The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 571

Chapter 571: Rosalie Edward

[Meredith].

Mrs. Oatrun answered without hesitation. "My name is Rosalie Edward."

My breath caught in my throat.

"I am a vampire," she continued calmly, as though stating the weather. "But I am not a pure old blood."

For a heartbeat, the room felt too small. ’A vampire.’ I forced myself not to react, not to betray the storm that erupted in my chest.

This was the first time I had ever heard her real name spoken aloud. The first time she had acknowledged her identity so plainly—without anger, without accusation, without madness clouding her words.

And the way she said it so simply sent a chill down my spine.

’Not a pure old blood. Was she mixed, then?’

My mind raced ahead of my restraint, connecting threads I had been afraid to touch before.

If Rosalie Edward was a vampire... If she was not pure-blooded... Then what else was she?

And what, exactly, did that make Draven?

I kept my voice steady, though my pulse thundered in my ears. "What do you mean... not a pure old blood?"

She answered my question without hesitation, as though the knowledge had never been lost, only waiting to be asked for.

"It’s nothing unusual," Rosalie said calmly. "Not anymore. The bloodlines were altered long ago."

I kept my face still, my pulse steady.

"Originally, there were only pure-blood vampires," she continued. "But power attracts fear. And fear breeds extinction. So the family trees were... adjusted."

Her lips curved into something that might have been a smile, but lacked warmth. "Many of them were forced to breed outside our kind. It was the only way to survive."

Understanding settled into me slowly. So, when she said she was not of pure old blood, she didn’t mean weakness. She meant history.

"So, I don’t know what my direct ancestor bred with," Rosalie added lightly, as if it didn’t matter. "It stopped being important centuries ago."

I agreed silently. Whatever she was mixed with wasn’t the answer I needed right now.

"What I want to know," I said gently, "is how you got here."

Her expression changed to one of confusion. She glanced around the room, her gaze skimming the walls, the iron door, the low ceiling, as though truly seeing the place for the first time.

"I woke up here," she said softly. "That’s all I remember."

My brow furrowed.

"When I asked the woman from earlier," she went on, referring to the caregiver, "she told me people found me outside the house and brought me in."

A chill ran down my spine.

That was a lie. And not a protective one. It was deliberate and calculated.

I filed it away carefully, keeping my tone neutral. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Her answer came instantly. "I am looking for my daughter."

The words landed hard.

"Her name is Estella," Rosalie said. "We were together. And then... I woke up here."

I repeated the name quietly. "Estella." Something clicked into place as she immediately learned that person’s name.

Though it was a name never spoken aloud, a subject always avoided. This had to be her.

’Mate?’

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