Chapter 195

Iris

“So what’s your plan, exactly?” I ask Ezra. “Get Arthur away from Veronica and then what? Lock him in a room until he comes to his senses?”

Ezra frowns. “I’m not entirely sure yet. But I’ve been thinking—we need to create a situation where Arthur has no choice but to show up. Something very… public. But it has to be something so important, so high-profile that even in his… current state, he wouldn’t dare miss it.”

I consider this. “Like what? Another gala?”

Ezra nods. “Exactly like that. A charity gala, maybe. We’ll schedule it for the night Arthur and Veronica are supposed to return from their trip.”

My lips purse. “I already decided not to throw more of those. They don’t end well for me.”

“You don’t have to publicly endorse it,” he says. “You can keep your name separate from it completely. It just needs to be big.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, considering. Slowly, tentatively, a plan begins to form. My family would certainly support something like this, but if it’s going to be a huge event that Arthur can’t ignore, we’ll need more than that.

Finally, I say, “Call a meeting. Invite all of the biggest donors from my last charity gala. We should also invite the principals of every school in Ordan—public and private. Oh, and every orphanage director in the city, too.”

Ezra blinks in surprise. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” I say, surprised by his question. “This isn’t just about getting Arthur back, Ezra. It’s about doing something good for Ordan. Even if Arthur doesn’t show up, even if this plan fails completely, at least we’ll have tried to make a difference.”

Ezra nods slowly, then rises. He stands a little straighter, and for the first time since he showed up at my door, he looks like the confident, capable Beta I remember. He gives me a small nod of respect and says, “Yes, Luna.”

By the time I arrive at Marsiel Gallery the following afternoon, I’m practically sweating from nerves. I haven’t spoken in front of a large group since the disastrous press conference after the last gala.

What if I freeze up again? What if no one takes me seriously?

Alice meets me at the entrance with a beaming smile. “Everyone’s here,” she whispers. “And I mean everyone. Ezra works fast.”

Taking a deep breath, I step into the main exhibition hall, which has been cleared of its usual displays to accommodate rows of chairs, most of which are already filled. I recognize many faces from my previous charity event—wealthy donors, social elites, people who had smiled and written checks when Arthur and I were briefly the golden couple of Ordan.

But there are new faces too. Stern-looking principals from Ordan’s most prestigious private schools, sitting awkwardly next to their counterparts from the public system. Directors from the city’s orphanages, including Giulia, who gives me a warm nod as our eyes meet. The art teachers I interviewed earlier this year. Hunter and several other elites from the art world are also in attendance.

Ezra stands at the front of the room, fielding questions and managing the crowd. When he spots me, he excuses himself and makes his way over.

“They’re ready for you,” he says quietly. “Remember our talking points. And just be yourself. There are no cameras here.”

“Think of it like you’re giving one of your art lectures,” Alice adds, nudging me with a soft smile.

With a nod, I square my shoulders and walk to the front of the room. A hush falls over the crowd as I take my place at the podium that Alice has set up.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” I begin, leaning too close to the microphone and causing it to screech. I cringe, and the crowd murmurs.

Off to a wonderful start.

Briefly, I look around the room, and my stomach drops. I mostly just see skepticism, and in some cases, outright suspicion. These people know about my fall from grace. They’ve read the tabloids, heard the rumors. They’re wondering what the disgraced almost-Luna, the alleged “Jewel Killer”, could possibly want from them.

“I… I’m here to propose a new charity initiative,” I finally manage. “One that I believe could make a real difference in the lives of Ordan’s children, especially those who might not otherwise have access to the arts.”

At that, the crowd seems at least somewhat intrigued. Bolstered by an encouraging smile from Hunter, I outline my idea: a program that would provide free art classes to children from all backgrounds, right here at Marsiel Gallery. Classes would be held weekly, taught by professional artists—including myself—and open to any child who wants to participate.

“Art saved me when I was a child,” I say, feeling my confidence slowly return. “Growing up in an orphanage, I didn’t have much, but I had paper and pencils. Drawing gave me an escape, a way to express myself when words failed me.”

I see Giulia nod in agreement, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“But this program isn’t just meant to provide an outlet for creativity,” I continue. “I’ve spoken with Dr. Elliot, the principal of Wellington Academy, and she has agreed to set aside five scholarships per year for our program. The top five performers per year will be given a full ride to Wellington.”

This is true—I called her last night, and after some discussion about funding, she agreed. Most of it will be funded by me, but it’s the least I can do with my portion of the Willford fortune that has been sitting, largely untouched, in my bank account since my debut.

“But I can’t do this alone,” I admit to the crowd. “I need your support—not just financial, although that’s important, but your active participation. School principals, I need your help identifying children who would benefit from this program. Orphanage directors, I need your insights into what these kids really need. Donors, I need your belief that this is a cause worth supporting. And artists…”

I glance at Hunter, at all of the other Ordan artists sitting in the crowd… even at Bella, the artist who was cruel to me and my son at my residency presentation.

I take a deep breath and continue, “Artists, I need your time. Because if this program comes to fruition, it will be us who provide free lessons and classes to the children of Ordan.”

The artists murmur amongst themselves, but none protest. Even Bella, albeit begrudgingly, tilts her head and listens intently.

“To launch this initiative, I’m proposing a charity gala, to be held two weeks from now, here at Marsiel Gallery,” I continue. “All proceeds will go directly to funding the program, with complete transparency about how every penny is spent.”

I don’t mention that the date coincides with Arthur’s return, or my secret plan with Ezra. I don’t need to—this meeting is about the charity, nothing else. I’m doing this because I genuinely want to run the program, not because of anything else.

Finally, I finish speaking and the room falls silent. Painfully silent. I scan the faces looking back at me, trying to gauge their reactions. Some look thoughtful, others skeptical. Did I miss the mark? Was my idea too ambitious? Too naive?

The silence goes on for what feels like an eternity, although in reality it’s probably only a few seconds. And then, to my surprise, Giulia stands up.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” she says firmly. “The children at my orphanage would benefit tremendously from such a program.”

Dr. Elliot rises next. “Wellington Academy is proud to support this initiative. The arts are a crucial part of a well-rounded education, and all children deserve access to them.”

One by one, other voices join in. The principal of Ordan’s largest public school. The director of the children’s museum. Several of the donors who had supported my previous charity efforts. Even Bella agrees to help teach classes, so long as she can put it on her social media.

Relief overcomes my earlier fear. They like the idea. They support it. They want to be part of it.

I catch Ezra’s eye across the room, and he gives me a small nod of approval. A warm sense of pride fills my chest—not just for the positive response to my idea, but for taking this step. For doing something that matters, something bigger than just getting Arthur back.

Despite everything, I can’t help but smile.