The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 532

Chapter 532: More Support

[Meredith].

That same evening, Draven had a meeting arranged for me.

One of the private sitting areas was prepared—quiet, enclosed, away from the main corridors of the estate.

The windows were open just enough to let the evening breeze carry in the scent of pine and stone, and the lamps had been lit low, casting a calm, focused glow over the room.

Draven escorted me there himself, his hand resting lightly at the small of my back before he stepped away once Madame Beatrice arrived.

She wasn’t alone. With her was another woman—older than me, but younger than Beatrice, with sharp eyes and an air of quiet efficiency.

She introduced herself simply and respectfully, already carrying parchment, ink, and a thin ledger tucked beneath her arm.

Once we were seated, Draven excused himself without lingering, because this whole event, though suggested by him, was mine.

I took a breath before speaking, grounding myself. "I don’t want this to be an event that looks generous," I said honestly, folding my hands together. "I want it to be useful."

Madame Beatrice’s lips curved into something approving, not indulgent. "Then tell us your intention, my lady," she said. "We will build from there."

So I did.

I explained that I wanted the gathering to focus on women and children—not as an act of charity, but as connection. A place where they could feel seen, heard, and supported.

Then I reminded them of my background in Moonstone, herbs and healing, and the knowledge passed down through hands rather than books.

"I want them to leave with something practical," I said. "Something they can use. Something that stays."

The other woman nodded and immediately began writing. Batch by batch, we began to shape it.

First came structure.

We agreed the event should be divided into segments—arrival and settling, open discussion, practical demonstrations, and then distribution of food and supplies. Nothing rushed. Nothing overwhelming.

Then came location.

"I want it here," I said without hesitation. "At the Oatrun Estate."

Madame Beatrice studied me for a moment, then inclined her head. "That will carry weight," she said. "I will seek Elder Randall’s permission."

I nodded. I expected nothing less.

Next came organization.

I requested that five of my maidservants head each department, and I said their names aloud one by one as the other woman wrote them down carefully.

Azul — overall coordination and communication.

Kira — food preparation and distribution.

Deidra — seating, children, and guest comfort.

Coral — herbs, remedies, and health materials.

Arya — inventory and supplies.

"They will report directly to me," I added. "I want clear channels."

Madame Beatrice smiled faintly. "You already think like a ruler."

I didn’t respond to that. I was too focused on the planning to consider anything contrary to it.

Then came lists. Actual lists.

One for servants assisting in preparation. One for food supplies—grains, preserved meats, fruits, and teas. And one specifically for herbs and healthcare items.

I dictated that list slowly, and carefully.

Dried moonleaf.

Ground frostroot.

Soothing bark strips.

Clean linen wraps.

Small vials of antiseptic tinctures.

As I spoke, it settled inside me that this wasn’t performance, but purpose.

By the time the candles had burned lower, the table was scattered with parchment—neat columns, categorized plans, responsibilities assigned with intention rather than haste.

Finally, Madame Beatrice closed her ledger.

"Once Elder Randall gives approval," she said, "you may fix the date and begin sending invitations."

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