Chapter 190

Iris & Arthur

Iris

Veronica’s head snaps to the side from the force of my slap. Her golden hair whips around her face, and for a moment, we’re both frozen in shock—me, with my hand still raised, and her, with her perfectly manicured fingers flying to her reddening cheek.

I just slapped Veronica Willford. In the middle of the presidential office. In front of witnesses.

And Goddess help me, it felt. So. Good.

A strange sense of relief washes over me as I lower my hand. Like I’ve finally broken through some invisible barrier. Like I’ve stopped pretending that everything is fine when it clearly isn’t.

Like I’ve finally shown what I’m really capable of rather than rolling over and taking all the abuse that comes my way.

As I stare at Veronica clutching her face, something shifts in my perception. A veil has been lifted, and I can see her for what she truly is—not the perfect, sophisticated pianist or the charitable, kindhearted philanthropist.

No. She’s a snake.

Selina was right about her all along, I realize. About the car, about her anger at being passed over for Arthur’s contract marriage, about her facade. I don’t know how I missed it before. Maybe because I was too caught up in my own problems to see it. Maybe because I was too willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Whatever the reason, I see it now. Clear as day.

Perhaps Veronica got what she wanted—my mate, his wealth and status. But if she lets Arthur continue neglecting his duties because of his infatuation, she won’t have access to the wealth and power she covets so desperately. The country will fall apart, and so will Arthur’s position. So will her lifestyle.

“If you’re going to be Luna,” I say, leaning closer, “at least be a decent one. People depend on this administration. On Arthur. On you.”

Veronica’s hand slowly drops from her cheek, revealing an angry red handprint blooming across her pale skin. The sight should make me feel guilty, but strangely, it doesn’t. Rather, it fills me with a sense of righteous satisfaction, like I’ve just branded a mark of truth on her pretty little mask.

“You have no idea what you’ve just done,” she hisses.

“I have a pretty good idea,” I reply, straightening my spine. “I’ve just shown everyone exactly who you really are.”

That’s when Veronica seems to notice the small crowd that’s gathered in the hallway. Office workers, security guards, even a few politicians—all watching with wide eyes and open mouths. Some even have their phones out, recording everything.

Her eyes flicker with fear for a moment, then gutter into a void of pure black. Her lips begin to tremble, tugging downward. False tears begin to roll down her cheeks as she raises a shaking finger toward me.

“She hit me!” she cries. “Iris Willford hit me!”

The crowd murmurs, but I refuse to lower my eyes or shrink into myself. I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and start walking toward the exit.

Veronica’s sobs follow me, but I don’t look back. I stride down the hallway, head held high, ignoring the strange looks and whispers.

…

Arthur

I sit frozen behind my desk, mind racing as the door slams behind Iris. What just happened? What did I say to her? Why did I accuse her of infidelity with Ezra, of all people? Why did I imply Miles isn’t mine?

Fuck. Miles. My son. I just… I just disowned my own son.

No, not me. That wasn’t me speaking. It couldn’t have been. I would never say those things to Iris. I would never hurt her like that. I would never question Miles’ paternity or suggest that she trapped me.

I love her. I love them both.

So why did I say those things? Why am I sitting here in this unfamiliar office, surrounded by furniture I don’t recognize, with a woman I barely know claiming to be my fiancee?

Iris was right—I’ve been letting my duties slip because of this strange infatuation with Veronica. Bills are piling up unsigned. Meeting requests are being ignored. Reports are gathering dust. I’ve been neglecting the very oath I swore to uphold when I became President.

And for what? For shopping trips and expensive dinners? For redecorating an office that was perfectly fine before? For hiding away the portrait of my family that meant the world to me and replacing it with some abstract piece made by an artist I don’t even recognize?

Something is seriously wrong. With me. With this situation. With everything.

I need to fix this. I need to find Iris and apologize. I need to tell her that I didn’t mean any of it. That I love her. That there’s something happening to me that I don’t understand.

In a burst of clarity, my head suddenly clears. I remember the Solstice Ceremony, remember Veronica beckoning to me in that bedroom, remember her overwhelming scent taking over my senses.

It wasn’t real. None of it was real. The mate bond, the love, the desire—all of it was manufactured somehow. Manipulated. And I fell for it.

I rise from my chair so quickly that it topples backward, crashing against the wall. “Iris,” I call out, even though I know she can’t hear me. “Iris!”

I need to find her. I need to explain. I need to beg for her forgiveness before it’s too late.

Without another thought, I sprint toward the door, flinging it open with enough force to make it crash against the wall. I charge into the hallway, looking wildly in both directions.

But the hallway is filled with people, all staring at something down near the elevator. I push my way through the crowd, my heart pounding in my chest.

Please still be here. Please don’t be gone. Please, please, please…

I break through just in time to see the elevator doors sliding closed, one last glimpse of Iris’s face disappearing behind them. She looks… murderous. And it’s my fault.

“No!” I shout, lunging forward, but it’s too late. The doors have closed. She’s gone.

For a moment, I stand there, frozen. Then I turn, intending to race for the stairs, to catch her in the lobby before she leaves the building. But before I can take a single step, Veronica throws herself into my arms, sobbing dramatically.

“Arthur!” she wails, burying her face against my chest. “She hit me! Did you see? She hit me!”

She tilts her head to show me the red, angry welt in the shape of a handprint on her cheek, and… Good. Part of me—the part that’s finally breaking free of whatever fog has been clouding my mind—is glad Iris slapped her. Proud, even.

I try to push Veronica away, but she clings to me, her wails rising into the quiet space. “Arthur, you have to do something! She assaulted your Luna!”

Everyone is staring, waiting to see how I’ll react. The Alpha President, caught between his new fiancee and his former mate. Between the woman sobbing in his arms and the woman who just walked away with her dignity intact.

It’s not even a choice.

“Veronica,” I say, firmly removing her arms from around my neck, “I need to go after Iris.”

Her sobs cut off abruptly, like someone flipped a switch. “What?” Her voice is dangerously low now.

“You heard me,” I whisper. “This has gone on long enough. Whatever you’ve done to me, whatever drug you’ve been slipping into my morning coffee, it’s over.”

Veronica’s eyes narrow, and for a brief moment, I see something hateful flash across her features. Then she smiles.

“Is that what you think?” she asks softly. “That I slipped something into your coffee?”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words will come as Veronica pulls me down to her level by my tie. That scent overwhelms me again, that sweet, tantalizing scent.

“Mate. Mate. Mate. MATE!”

My mouth opens again, then closes, like a fish out of water. Iris… No… Veronica…

“Oh, Arthur,” Veronica whispers, her red lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I’m not putting anything in your coffee.”