Chapter 126

Iris

“Announcing… Lady Iris Willford!” the attendant calls out. “The long-lost Willford heir has returned!”

The room goes utterly silent as I step through the doorway. Hundreds of eyes turn to stare at me all at once, and I feel my throat tighten. Fuck. This is even more intense than I imagined.

My mother gives my arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping away, leaving me alone in the spotlight. The silence stretches on, uncomfortably long, and all I can hear is the thundering of my own heartbeat in my ears.

I trained for this moment, of course. We practiced my entrance over and over and over again until I could do it in my sleep, and yet… I can’t move.

Just when I think I might actually pass out, Caleb comes to stand beside me. He gently takes my hand and places it on his arm.

“Breathe,” he whispers. “I’m right here, little sister.”

I nod slightly, take a deep breath, and take my first step with him by my side. The crowd begins to murmur, then whisper, then talk openly as I descend the few steps into the ballroom proper.

“I thought she was the spitting image of Maeve when she was young—”

“—can’t believe the Willfords kept this secret—”

“I wonder what this means for the future…”

I keep my chin up and my expression pleasant, just like I practiced. Inside, though, I’m a jumble of nerves. All of these people are no doubt waiting for me to mess up again, to embarrass myself—and now my entire newfound family—just as I have before.

“Miss Willford,” a smooth voice suddenly calls, and I turn to see a tall, elegant woman approaching. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, with honey-blonde hair cascading down her back and silvery eyes that immediately mark her as a Willford. Her gown is a deep midnight blue that contrasts stunningly with her fair skin.

“Veronica,” Caleb greets her warmly. “Perfect timing. Iris, this is our cousin, Veronica. She’s our aunt’s daughter on our mom’s side.”

My eyes widen as I finally place her. Veronica Matthews—the world-renowned pianist. I’ve seen her on magazine covers, watched her performances online, even attended a few with Brian and Liam.

She’s a prodigy who began playing at age three and debuted with the Ordan Philharmonic at twelve. She’s a legend.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” I say, extending my hand. “I’m a huge fan of your work.”

Veronica’s perfect eyebrows rise slightly. “Are you? How delightful.” She takes my hand and shakes it. “The family resemblance is remarkable. You’re going to cause quite a stir in our little world, Iris.”

“I think I already have,” I reply, glancing around at the still-whispering crowd.

She laughs, and somehow it’s just as musical as her piano abilities. “Oh, this is nothing. Wait until the press gets hold of the full story.” She leans in conspiratorially. “I hear you’ve already had a taste of their attention this morning.”

News travels fast. “A small misunderstanding. Nothing important.”

“Hmm. Well, they’ll find plenty more to speculate about now.” Her gaze shifts over my shoulder, and her smile tightens almost imperceptibly. “Speaking of speculation.”

I turn to see Arthur making his way toward us, looking devastatingly handsome in his formal attire. My heart does a little flip at the sight of him.

“Arthur,” Veronica greets him with a practiced smile. “How lovely to see you again.”

“Veronica,” he responds politely. “It’s been a while.”

An awkward silence falls between them, and I get the distinct impression that there’s some kind of history here. Veronica confirms it a moment later.

“Did you know, Iris, that Arthur and I were once considered a potential match?” She says this lightly, as if commenting on the weather. “Before Selina, of course. The families thought we would make a suitable pair.”

I did not know this. I glance at Arthur, who looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Is that so?”

“Oh yes. In the end, though, my cousin had more immediate political influence than my branch of the Willford family.” She sips her champagne delicately. “Isn’t it ironic? Arthur chose Selina for her connections, and now he ends up with a Willford anyway.” Her giggles airily. “You must be pleased, Arthur. You’re still getting the political alliance you wanted, even with Selina in that unfortunate coma.”

Arthur’s jaw tightens. “That’s not—”

“Excuse me,” a new voice interrupts, and we turn to see my father approaching. “Veronica, your mother is looking for you.”

Veronica’s smile never falters. “Of course, Uncle Francis. We’ll continue our chat later, Iris. I have so many family stories to share with you.” She glides away, the perfect picture of grace and poise. I feel breathless just watching her.

And yet, I can’t help but feel a little… off after that. Veronica’s implication that Arthur is only with me for political connections shouldn’t bother me. After all, he chose me when he thought I was just a human artist with no connections at all. He made our relationship public, risking his reputation and position.

That’s why, when a tiny seed of doubt forms, I push it aside. This isn’t the time or the place, and I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that.

For the next hour, my parents stay close, guiding me through the social minefield. I meet distant relatives, family friends, business associates, political allies—too many names and faces to possibly remember.

Some react with genuine delight at meeting me. Others are more reserved, clearly calculating what my existence means for their own interests. A few are openly hostile, although they hide it behind stiff smiles and formal greetings.

Through it all, I maintain my composure, drawing on every lesson I’ve learned over the past few weeks. I smile warmly, laugh at all the right moments, respond to questions with carefully measured answers.

To my surprise, I find that I’m actually sort of good at this—or at least, I’m a quick learner.

Throughout the night, I catch glimpses of Arthur throughout the room. He’s in his element, moving smoothly through the crowd, every inch the Alpha President. Occasionally our eyes meet across the room, and he gives me a small, private smile that makes my heart race.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of socializing, my father steps into the center of the room and raises his hand. The crowd falls silent immediately.

“Friends, family, honored guests,” he begins, his voice carrying effortlessly through the vast space even with no microphone. “Thank you all for joining us on this momentous occasion. As many of you know, our family has been blessed with a miracle—the return of our beloved daughter, Iris, who had been swapped at birth.”

I step forward to stand beside him, just as we practiced.

“For twenty-six years, we had no idea our daughter had been taken from us,” my father continues. “Today marks Iris’s official debut as a Willford—a reclaiming of her birthright and her rightful place in our family and our society.”

Polite applause ripples through the crowd. My mother raises her champagne toward me and shoots me a wink, which makes me smile.

“As is tradition,” my father says, gesturing to Arthur, “we begin the celebration with a dance between Iris and her illustrious mate. Alpha President Arthur, if you would do us the honor?”

Arthur steps forward, bowing formally to my father before turning to me. He extends his hand, and I place mine in it, feeling the familiar warmth of his skin against mine.

As we take our places, the orchestra begins to play the opening notes of the waltz we’ve been practicing. Arthur draws me into the proper position, one hand on my waist, the other clasping mine. I place my free hand on his shoulder, remembering all of our instructions.

Chin up. Shoulders back. Frame strong but not stiff.

Eyes on my mate, and let everything else fall away.

“Ready?” Arthur asks softly.

I take a deep breath and nod. “Ready.”

And as the music swells, we begin to dance.