Chapter 75

Iris

I’m staring at my phone in disbelief, reading the email for the third time to make sure I’m not hallucinating.

“We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the Abbott Gallery residency. Your work demonstrated exceptional promise and artistic vision…”

My fingers tremble as I scroll through the details. A months-long residency. A stipend that would cover all of my basic expenses and then some. A fully furnished apartment on the premises where I can live and work.

It’s everything I’ve been working toward these past weeks. It’s a step forward in my career, a chance for yet another fresh start, a way out of Arthur’s apartment.

And it couldn’t have come at a worse time.

I set the phone down on the kitchen counter and close my eyes, trying to think. After last night’s explosive argument with Arthur, the residency would be the perfect escape. A legitimate reason to leave this apartment without it seeming like I’m running away.

But Miles…

He’s currently upstairs with Arthur, who took the day off to spend time with him. I can hear their muffled laughter filtering down from the guest bedroom, where they’re building something with blocks.

The sound should bring a smile to my face, but it just makes my stomach twist. Despite everything—despite Arthur’s lies and manipulations—Miles adores his father. Leaving now would devastate him.

I need to think. I need to sleep on this before making any rash decisions.

Later that afternoon, I hear back from the law firm. They ask me to come in for a consultation, so I head out under the guise of picking up lunch and arrive at the familiar office. It’s strange, coming back after they initially told me they couldn’t help me, but I’ll take whatever help I can get now.

The lawyer invites me into his office. I sit, placing my purse at my feet. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Of course.” He opens a leather-bound notebook. “Now, I’ve been going over your details, and I won’t sugarcoat this. Alpha Heir custody cases are notoriously difficult for human parents.” He adjusts his glasses. “The courts tend to favor the Alpha parent, especially when the child is a confirmed Alpha.”

My stomach tightens. “So I don’t have a chance? But I thought you said you could help me.”

“I can. Alpha Arthur may be powerful, but he’s not invincible. The fact that he used an unlawful arrest and twisted your contract to keep you from leaving Ordan could work in our favor. And if we can prove that he deliberately misled you, or that he’s an unfit parent in other ways…”

“He’s not unfit,” I admit reluctantly. “Whatever else he may be, he loves Miles.”

The lawyer nods. “Admirable honesty. But love isn’t the only factor here. We could argue that he’s manipulative, that he uses his wealth and status to control you.”

Over the next half hour, we go over the details of the case. The legal jargon is dizzying, but I try my best to keep up, providing information wherever I can. By the end, the lawyer informs me that he’ll reach out to Arthur soon for our first meeting. The thought makes me feel sick, but I know it’s necessary. Anything to keep him from taking Miles away.

“Now, Iris,” the lawyer finally says, closing his notebook, “I strongly recommend creating physical distance between yourself and Alpha Arthur during this process. Cases like this can become… volatile. Tensions rise. You mentioned an argument last night that your son witnessed?”

I wince, remembering Miles’ frightened face when he saw me throw that figurine. “Yes.”

“Children shouldn’t be exposed to that kind of conflict. For Miles’ sake, separate living arrangements might be best.”

I nod slowly, letting his words sink in. For Miles’ sake. That’s what matters most here—what’s best for my son.

“I’ll need to think about it,” I say, gathering my purse. “But I’ll let you know my decision soon.”

The lawyer stands. “Whatever you decide, I’m prepared to help you fight for your son.”

Back at the apartment, I sit on my bed, staring at the acceptance email again. The residency starts in two weeks. If I accept, I could move in as early as this weekend.

The sound of Miles’ laughter floats in from the living room, where he’s watching a movie with Arthur. I think about how quickly he’s settled into this place, how he calls it ‘our home’ with such pride. How his eyes light up when Arthur walks through the door each evening.

But I also remember his tear-streaked face when he found us fighting last night. The way he trembled as he clung to Arthur’s legs.

Is staying here, continuing this toxic dance with Arthur, really what’s best for Miles? Or am I just afraid of hurting him in the short term, even if leaving would be better for him in the long run?

Biting my lip, I pull out my phone and send a text to Alice: “Can you come with me to look at an apartment tomorrow? Got the Abbott residency.”

Her response is immediate: “OMG CONGRATS!!! Yes, of course. What time?”

I set a time to meet, then lie back on the bed, my decision made. It will hurt—Goddess, it will hurt Miles to leave this place he’s just begun to think of as home, to uproot him yet again. But the lawyer is right. Children shouldn’t be exposed to this.

For Miles’ sake, we need to go. We’ll rebuild, just as we did before. We’ll have peace again, even if it’s painful at first.

The following morning, I meet up with Alice at the Abbott Gallery. The leasing agent takes us through the apartment, and I have to admit, it’s stunning.

High ceilings with exposed beams. Tall windows that flood the space with natural light. A spacious main room that could serve as both a living area and studio. A small but modern kitchen. A separate bedroom with enough space for both Miles and me, at least for now.

The leasing agent smiles proudly as she shows us around. “The stipend is modest, but it covers utilities and basic expenses with a little extra for miscellaneous expenditures. You’d be expected to work on-site at least thirty hours a week, but the schedule is flexible.”

“And my son?” I ask. “Would he be allowed to stay here with me?”

“Of course. We’ve had resident artists with children before. There’s a playground two blocks away, and a good elementary school within walking distance.”

I wander to one of the windows, looking down at the busy street below. It’s in a completely different part of the city from Arthur’s apartment—far enough that we wouldn’t run into him accidentally, but close enough that Miles could still see his father regularly. If it comes to that.

“What do you think?” Alice asks, joining me at the window.

“I think…” I take a deep breath. “I think it’s perfect.” I turn to the agent. “Can I sign the lease today?”

She beams. “Absolutely.”

An hour later, the paperwork is completed. I’m officially the newest artist-in-residence at Abbott Gallery, with a move-in date three days from now.

Now, I just need to tell Miles.

…

“But I don’t want to go!” Miles shouts. “This is our home! With Daddy!”

I kneel in front of him, keeping my voice calm despite the way my heart is breaking. “I know it feels that way, sweetie. But this is going to be good for us. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“No!” He stomps his foot, tears streaming down his face. “I want to stay here!”

I reach for him, but he jerks away from my touch. “Miles, please try to understand—”

“You’re just mad at Daddy!” he accuses. “You’re being mean!”

The words hit me like a slap to the face. I swallow hard. “This isn’t about being mad at Daddy. This is about what’s best for both of us.”

“You’re lying!” He backs away from me. “You promised we would stay! You promised!”

I didn’t, actually. But in his mind, I had. In his mind, we were finally a family, the three of us together, a happily ever after. And now I’m shattering that dream.

“Miles—”

But he turns and runs, slamming his bedroom door behind him. I rise slowly to my feet, feeling like the worst mother in the world. Is this really the right decision? Am I just being selfish, putting my career before my son’s happiness?

For the rest of the evening, Miles refuses to speak to me. He won’t come out for dinner. He won’t look at me when I bring a plate to his room. He won’t even answer when I tell him I love him. He’s gone completely nonverbal.

The silent treatment continues until bedtime, when I tuck him in despite his stony silence. I kiss his forehead, whispering, “I love you so much, little wolf.” For the first time, the nickname feels different on my tongue—now that I know the truth.

He turns his face away and doesn’t answer.

I’m doing the right thing, I remind myself for the thousandth time all day. For both of us. Even if it doesn’t feel that way right now.

Once I’m sure Miles is asleep, I retrieve a suitcase from the closet and begin quietly packing.