The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 490

Chapter 490: Randall’s Open Hostility

[Meredith].

The next morning, I woke to a pale morning light slipping through the curtains.

After freshening up, I told Draven I was going to pick up Xamira for breakfast, and his expression softened immediately.

"Go," he said with a small smile. "She will like that."

I smiled back and left before he could say anything else.

Xamira’s bedroom smelled faintly of lavender. Her nanny was already there, helping her button her dress. Xamira turned when she saw me, her face lighting up.

"My lady!"

She hopped off the stool and ran straight to me, arms wrapping around my waist. I laughed softly and bent to her height.

"Good morning, little sun," I said.

Her nanny bowed politely. "Good morning, Luna."

I nodded in greeting, then smoothed Xamira’s hair. "Did you sleep well?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "I dreamed of green horses."

"Green?" I teased. "That sounds serious."

She giggled and slipped her hand into mine as if it belonged there. I signalled her nanny, then led Xamira out.

The walk to the dining room was unhurried. Xamira chatted about nothing and everything, her steps light, her grip warm.

Dennis, Jeffery, Oscar, and Draven were already seated when we arrived. The servants bowed as soon as I walked in.

"Good morning, Luna."

Dennis and the others remained sitting and nodded respectfully to acknowledge my presence, knowing that I didn’t want them standing.

Then, Xamira beamed. "Good morning!"

She greeted everyone like royalty herself.

I took my seat beside Draven. Xamira climbed onto the chair at my right, her feet swinging as a servant adjusted her cushion.

For a brief moment, everything felt calm. Then the doors opened, and Randall entered.

Everyone stood to greet him, and that was when I noticed the frown on his face wasn’t new. But it wasn’t aimed at Draven or me.

That cold and unmistakable gaze was fixed on Xamira.

His gaze didn’t flicker or even try to soften. It lingered with open disdain, as though her presence offended him on a fundamental level.

Xamira shrank closer to me instinctively. I felt a quiet, sharp certainty settling in my chest.

Randall didn’t just dislike her. He abhorred her.

Everyone settled back into their seats. The silence was unnaturally thick, and Randall’s gaze remained fixed on Xamira, sharp and openly hostile. Then he turned to Draven.

"Why did you bring this thing to the table?"

The word struck like a slap.

Xamira stiffened beside me, her small fingers tightening around my sleeve.

On the other hand, Draven straightened in his chair. His voice remained calm, but I could feel the steel beneath it.

"She is my daughter," he said. "And she bears the Oatrun surname."

Randall let out a short, cold laugh. "The Oatrun name is not given to random beings."

My jaw clenched at that statement. But Draven did not raise his voice. This was his father, he had a different way of dealing with him.

"You will mind how you speak," he said evenly. "Especially about my child."

I turned fully toward Xamira.

"It’s alright," I said softly, lowering my voice the way one does around a skittish animal or a wounded child. "You’re safe."

She didn’t look up. Her shoulders were stiff, her gaze fixed on the empty doorway Randall had disappeared through.

Just then, Draven’s chair scraped back slightly.

"I will have breakfast moved to the smaller dining room," he said calmly, already signaling a servant. "Clear this table."

"No," I said quietly.

Draven looked at me.

I shook my head once. "Let her finish eating. Don’t make it feel like she did something wrong."

His jaw tightened, but he nodded.

So, I slid my chair closer to Xamira and wrapped an arm around her small frame, pulling her gently against my side. She leaned into me instantly, her face pressing into my ribs.

I could feel her heart racing.

"You didn’t do anything wrong," I murmured into her hair. "Not even a little."

Her voice came out small. "He... he doesn’t like me."

My chest tightened.

"I know," I said honestly. "But that has nothing to do with you."

She sniffed. "Is it because I’m not like you?"

I stilled for a moment, then tilted her chin up carefully so she had to look at me. Her green eyes were glossy but brave—too brave for a child her age.