Chapter 87
Iris
The next morning, the testing center is even more crowded than I expected it to be. I clutch Miles’ hand tightly as we navigate through the throng of people, all women, all waiting to see if they’re the missing heir.
The line stretches out the door and around the block, but it moves quickly. Efficient attendants in white lab coats usher people through the process, swabbing the insides of their cheeks and then sending them away.
As we get in line, I glance around at the other women who have come. They’re all strikingly beautiful, with the unmistakable presence that werewolves naturally exude—tall, graceful, with perfect skin and glossy hair.
Next to them, I feel distinctly ordinary in my jeans and simple blouse, my Flora disguise left at home today because I figured no one would recognize me anyway. I haven’t been recognized in public for a while.
When we finally reach the front of the line, a perky attendant with a clipboard greets us.
“Welcome to the Willford Family Search Initiative,” she chirps. “Are you here to be tested?”
“Yes,” I say, trying to ignore the curious glances from the women behind me. “Just me, not my son.”
“Perfect! I’ll just need you to fill out this form with your basic information.” She hands me a clipboard. “Do you have any known werewolf lineage? We’re primarily looking for Alpha werewolf genetics, of course.”
“No,” I admit, taking the clipboard. “None that I know of. I’m human, as far as I’m aware.”
The attendant blinks, her smile faltering slightly. “Oh. Well, anyone is welcome to test, of course! The donation to the orphanage is made regardless of eligibility.”
I nod, trying not to feel self-conscious as I fill out the form. Name, date of birth, contact information… There’s a space for “known genealogy” that I leave blank, and another for “reason for testing” where I simply write “orphan.”
From behind me, I hear hushed giggles. Turning slightly, I catch two gorgeous werewolf women whispering to each other.
“A human?” one murmurs, not bothering to lower her voice. “What’s the point?”
“The Willfords have been purebred Alphas for twelve generations,” the other replies, shaking her head. “As if a human could possibly be related.”
My cheeks burn, but I keep my expression neutral as I hand the form back to the attendant. She glances it over, then leads me to a small booth where another technician waits with a cheek swab.
“This will just take a second,” the technician says. “Open wide.”
I comply, trying to ignore the continued stares and whispers from the waiting room. The swab scrapes the inside of my cheek for a moment before the technician places it in a sealed tube with a label. They tell me I’ll hear back about the results within a week.
“Is it really worth running the test?” I hear someone mutter as we exit the booth. “What a waste of resources.”
Not wanting to expose Miles to any malice, I hurry toward the exit, keeping my head down. In my rush, I don’t notice the person standing in the doorway until we collide.
“Oh! I’m so sorry—Alice?”
Alice steadies herself, her surprise quickly morphing into delight. “Iris! What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I say. “Are you getting tested too?”
She nods, glancing around at the crowded room. “Yeah, I figured why not, right? I was adopted as a baby and never knew my birth parents.” She shrugs with a smile. “The chances are astronomically small, of course, but the money goes to a good cause.”
“I didn’t know you were adopted,” I say, shocked that this never came up in our conversations.
“It’s not something I advertise,” Alice admits. “My adoptive parents were wonderful, and I never felt the need to search for my birth family. But this whole Willford thing has me curious, you know?”
“I get it,” I say, nodding. “I’m in the same boat, sort of. I grew up in an orphanage, never knew my parents either.”
Alice’s eyes widen. “Really? Which orphanage?”
“Ordan Central,” I reply. “I was there from infancy until I aged out at eighteen.”
Alice goes very still, staring at me with wide eyes. “Ordan Central,” she repeats slowly. “Wait, when were you there?”
I tell her the years, and Alice’s mouth drops open. “That’s… that’s when I was there too. Before I was adopted. I left when I was six.”
Now it’s my turn to stare. “You were at Ordan Central? During those years?”
We both fall silent, studying each other’s faces with new awareness. There’s something vaguely familiar about Alice’s features now that I’m looking for it—the shape of her eyes, maybe, or the way she tilts her head when she’s thinking.
“There was a girl,” Alice says slowly. “Who used to draw pictures for everyone. She made one for me before I was adopted. A butterfly, I think?”
A memory stirs then—a small, tearful girl clutching a battered stuffed rabbit, preparing to leave the orphanage with her new family. Me, pressing a crayon drawing into her hands. “It’s yours to keep,” I’d told her. “So you won’t forget us.”
“Your rabbit,” I whisper. “You had a stuffed rabbit named… Hoppy?”
“Floppy,” Alice corrects. “Holy shit, it was you!”
Without warning, she throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly. I hug her back, astonished by this unexpected connection. Miles watches us curiously.
“I can’t believe it,” Alice says, pulling back to look at me. “Iris from the orphanage. I remember you now! You were always so nice to me when the older kids were mean.”
“And you were the kid who could do a perfect cartwheel,” I recall with a laugh. “You tried to teach me, but I was terrible at it.”
It’s strange but wonderful, connecting this piece of my past with my present. Alice, my new friend, was once little Alice from the orphanage. The coincidence seems almost too perfect to be real.
“We have so much to catch up on,” Alice says, glancing at her watch. “Do you have time for coffee? There’s a cafe just down the street.”
“I’d love that,” I reply, genuinely excited at the prospect. “Miles, would you like some hot chocolate?”
He nods enthusiastically, and the three of us exit the testing center together.
As we step onto the sidewalk, Alice links her arm through mine. “So, tell me everything. What happened after I left? Did you stay in touch with anyone else from the orphanage?”
“Not really,” I admit. “Once we all aged out, everyone scattered. Life happened.”
“And look at us now,” Alice says with a smile. “Both successful, both getting DNA tests on the off chance we’re secretly werewolf royalty.”
I laugh. “When you put it that way, it sounds ridiculous.”
“Maybe, but isn’t it fun to imagine?” She nudges me with her elbow. “Picture it: one of us turns out to be the long-lost Willford heir, moves into a mansion, then runs away somewhere tropical with the fortune and never looks back…”
“Right, I’m sure that’s exactly how it would go,” I say with a dry chuckle.
We’re about to cross the street to the cafe when a familiar black car pulls up alongside us, tires squealing slightly as it comes to an abrupt stop. The window rolls down, revealing Beta Ezra in the driver’s seat.
“Iris,” he says urgently. “You and Miles need to come with me right now.”
My heart immediately kicks into overdrive. “What? Why? What’s happened?”
“Just get in the car, please. Before it happens.”
“Before what happens?” I glance at Alice, who looks as confused as I feel. “Ezra, I’m not just going to—”
“Iris,” he cuts me off. “Trust me. You want to be in this car right now.”
Something in his tone makes me obey. I climb into the car with Miles, even pulling Alice in after me, just in case a bomb is about to go off or something. But to my surprise, Ezra doesn’t pull away just yet.
Instead, he reaches forward and taps a button on the dashboard. A screen descends from the ceiling of the car, flickering to life with a live news broadcast. The presidential seal is visible on a podium, and a crowd of reporters waits expectantly, cameras flashing.
Suddenly, Arthur walks into frame. The room falls silent as he adjusts the microphone and looks directly into the camera.
And then, without preamble, Arthur leans into the microphone and says, “My mate is a human. We have a son together, and I’m tired of keeping them hidden away in the dark.”
