Chapter 176

Iris

Arthur scrambles to his feet when he sees me, his mouth already opening to say something. I hold up my hand, cutting him off before he can even begin.

“Not here,” I hiss, sliding past him to take my seat.

“Iris, please,” he whispers as he sinks back into his chair beside me. “Just let me explain what happened.”

So he knows about the picture. He knows what he and Veronica were caught doing.

Somehow, knowing that he knows makes it that much worse. I’m not sure why, but it does, and I want to rail into him for being so foolish as to go out with her at three o’clock in the fucking morning.

But now isn’t the time or place to create a scene, especially not when other parents and guests are glancing at us, whispering behind their programs. They’re probably waiting for a blow-up between us, some with fear, others with apprehension, and many with sick glee.

I refuse to give Arthur or any of them the satisfaction, so I keep my eyes fixed firmly on the stage, my back ramrod straight in my chair. “Later. This is Miles’ night. I’m not letting our drama ruin it for him.”

“Of course,” Arthur agrees, sounding relieved that I’m at least willing to hear him out eventually. His hand moves toward mine on the armrest, but I snatch it away, folding my arms across my chest instead.

No. I might be willing to hear him out, but seeing his face now in person after that picture, I’m far too hurt and angry to touch him.

He’s just opening his mouth to say something else when the auditorium lights dim, and the principal walks onto the stage to welcome everyone. After her opening remarks, the talent show begins.

The first few acts pass in a blur. A cute little girl with pigtails plays the violin. Twin boys perform a comedy skit that makes me chuckle despite my anger. A small group of children sing a song about the alphabet, and one of them cries from stage fright, making the audience smile and laugh.

Finally, Miss Thompson announces Miles. “Our next performer will be playing ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ on the piano.”

My heart swells as my son walks onto the stage, looking so small beside the baby grand piano. He’s wearing the little suit my mother and I bought for him yesterday specifically for this occasion, and his dark hair is combed neatly to the side. Goddess, he looks so much like Arthur right now.

Stopping beside the piano, he bows formally to the audience, just as my father taught him, then climbs onto the bench.

For a moment, he just sits there, staring out over the audience with a deer in headlights expression.

I clutch my necklace, and I can’t help but notice Arthur sit up a little straighter beside me and nod encouragingly, both of us silently willing Miles to gather his courage.

But then, finally, at a nod from his teacher, Miles’ fingers find the keys, and the first notes of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” fill the auditorium.

It’s far from perfect. He misses a note here and there, and the tempo is uneven, and at one point he messes up, shakes his head, and says into the microphone, “I gotta start again.” And he does just that, making the audience ripple with laughter.

To me, it’s the most beautiful performance I’ve ever heard. And if Arthur’s rapt expression and the way he’s perched on the edge of his seat beside me are any indication, he feels the same way.

For those few minutes, I forget about Veronica and the photo and all the pain. I forget about my anger and my fear. I just watch my son, my little wolf, as he conquers his first big challenge in front of an audience. I just sit beside my mate, enjoying the moments that every family should cherish forever.

And when he finishes with a flourish and takes another bow, Arthur is the first person on his feet, clapping so loud it echoes through the auditorium. His enthusiasm is so infectious that it causes others to stand, too, and soon a standing ovation has begun.

“That’s my boy!” Arthur calls out over the din.

Miles’s face splits into a grin when he spots his father in the crowd, and my heart softens a little more. Dammit… How can I be angry with Arthur when he started a standing ovation? How can I be angry when our son looks at him like that?

After the show, I find Dr. Elliot just outside the auditorium, speaking with a group of parents. She spots me over their shoulders and excuses herself, coming to meet me with a warm smile.

“Miss Willford, what a delightful performance from Miles. You must be very proud.”

“I am,” I say, returning her smile. “He’s been practicing for weeks.”

“It showed. Now, what can I do for you?”

I reach into my purse and pull out the folder I’ve been carrying around all weekend. “I wanted to give you this. It’s the paperwork for the scholarship we discussed, along with a check for the first year.”

Dr. Elliot’s eyes widen as she takes the folder and flips it open. The check inside—drawn from my personal account, not Arthur’s—represents a significant portion of the money I earned from some recent art sales. But it’s worth it to know that a talented child who might not otherwise have the opportunity will be able to attend Wellington.

“This is… incredibly generous,” Dr. Elliot says, looking up at me. “Are you sure about the anonymity? You deserve recognition for this.”

I shake my head. “I’m sure.”

To my surprise, she pulls me into a hug. “Thank you,” she says warmly. “This will make such a difference.”

As I return her embrace, a weight I didn’t even realize I was carrying seems to lift from my shoulders. This feels right—doing good quietly, privately, without cameras or press releases or public scrutiny. Without trying to prove anything to anyone or boost my image as the future Luna.

If I’ll ever become the Luna.

I can’t help but wonder, assuming I don’t become Arthur’s Luna, if that might be for the best. Maybe I was never cut out to be a public figure like the President’s wife. And maybe, in a strange way, fate is drawing us apart and drawing him toward Veronica simply because this life as his Luna isn’t in my cards.

The thought makes my head spin uncomfortably.

With that, I make my way to the lobby to look for Miles. I find him surrounded by his friends, soaking up their praise with a smile that makes him look an awful lot like this father. When he spots me, he breaks away and runs to me, throwing his arms around my waist.

“Did you see me, Mommy? Did you hear me play? I only messed up three times!”

I laugh, lifting him into a hug and kissing his face all over. “I did see you, and I did hear you. You were incredible, little wolf.”

“Daddy said so too!” Miles exclaims, wiggling to be put down. He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the back of the room where Arthir is waiting. I gulp.

Miles is oblivious, thank the Goddess. “Daddy! Miss Thompson says I might be a pi…a pi…”

“A prodigy?” Arthur offers, and my stomach clenches at the word. Just like Veronica.

“Yeah! A prodigy!” Miles beams. “She says I should keep taking lessons!”

“That’s wonderful, sweetie,” I say, forcing a smile. “We’ll definitely look into that. But right now, I think it’s time to head home. It’s getting late, and you’ve had a big day.”

Miles whines softly, not wanting his exciting night to end. Truthfully, I just feel like I’m about to crack and I don’t want to do it in front of all these people. And I’m still furious every time I look at Arthur, as if that same angry presence in the back of my mind, the same one that broke Caleb’s phone, is surging up whenever our eyes lock.

I’m just about to turn away when Arthur clears his throat.

“Iris. We need to talk.”