Chapter 191

Iris

“I can’t believe I actually slapped her,” I whisper, staring down at my hand. It still tingles slightly, as if the impact happened just moments ago. “Right across the face. In the presidential building. In front of everyone.”

My mother sits beside me on her bed, stroking my hair as I lay my head in her lap. After Ezra dropped me back off at my parents’ estate, I went straight to find her.

“I’d say she deserved it,” my mother replies firmly, and with a hint of wry humor in her eyes. “Although I imagine the press will have a field day with it.”

“Another scandal for the books,” I agree bitterly, looking away. “First the blood diamonds, then Arthur’s engagement to Veronica, and now this. I’m sure everyone will paint me as the jealous ex.”

I try to make light of it, but my voice cracks on the last word. Before I know it, tears are spilling down my cheeks—tears I’ve been holding back since the moment I saw that ring on Veronica’s finger.

“Oh, darling,” my mother murmurs, pulling me into her arms.

And that’s when the dam breaks. All the pain, the rage, the heartbreak that I’ve been keeping bottled up comes pouring out in great, heaving sobs. I cry for the life Arthur and I could have had together. I cry for Miles, who will grow up without his father. I cry for the love that was real—real for me, at least—and now lies shattered at my feet.

“He said such terrible things,” I choke out between sobs. “He accused me of being a gold digger, again. He even implied that Miles isn’t his. Can you believe that? As if Ezra and I—as if we ever—” I can’t even finish the thought, it’s so absurd.

“Shh,” my mother soothes, stroking my hair. “None of that is true. You know that. Arthur knows that, too—at least, the real Arthur does.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, pulling back to look at her face.

My mother’s expression is troubled. “I don’t know exactly. But the man you described to me is not the Arthur I’ve come to know.”

“People change,” I mutter, repeating Veronica’s words from earlier.

“Not like this,” my mother insists. “Not overnight. Not so completely.”

I think about the moments when Arthur seemed to come back to himself briefly—the confusion in his eyes, the flicker of recognition. Could my mother be right? Could there be something else at play here?

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I say, wiping my eyes. “Whatever the reason, Arthur has made his choice. He’s chosen her.”

“Perhaps,” my mother concedes. “Or perhaps there’s more to this story than we understand.”

Sighing, I close my eyes. For a moment, we sit in silence, my mother’s arms around me, her hand gently stroking my hair as I rest in her lap. It’s soothing, comforting in a way I never experienced as a child in the orphanage.

“I used to dream about this,” I admit quietly. “When I was little. I used to imagine what it would be like to have a mother who would hold me when I cried, who would brush my hair and tell me everything would be okay.”

My mother’s arms tighten around me, and I feel a dampness in my hair as a tear plops onto my head. She’s crying too, I realize.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” she whispers. “I’m sorry you had to grow up without knowing us.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I assure her. “And we’re together now. That’s what matters.”

My mother pulls back, and when I sit up, she cups my face in her hands. “Listen to me, Iris. Whatever happens with Arthur, whatever the world tries to throw at you, you are stronger than all of it. You’ve survived so much already—growing up without your family, raising a child on your own, and now this. And through it all, you’ve kept your head high and your heart open.”

I don’t know if I believe that. But her words do soothe something inside of me.

She brushes a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I mean it,” she whispers as if reading my mind. “Every word of it.”

In this moment, in the safety of her arms, I feel compelled to tell her everything—not just about Arthur and Veronica, but about the strange dreams, the visions, the she-wolf, the warnings.

“Mom,” I begin hesitantly, “there’s something else. Something strange has been happening to me.”

Her expression shifts to one of concern. “What is it?”

“I’ve been having these… visions, I guess you could call them.” I pause, watching her reaction carefully. “It started as strange dreams—about Veronica with a serpent’s tail, hands pulling me beneath a river of blood…”

My mother blinks at me. I swallow hard and go on, “Then, today, in my studio… A she-wolf appeared and told me to beware the serpent. She mentioned Nora.”

Her eyes widen, her lips parting in surprise. “Have you seen this… wolf anywhere else?”

I nod slowly and tell her about the wolf we saw on the cliff at the ranch—but we all saw it that day. I know it wasn’t a hallucination. Then, I tell her about seeing the she-wolf again today in Arthur’s office.

When I’m finished, my throat is raw and cracked. “Am I going crazy?” I whisper, tears blurring my vision once more.

My mother’s grip on my hands tightens almost painfully. “No. You’re a Dreamer,” she breathes, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

“A… what?”

But before she can answer, there’s a knock at the door. A moment later, one of the household staff pokes her head in.

“I apologize for the interruption, Mrs. Willford, but Mr. Willford is asking to speak with you. He says it’s urgent.”

“Can it wait?” my mother asks.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am. He’s in his study with Mr. Caleb and the head of PR.” Her eyes flick to me, and my stomach drops. It must be about the slap. They’re already cleaning up my mess.

My mother nods and rises. But when I get up to follow her, she shakes her head and gently pushes me back down on the bed. “Get some rest, darling. Your father, brother and I will handle it.”

“But—”

“Let your family handle this. You deserve a break.”

And with that, she presses a kiss to my forehead before leaving me alone with my thoughts.

A Dreamer. What did she mean by that?

Too exhausted to puzzle it out now, I curl up in my mother’s bed. The pillows smell like her perfume, and it’s more soothing than I expected. But sleep won’t come for a long time, and so I pull out my phone and scroll through my social media feed briefly for a distraction.

I wish I hadn’t.

There, on the screen, is an official announcement from the Office of the President:

“Alpha President Arthur is pleased to announce his engagement to Miss Veronica Willford. The wedding is scheduled for next month at the Presidential Estate. Details to follow.”

Below the text is a photo—the same one the detective showed me earlier, with Arthur and Veronica at that candlelit dinner, her hand resting on his, the citrine ring gleaming on her finger.

My stomach lurches, and for a moment, I think I might be sick. So it’s really happening. It’s official now. Arthur is marrying Veronica. Her little invitation wasn’t a bluff.

With trembling fingers, I navigate to my contacts and find Arthur’s number. My thumb hovers over it for a moment, tempted to call him, to scream at him, to beg him to come to his senses.

But what good would it do? He’s made his choice.

Instead, I press down and select “Block Contact.” A prompt appears asking if I’m sure. I hesitate for only a moment before pressing “Yes.”

That’s it, then. It’s over. The tumultuous, passionate, heartbreaking saga of Iris and Arthur comes to a quiet end with the press of a button.

Tears well up in my eyes again. I let them fall freely, mourning what once was, what could have been. I cry until I have no tears left, until my eyes are swollen and my throat is raw, until the pain has dulled to a bearable ache and my mother’s pillow is stained.

But along with those tears comes a newfound resolve.

I’m going to put this chapter of my life behind me, no matter how much it hurts, and return to the quiet life I always wanted for myself and Miles.

It’s the only thing I can do. For my son’s sake… and for mine.