Chapter 202

Iris

Alice’s office is blissfully quiet. My hands are shaking as I turn the lock, and for a moment I just lean against the door, trying to catch my breath.

We made it. We’re alone. Away from Veronica’s watchful eyes and the crowd of people who would love nothing more than to witness another public spectacle.

Arthur stands in the middle of the small room, looking lost. His eyes keep darting toward the door, and I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. He looks caught between running back to Veronica and staying here with me.

“I should go back,” he suddenly mutters, as if the fog has won out. “Veronica will be looking for me. She’ll worry.”

My heart aches, and I want to cry again, but I don’t. Instead, I manage in a surprisingly calm voice, “You don’t want to do that, Arthur. I’m not sure how, but she’s controlling you. You have to get a grip.”

He frowns and shakes his head like he’s trying to clear the fog. “Control? What are you talking about? Veronica doesn’t… she’s my fiancee. My mate. We’re getting married. Get out of the way.”

I close the distance between us. “Arthur, look at me. Really look at me.”

He does, and I watch as recognition flickers in his green eyes. For just a moment, the strange confusion that seems to have taken over his mind lifts, and I see clarity return the same way it did on the dance floor.

“Iris…”

“Yes,” I say softly. “It’s me. You’re safe. Veronica won’t hurt you anymore.”

He blinks, but then the moment passes, and confusion clouds his features again. “No, that’s… you can’t be here. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” He trails off, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples. “Because Veronica said… she told me…”

“What did she tell you?”

“That you were dangerous. That you tried to poison her. That you were jealous and vindictive and—” He stops abruptly, his eyes widening. “But that’s not right, is it? That’s not you...”

“No, it’s not me,” I say, and can’t help the wry little laugh that escapes my lips—there’s no humor in it. “You know me, Arthur. You’ve known me for six years. Have I ever been vindictive? Have I ever tried to hurt anyone?”

“No,” he says immediately, and my shoulders deflate slightly with relief. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly. You cried when Miles accidentally stepped on a spider last month, and you made him have a funeral for it.”

My eyes fill with tears once more, but I blink them away.

“Then why would I try to poison Veronica?”

He shakes his head slowly. “You wouldn’t. But then why does everyone think…”

As he wracks his brain, I take a moment to observe him, my heart cracking more and more with each moment. Ezra was right; Veronica must be doing something to him. But what?

“Arthur,” I say slowly, “has she been drugging you? Giving you pills, maybe? Alcohol?”

He looks like he’s been shot. “Veronica? No, she would never…” He shakes his head, then pauses as if his mind is at war again. Suddenly, his eyes widen. “The perfume.”

“The… perfume?” I echo. Now, I’m the one who’s confused.

He’s quiet for a long moment, his fingers rubbing his temples. “The night she was poisoned,” he finally mutters. “In the room after. She had this little bottle, and she… she sprayed it at me when I tried to leave.”

“What?”

“It smelled like you,” he goes on. “Only more intense. And when I inhaled it, everything got so… fuzzy.”

My mind races. Perfume that smells like me. I’m instantly reminded of the day at the children’s event, when Miles mistook her for me and ran to her. I recall how Arthur’s eyes glowed when he looked at her, too, and how she laughed and said she was wearing the same brand of perfume I wear.

Only it wasn’t the same brand, was it? How did she actually mimic my natural scent with a perfume? Is that even possible?

“So you’re saying that she has been drugging you,” I say slowly, hardly able to believe it myself. “With some kind of… perfume. That smells like me.”

Arthur’s face crumples, and suddenly he looks exhausted. “Oh, Goddess, I’ve made such a mess of everything,” he whispers. “Miles… I said terrible things about Miles. About you. I accused you of—”

“You weren’t yourself,” I say firmly. “Whatever you said, whatever you did, that wasn’t you.”

“But I hurt you. I chose her over you. I gave her your ring.”

Arthur looks at me then, really looks at me for the first time in weeks, and the desperation in his eyes makes my knees buckle. Before I can stop myself, a choked sob slips out. I lurch forward and throw my arms around him, and he catches me, stroking my hair.

“You—you let her—she—do you still love me?” I’m not even sure if I’m making sense, my mind is such a mess. Each word comes out like a fragment of a thought, weeks worth of pain and anger and sadness all rolled up into one jumble of words.

“Of course, Iris. I never stopped loving you,” he says firmly into my hair. “Even when I couldn’t remember why, even when that fog made everything unclear, there was always this ache in my chest. Like something was missing.”

Gasping, I tilt my head back to look up at him. “You… did?”

“Yes.” He reaches out tentatively, cupping my face in his hands. His touch is gentle, and I can’t help but lean my cheek into his palm. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats. “I’m so fucking sorry, Iris.”

He leans down, and I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to kiss me, to prove that this is real, that he’s really back. But just as his lips brush mine, the door behind me explodes open.

“Iris Willford, you’re under arrest.”

I spin around to see Detective Harris standing in the doorway, flanked by two uniformed officers. He’s holding a warrant in his hand.

“What?” I gasp. “For what?”

“Attempted murder of Veronica Willford and conspiracy to commit fraud,” he says, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “You have the right to remain silent…”

As the cops move forward and begin to cuff me, Arthur stares, wide-eyed, only now… He’s not looking at me.

A red dress hurries past me. “Arthur, darling! Are you alright? Did she hurt you?”

Veronica.

Arthur’s fangs flash, but it’s too late. His eyes flicker red, then glaze over. And when he looks down at her, he… smiles.

“Yes, dear,” he says, holding Veronica close. “I’m better now that you’re here.”

I don’t even have the breath to cry out as the cops cuff me. All I can do is stare at Arthur. My Arthur, and that… snake.

As they march me out of the office, I finally regain my ability to speak. “You have to help him!” I cry out. “Please! Her perfume—she’s drugging him!”

“Save it for the judge,” Detective Harris grunts, ignoring my cries.

Before I know it, I’m being pushed through the main gallery space, and the sight that greets me makes my blood run cold. The entire gala has come to a standstill. Everyone is staring at me in shocked silence, their champagne glasses frozen halfway to their lips, their conversations cut off mid-sentence.

And there, near the center of the room, is Ezra. He’s in handcuffs too, flanked by his own set of officers.

The crowd parts as we’re marched through, and I can hear the whispers starting.

“The Jewel Killer…”

“Finally arrested…”

“About time…”

My cheeks burn with shame. I whip my head around, hoping to get a glimpse of Arthur, if only to see him one final time.

They’re standing near the back of the crowd, and Veronica isn’t even trying to hide her satisfaction anymore. As our eyes meet across the room, she actually has the audacity to wink at me.

And then, as I’m being dragged toward the exit, as cameras flash and people whisper and point and ignore my pleas, Veronica puts her arm around Arthur and pulls him down for a kiss.