Chapter 91
Draven.
I stood by the doorway to Xamira’s room, watching Dorothy tie her hair into a soft ponytail with a pink ribbon. The child looked calm—too calm.
“Dorothy,” I said quietly.
She turned immediately, startled. “Alpha—yes, sir.”
“Leave us.”
She gave a nervous bow and quickly slipped out of the room, the door clicking softly behind her.
Xamira sat on the edge of her bed, her small fingers fiddling in her lap. Her eyes were cast downward, lashes shadowing her cheeks. She looked nothing like the bright, joyful daughter I had raised.
“Look at me,” I said.
Slowly, she raised her head.
“Tell me the truth. Did you push my wife into the pool?”
A moment passed. Two. Then she nodded.
My jaw clenched. I folded my arms across my chest. “Why?”
“I…” She sniffled. “I was just playing.”
“You call that playing?”
“I didn’t know she couldn’t swim…”
“But you knew you pushed her. You knew it might scare her. You just didn’t care enough to think past the moment.”
She winced and looked away.
A sharp breath escaped me. I pinched the bridge of my nose before stepping toward her.
“Come with me.”
She didn’t question me. Just slid off the bed and followed behind in silence.
Xamira’s little feet made the faintest sound behind me as we descended the stairs.
I didn’t say another word to her—not until we reached the first floor.
Her silence wasn’t out of innocence. It was avoidance. And that unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.
We crossed the hallway. At Meredith’s wing, I paused before the door and knocked once.
Azul answered. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw me… and the child behind me.
“Is she awake?” I asked.
Azul shook her head. “Still resting, Alpha. But we have applied the balm and oils. Deidra went to get the warm milk from the kitchen.”
I gave a small nod and pushed the door open.
Xamira followed me inside.
The room was quiet and warm. The air smelled faintly of mint oil and the sweet vanilla fragrance Meredith often wore. The curtains were still drawn, and the lighting was dim, golden.
Kira stood by the bed, adjusting the thick duvets around Meredith’s frame. She looked up and bowed when I entered.
Meredith lay bundled on the bed, still pale. Her silver hair, though mostly dried, clung in damp strands to her temple. Her lips had more colour now, but her breathing was shallow. Peaceful… but frail.
I turned to Xamira.
She was already staring at the woman on the bed. Something flickered across her small face. I couldn’t read it.
“Look at her,” I said, pointing toward Meredith. My voice was level, but it held weight. “That is what happens when someone nearly dies.”
Her gaze snapped to mine.
“You could have killed her, Xamira. Do you understand what that means?”
Tears instantly brimmed in her eyes. She shook her head like she didn’t want to hear it.
“You pushed her into the water… and she doesn’t know how to swim.”
“I-I didn’t know,” she whispered, her bottom lip trembling.
“You didn’t ask.”
She dropped her gaze, her arms hugging herself tightly.
“Do you know what the law says about people who kill others?” I asked, kneeling slightly to meet her eye level. “They are punished. Some of them are locked away in very, very bad places. Away from everyone they love.”
Her eyes widened in horror. A single tear slid down her cheek.
“I’m not punishing you for being a child,” I said. “But what you did today? That wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a prank. It was dangerous.”
Azul stepped quietly forward. “Alpha… the milk—”
“Give it to her when she wakes,” I said. “Don’t leave her side.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
I think Azul must have intentionally interrupted me because she thought I was either disturbing her mistress’ rest or being too harsh on Xamira.
Regardless, I straightened and turned back to Xamira, whose head was lowered once again.
“Come,” I said coldly.
She followed without a word.
By the time we reached the second floor, Xamira’s fingers had tightened into fists at her sides. Her tears had dried, but her sniffles still came in tiny, trembling exhales.
I pushed open the door to her room. Dorothy was there already, folding away the clothes from earlier. She straightened immediately when she saw us.
I turned to Xamira. She had moved from where she stood just by the door.
“Why would you do something like pushing someone into a pool?”
Then her lips moved—so softly I almost didn’t catch the words.
“I wanted your attention.”
I blinked. “What?”
That same excuse again?
“I just wanted your attention,” she said louder, this time with more tears in her eyes. “I thought if I… if I played tricks on her, she would leave, and then you would give me your time again.”
My chest tightened. Not from pity—at least, not entirely. But from disbelief.
Where had she gotten such a ridiculous idea?
I barely spent any time with Meredith at all. And yet, somehow, Xamira had tied her childish jealousy to this woman she barely knew.
“Who taught you that?” I asked her quietly. My voice was no longer cold, just cautious.
Xamira blinked. “I… I—”
Just then, the door opened before she could finish and Wanda stepped inside.
Her eyes moved immediately to Xamira. “Draven, maybe take it easy on her. She’s just a child.”
I didn’t look at her. “Leave.”
Wanda froze. “Draven—”
“Out,” I said again, sharper this time. I turned slowly to face her. “Don’t ever interrupt me when I’m correcting my child. I don’t need your help raising her.”
Wanda’s lips parted, but she must have seen something in my eyes, because she backed away slowly and left the room without another word.
Then I turned to Dorothy.
“From today,” I said, voice firm and emotionless, “Xamira will no longer eat at the dining table with the rest of us. If she hates my wife so much, then she shouldn’t have to see her.”
Dorothy nodded slowly, brows furrowed in confusion.
“And if she must take walks around the estate, it will not be in Meredith’s sight. Ever.”
“And one more thing,” I added. “Wanda is to keep her distance from Xamira. From now on, you alone will handle the child’s care.”
Dorothy looked stunned. “Y-Yes, Alpha.”
I left without another glance behind me and turned toward the hallway, my steps heavy with disappointment.
Something was wrong, much deeper than childish jealousy.
And I had a sick feeling that Wanda was at the heart of it.