CHAPTER 242: MEREDITH’S FAMILY (II)

(Third Person).

Monique added, "Exactly. What if she’s hurt? Or worse... What if she’s dead and Draven hasn’t told anyone?"

Margareth tensed. She tried to hide it behind her wine glass, but the mention of death brought a flash of dread. Draven hadn’t contacted them since his return. It gnawed at her.

Then almost immediately, she tried to convince her husband to let Gary and Mabel follow Draven when he is returning to Duskmoor, so they can visit Meredith.

Gabriel’s brows knit in fury. He took in everyone’s gaze and asked, "Why do you all care if that girl is dead or still alive?"

"She’s still our daughter," Margareth said quietly, her voice steadier than she felt. "If something’s happened to her, don’t we deserve to know?"

Gabriel sighed, setting his fork down. "You are all making a scene over nothing."

"But Father," Mabel pressed, "it would just be a short visit. Maybe we could even go back with Alpha Draven when he returns to Duskmoor."

Margareth added softly, "If Meredith is alive, then it’s important we see her. If she’s not, then we must demand answers."

Gabriel didn’t care for emotional appeals. He was a man of pride, and what his wife said finally pierced through—demand answers.

The idea of Draven treating him, Beta Gabriel Carter, like an irrelevant outsider didn’t sit well.

He had been a Beta for decades. His daughter was a Luna now, wasn’t she? Then where was the respect due to him?

The next moment, he looked up slowly and said in a final tone, "I will think about it."

Around the table, heads nodded. The conversation shifted, the food continued to disappear from their plates, but the energy had shifted. Behind every calm expression sat different motives:

Mabel and Monique both relished the idea of seeing their sister again—not out of affection, but curiosity, maybe even the twisted hope of catching her vulnerable.

Gary, calculating, was eager to see if Meredith had fulfilled the private instruction he’d whispered to her that day at the banquet.

As for Margareth, she just wanted to know her daughter was safe.

And Gabriel, deep down, was already rehearsing how he would look Draven in the eye and remind him who he was.

---

~An Hour Later~

The evening air was cool and scented faintly with blooming gardenias from the flowerbeds below the terrace.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the Carter estate. Monique and Mabel lounged on cushioned wrought-iron chairs, each holding a glass of deep red wine, their laughter rising in soft waves over the quiet night.

"I still can’t believe Father said he’d think about it," Mabel said, swirling her wine slowly, watching the liquid catch the moonlight. "I just hope he agrees. I want to see the look on Meredith’s face when we show up unannounced."

Monique smirked, legs crossed, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Same. I’d pay good coin just to see how she’s been faring without her little shield around. I mean, really, what’s Duskmoor even like? The way Father and Gary speak of it—filled with monsters, and yet she’s been living there?"

"I would go just for that," Mabel chuckled. "To see the city and those foul Humans. It’s hard to believe she’s gotten used to them."

Monique took a long sip from her glass. "Still doesn’t change the fact that she’s beneath us."

Silence hung for a moment, punctuated only by the soft hum of distant cicadas.

Then Monique tilted her head, eyeing her younger sister sideways. "You know... you still haven’t found your mate, have you?"

Mabel let out a dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes. "Don’t remind me. Maybe the Moon Goddess is just taking her sweet time because she’s preparing someone... perfect."

At that, Monique burst into laughter, nearly spilling her wine. "Perfect? Goddess, Mabel. The last man you called perfect ended up crying after two weeks with you."

"He was too emotional," Mabel said defensively, before breaking into laughter herself. "And remember, he wasn’t my mate, so of course, he was no match for me."

Just then, the door door behind them opened, and Gary stepped out onto the terrace, the cool night air ruffling the edge of his shirt.

"What’s so funny?" he asked, raising a brow as he approached.

Mabel grinned. "We were talking about how I still haven’t found my mate."

Monique gestured lazily with her wine glass. "And we were just about to talk about how you haven’t either."

Gary snorted as he leaned against the railing. "Please, worry about yourself. It’s easier for me. Whether I meet my mate or not, I can still settle down. The same can’t be said of you."

Mabel narrowed her eyes. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Gary said with a smug grin, "that women like you tend to chew through men before the mating bond can even click."

Monique laughed again, unapologetically. "He’s not wrong."

Mabel groaned, covering her face. "You two are the worst."

The terrace was soon filled with laughter again, the wine warming their blood, the night stretching ahead with ease.

Mabel, still smiling, leaned back in her chair and stretched her legs. "You know..." she said, almost thoughtfully, "have either of you noticed that Mother’s stance on Meredith has been... softening?"

Monique and Gary exchanged a look.

"I have," Monique admitted, resting her elbow on the armrest and tapping her lower lip with her fingertip. "She’s more tense whenever we bring Meredith up now. Especially tonight. Did you see how she snapped at us before dinner?"

Gary gave a slow nod. "Yeah. And she didn’t laugh when you made that joke about Meredith being dead."

"She used to laugh," Mabel said with a dry chuckle. "Now she looks like she’s trying to keep herself from slapping us."

Monique sighed and sat up straighter, brushing her hair behind one shoulder. "Let’s not be too hard on Mother," she said, surprising the others.

"You remember, don’t you? Meredith used to be her all-time favourite back then. She pampered her like some princess while ignoring us like we were spare furniture."

Mabel pressed her lips together, trying to suppress the grin creeping up her face—but failed. A short snort escaped, then she burst out laughing.

"Spare furniture!" she wheezed. "Monique, you’re terrible."

Gary shook his head slowly, a half-smile on his face. "You’re the worst," he said calmly to Monique.

And beneath the amusement and teasing, one truth sat unspoken between them:

They all hoped their father would say yes to the trip. Because whether it was to satisfy curiosity, jealousy, or something else altogether...

Meredith, like always, was the center of their attention—even from afar.