<h4>Chapter 669: Draven Gives Clear Orders to His Father</h4>


    <strong><i>[Third Person].</i></strong>


    Two weekster, in the quiet depths of night, Meredith stirred abruptly from sleep.


    A sudden, firm movement in her belly startled her awake, followed by another—stronger this time. Her breath caught slightly as her hand instinctively moved to her stomach, pressing gently as if to steady the sensation.


    "Draven..."


    He woke almost immediately at the sound of her voice, his instincts sharp even in sleep. "What is it?" he asked, already turning toward her, his tone alert but controlled.


    "They are moving," she said, her voice softer now, carrying a hint of surprise rather than concern.


    Draven pushed himself up, his attention fully drawn to her. "Now?"


    Meredith nodded, then reached for his hand and guided it to her belly. "Here."


    For a brief moment, there was nothing. Then, a clear kick pressed against his palm, followed by another, more deliberate movement.


    Draven stilledpletely. The usualposure he carried seemed to loosen as something deeper surfaced in his expression.


    He felt it again—a small but undeniable force, and his gaze shifted slightly, as though grounding himself in the reality of it.


    "They are strong," he said quietly.


    Meredith let out a soft breath, the earlier surprise fading into warmth. "They startled me."


    But there was a smile on her lips now.


    Draven did not remove his hand. Instead, he kept it there, steady, almost protective, as though unwilling to miss even a single movement.


    After a moment, he spoke again, his tone carrying a quiet pride. "Are you two preparing toe out already?"


    Meredith let out a light chuckle. "You are getting ahead of yourself. There are still months before that happens."


    Draven nced at her, then leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to her cheek. "I still can’t wait."


    —


    By morning, the pce had returned to its usual rhythm.


    Meredith and Draven joined her grandmother in the dining room, where breakfast was already set.


    The atmosphere was calm, filled with soft conversation and an ease that had be natural between them. There was no urgency in their movements, no tension lingering in the air, only quiet familiarity.


    After the meal, Meredith rose and walked towards her grandmother. "Grandma, let’s take a walk," she said gently.


    "Mmm." The olddy hummed in agreement.


    Draven watched them briefly before nodding. "Don’t go too far."


    Meredith gave him a look that suggested she heard him, even if she didn’t respond directly, and then she left with her grandmother.


    As soon as they were gone, Draven’s expression shifted slightly. "Oscar."


    Oscar appeared without dy. "Your Majesty."


    "Send for my father."


    Oscar bowed. "At once."


    —


    When Meredith and her grandmother returned from their walk, the warmth of the approaching afternoon had settledfortably over the pce.


    Inside her chambers, Meredith sat at the edge of the bed, adjusting her dress slightly as she exhaled in quiet relief.


    Her grandmother followed her in and, without hesitation, reached for her foot. "Sit properly," she instructed.


    Meredith adjusted her posture, already ustomed to her tone. Then her grandmother began to massage her foot.


    Her movements were steady and precise, guided by familiarity. There was no uncertainty in her touch as she applied pressure in the right ces, easing the subtle tension that had built from walking.


    Meredith rxed almost immediately, a soft breath leaving her as she leaned back slightly. "That feels good," she admitted.


    "It should," her grandmother replied calmly, continuing her work. After a moment, she added, "You are not swollen."


    Meredith nced down briefly. "I’ve been careful."


    Her grandmother gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement, then continued in silence for a while before speaking again.


    "Your son has a strong personality."


    Meredith frowned slightly, trying to follow. "What do you mean?"


    "He does not like his father being close to you," her grandmother said, her tone still even.


    There was a brief pause as Meredith processed the words. Then, slowly, realization dawned. Her expression shifted almost immediately.


    "...Grandma."


    Her grandmother continued, as though simply stating an obvious fact. "And you are too protective."


    That was enough for understanding to settle fully this time, and a faint flush crept onto Meredith’s face. She looked away, suddenly very aware of what had been implied.


    "I..." she started, then stopped. In the end, she simply nodded, choosing not to argue or exin.


    Her grandmother, knowing her well enough, did not press the matter further. Instead, she let the moment pass naturally as her hands slowed.


    "You should continue your exercises," she said, shifting the topic with ease.


    Meredith nodded again, grateful for the change. "I will."


    And just like that, the conversation moved on, leaving behind only a quiet, lingering awareness that needed no further words.


    ---


    Draven was already seated when they arrived, waiting in one of the smaller sitting chambers tucked away from the main hall.


    The space was quiet and enclosed, chosen deliberately for privacy rather thanfort.


    He sat back against the sofa with an ease that seemed almost deliberate, one arm resting along the armrest as though this were a casual meeting and not one summoned with urgency.


    The door opened, and Oscar entered first, followed by Randall.


    Randall stopped a few steps in and bowed. "Your Majesty."


    "Rise." Draven acknowledged him with a slight nod, then gestured towards a sofa, "Sit."


    Randall straightened and took the seat opposite him, though the tension in his posture made it clear he was not at ease. His eyes studied Draven carefully, already searching for the reason behind the summons.


    Draven’s gaze shifted briefly. "Oscar. You may leave us."


    "You may leave us." Oscar bowed without hesitation and withdrew, closing the door behind him and leaving the two men alone.


    Randall broke the silence first. "Is there an emergency?" he asked, his tone controlled but edged with suspicion. "You sent for me urgently."


    "There is an important matter," Draven replied.


    Randall leaned back slightly, his attention sharpening. "I’m listening."


    Draven did not circle the matter. "It concerns my mother. Rosalie."


    At the mention of her name, Randall’s expression changed, the ease draining from his face as something colder took its ce.


    "What about her?" he asked, his voice tightening.


    Draven met his gaze without hesitation. "I want you to release her from that prison you kept her in and escort her into the pce yourself."