutlery down.

"Father, Mother has been underground for years," he said, his voice calm but firm. "It’s time she comes up. She needs fresh air and sunlight."

The temperature at the table shifted instantly.

Randall’s eyes sharpened. "And can you bear the consequences?" he asked coldly. "If she loses control? If she causes havoc and it leaks beyond these walls?"

He leaned back slightly, as if delivering a final verdict. "Your coronation is approaching. I will not have it endangered by reckless sentiment."

Draven didn’t flinch. "No rumours will fly," he replied. "And my coronation will not be ruined, no matter what Mother does. Her actions don’t have much weight on me."

Randall’s jaw tightened. "I will not allow you to ruin my reputation so carelessly."

Draven almost scoffed. His gaze locked onto his father’s.

"I thought Mother chose to live underground on her own," he said quietly. "Why are you speaking as if you locked her there?"

Under the table, Meredith’s hand slid into Draven’s and tightened it in warning, as if to say he shouldn’t continue.

Thankfully, Draven inhaled slowly and held himself back.

Silence slammed down on the table. The servants, sensing the tension, withdrew one by one.

Dennis looked between his brother and father, unease written plainly on his face. Oscar and Jeffery kept their eyes lowered, neither eating nor speaking, as though the moment might pass if they didn’t acknowledge it.

Then Draven spoke again. "These days," he said evenly, "Mother doesn’t remember anyone. Anything except Estella."

Randall’s control snapped. "Do not speak that name here."

"You should prepare to hear it often," Draven replied immediately.

Randall stared at him, livid.

Draven continued, his tone suddenly calm, almost measured. "I’ve learned you’re keeping Mother under constant watch. Let her take evening strolls with my wife. You can keep your guards at a distance if that eases your mind."

Randall’s eyes narrowed. "And what exactly are you implying?"

Draven shrugged slightly. "Nothing more than what I said."

The tension spiked again, sharp enough to cut Then Dennis pushed his chair back just enough to be noticed.

"Brother," he said first, turning to Draven, "given Mother’s history of violence and her... condition, I don’t think letting her roam freely without precautions is wise."

Then he turned to Randall. "But Father, keeping her confined for years without sunlight isn’t healthy either. No matter how she tends to explode without reason, this isn’t a solution."

Randall looked at both of his sons for a long, unreadable moment. Then he stood.

"I will not discuss this further," he said curtly. As he turned to leave, he paused just long enough to add, "Do not be late for the meeting this afternoon, Draven."

And with that, he walked out of the dining hall.

No one resumed eating after that because the next second, Draven’s chair scraped softly against the floor as he stood.

"He just exposed himself," he said aloud, his voice carrying across the dining hall.

Meredith nodded once in agreement, her expression controlled even though her pulse had quickened.

Oscar finally broke the silence. "Draven," he said carefully, "this is not the time to start a war with your father."

Draven turned to him slowly. His eyes were cold, stripped of their usual restraint.

"Oscar," he said, "whenever you get tired of working for me, find your replacement."

The words landed hard, and the room went utterly still.

Even the air felt tense. Oscar’s fingers tightened slightly around his cutlery before he forced himself to relax them. There was a faint sting in his chest, but he didn’t argue. He only lowered his gaze, understanding that this anger wasn’t truly meant for him.

But Draven wasn’t even done venting.

His sharp gaze briefly shifted toward Jeffery. "I dislike it when people withhold important information from me," he said flatly. "No matter who they are. Or what reason they think justifies it."

Jeffery didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink. Whether he knew what Draven was talking about, it remained hidden in his heart.

Then Draven looked at Dennis.

Dennis frowned, confusion clear on his face. "What—"

"There are some hard truths you need to hear," Draven interrupted. "Meet me at the terrace after dinner."

Dennis nodded slowly, unease settling in his gut.

Without another word, Draven turned and walked out of the dining hall.

Meredith closed her eyes briefly. She hadn’t expected him to lash out like that—not at Oscar, not at Jeffery. Hurt or not, this wasn’t the way.

She stood, smoothing her dress, and turned to Oscar. "I’m sorry," she said quietly. "He didn’t mean to wound you. He’s... in a very dark place right now, especially where his father is concerned."

Oscar studied her for a moment, then nodded. "I know," he replied simply. "I will give him space."

Meredith didn’t linger. She left the dining hall quickly, catching up to Draven just as he stepped outside into the open grounds.

"Draven," she called softly.

He stopped but didn’t turn around.

"I understand how much your father has hurt you," she said as she reached him, her voice calm but firm. "But you can’t speak to the people who stand by you like that. Not Oscar. Not Jeffery."

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he exhaled slowly, the rigid tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction.

"I know," he admitted. "I just—" He clenched his jaw. "My father needs to be dealt with."

Meredith stepped closer. "And he will be," she said. "But not like this. Your priority is the throne. Ascend first. Secure your power. Then deal with him properly."

Draven finally turned to look at her. After a long pause, he nodded. "You’re right."

The fury in his eyes hadn’t vanished, but it had steadied, sharpened into something far more dangerous.