The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 572

Chapter 572: Smarter

[Meredith].

"Why aren’t you eating?" I asked aloud, my tone light, unconcerned and perfectly audible.

She released a slow, weary sigh. "How can a mother eat when her child is missing?"

"Oh," I murmured, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Eat first."

She shook her head faintly. "You eat it."

"I’ve already had breakfast," I replied easily.

Rosalie said nothing after that.

I glanced at the tray again. The steam had begun to fade. Then my gaze shifted just briefly to the bedroom door, still ajar.

Then I smiled. "I will just have a bite," I said casually.

Next, I picked up the spoon and scooped a small portion of the sweet potato. The reaction was immediate.

"No—!"

The caregiver rushed out of the bedroom, her face pale, eyes wide with panic. "Luna, please—don’t eat that."

I didn’t lower the spoon. Instead, I turned my head slightly and looked at her. "Why?"

She froze, her gaze darting to Rosalie.

Rosalie, in turn, was staring at her hard, silent, and unblinking.

The caregiver swallowed. "T-the food was prepared specifically for Madame," she said hurriedly. "It wouldn’t be appropriate—"

"Appropriate?" I echoed softly. The spoon remained suspended in the air.

I noted everything now—the tightness in her shoulders, the way her fingers trembled at her sides, the unspoken plea in her eyes that had nothing to do with etiquette.

This wasn’t actually a concern; it was more like fear. And suddenly, the meal between us felt less like breakfast and more like evidence.

The caregiver swallowed, then lowered her voice. "Forgive me, Luna... but please, give me a moment."

I finally set the spoon down. Then, I rose to my feet and followed her into the bedroom without a word. The moment the door was between us, she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a hurried whisper.

"The Madame doesn’t like taking her drugs," she said. "She refuses them outright. So... we found a way to mix them into her food."

Understanding settled over me like a cold sheet. ’That was why she hadn’t wanted to speak openly. That was why the panic.’

I gave a short nod and stepped back into the living space.

Rosalie was still sitting exactly where I had left her—upright, obedient, hands folded in her lap. But her eyes followed me with quiet reluctance, her body language making it painfully clear that she had no desire to eat.

I walked back to the table. Then, deliberately, I picked up the spoon again. The caregiver stiffened, while Rosalie’s eyes widened.

I took a bite. For a fraction of a second, the room went utterly still.

I chewed slowly and carefully, letting the flavours unfold on my tongue. Sweet potato. Oil. Salt. And beneath it all, something faintly bitter, cleverly masked.

I chewed again, slower this time. There were supplements in there—harmless ones. Tonics meant to strengthen the body, fortify the blood. Those were fine. Sensible, even.

But two of the herbs didn’t belong. They were subtle, almost clever. I didn’t recognize them immediately—but I recognized their intent.

Sedatives. Memory-dulling agents.

Though they were not strong enough to knock someone unconscious, they were just enough to soften the mind, blur the edges, and make recollection unreliable. That was the problem.

I swallowed. Then, as naturally as breathing, I reached for the glass of water and took a sip and tasted citrus flavour, which was another mask.

Finally, I looked up at Rosalie and smiled. "You should eat," I told her gently. "I will help you find your daughter. I promise. And I will visit you again."

Halfway down, a quiet scoff escaped my lips before I could stop it. ’So that’s how it is.’

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