Chapter 197

Iris

My mother’s face is unusually grave. I know right away that something is wrong.

Alice glances between us, then clears her throat. “I should probably head out. It’s getting late, and you two clearly need some privacy.”

With that, Alice quickly leaves. My mother and I stand in silence for a few moments, her eyes flicking between me and the mural behind me, before I say softly, “What’s going on, Mom?”

She glances over her shoulder as if worried we might be overheard, then hurries forward and takes my hand. “It’s about Nora,” she whispers. “And the sapphires.”

My breath catches. Since our conversation weeks ago, my mother hasn’t mentioned anything about investigating Nora or the poisoned necklace. I’d almost begun to think she’d forgotten about it, or dismissed my suspicions as paranoia. Honestly, I’ve begun to dismiss them as such myself.

“I found something,” my mother says, reaching into her handbag. She pulls out a folded piece of paper and hands it to me. “In Nora’s room.”

I take the paper and unfold it with trembling fingers. It appears to be a handwritten recipe of some sort, with a list of ingredients and instructions. One line jumps out at me immediately: “Blue Hydrangea extract - 3 drops.”

“Is this…?” I look up at my mother, unable to finish the question.

She nods grimly. “A recipe for poison. The same poison that was in the sapphire.”

My stomach flips. “So she… She did do it?”

“It certainly looks that way,” my mother sighs. “I’ve been searching her room little by little, trying not to arouse suspicion. Today, I found this hidden in an old book on her shelf.”

“But why?” I ask, completely dumbfounded. “What could Nora possibly have to gain from poisoning Veronica and framing me?” Nora hardly even knows Veronica, let alone me.

My mother shakes her head. “I honestly don’t know. It makes no sense. Nora has been with our family for decades. She was there when both you and Caleb were born. She held my hand through labor, stayed by my side throughout everything. She was more like family than staff.”

“When did you find this?” I ask, holding up the paper.

“Just a little while ago,” my mother replies. “I came to tell you right away. And…” She hesitates, looking down at her hands. “And I think we should give her a chance to explain herself before we involve the authorities.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “You want to talk to her? After finding evidence that she tried to poison someone and potentially even frame me for it?”

“I know how it sounds,” my mother sighs. “But Iris, she’s been like a sister to me for most of my life. I can’t just throw her to the dogs without at least hearing her side of the story. I owe her that much.”

“Or maybe you’re hoping there’s some reasonable explanation…”

My mother’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “I suppose I am. Foolish, isn’t it?”

“No,” I say, reaching over to take her hand. “It’s understandable. Of course you want to believe the best of someone you care about.”

It’s strange to be on this side of the conversation for once—to be the one comforting rather than needing comfort. For so long, I’ve been the one making mistakes, being misjudged, needing others to have faith in me despite appearances. Now, it’s my mother who needs that understanding.

But it doesn’t negate the fact that Nora potentially committed a serious crime and framed me for it.

“When will you talk to her?” I find myself asking.

“I was thinking tomorrow morning,” my mother says with a firm nod. “Before the gala. I want this resolved one way or another before then.”

I consider this for a moment, then nod. It’s for the best. The gala needs to go smoothly if we’re going to have any chance of getting Arthur away from Veronica. We can’t afford any distractions or complications.

“And if she confesses? If she really did try to frame me?” I ask.

My mother’s expression hardens. “Then she’ll face the consequences. Family or not, I won’t let anyone hurt you, Iris. Not even Nora.”

The fierceness in her voice surprises me. Despite our relatively short time being reconnected, my mother’s protective instinct is strong. It’s a feeling I never thought I would have with anyone, and it still makes my head spin each time.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

My mother gives me a watery smile. “No need to thank me. It’s what mothers do.”

Finally, my mother comes to stand next to me and looks up at the mural. She studies it for a long moment, then says, “Is this meant to be symbolic? The girl walking into the ocean?”

I turn to look at my painting, seeing it suddenly through my mother’s eyes. A young girl, arms outstretched, stepping into the vast unknown of the ocean. Is it symbolic? I hadn’t consciously intended it to be, but perhaps subconsciously…

“Maybe,” I admit. “I just painted what felt right.”

“It’s beautiful,” my mother says. “Powerful.”

“It’s going to be the centerpiece of the gala,” I explain with a small curve of my lips. “We’re going to unveil it right before the auction.”

My mother nods absently, her eyes still fixed on the mural. But then she glances at me. “About the gala… Iris, are you sure you want to go through with this plan? With trying to save Arthur?”

The question catches me off guard. “You don’t think I should?”

“It’s not that,” my mother says carefully, turning fully to face me now. “I just want to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. That you’re not putting yourself through this out of some… obligation, or because you think you owe it to him.”

I open my mouth to respond, then close it again, considering her words. Why am I doing this? Really? Is it just for Arthur? For the man who abandoned me, who is set to marry another woman mere weeks after ending things with me, who accused me of lying about Miles’ paternity?

“I’m not doing it just for Arthur,” I finally say. “I’m doing it for Ordan. For all the people who depend on him to be a good leader. And…” I hesitate, then add quietly, “For Miles. So he knows I did everything I could to help the situation.”

My mother’s expression softens with understanding and, I think, perhaps a touch of pride. “That’s a worthy reason.”

“Besides,” I continue, “if Veronica really is manipulating him somehow, controlling him, then I want to help him. I still love him, even if I hate him right now.”

“You have a good heart, Iris,” my mother says. “Sometimes I think it’s too good for this world.”

“I don’t know about that.” I laugh lightly. “I’m just trying to do the right thing. Even when it’s hard.”

“Well,” my mother says then, “I should get going. Your father will be wondering where I am, and we both have a big day tomorrow.”

I nod and walk her out. As we reach the entrance, my mother turns to me, her expression serious once more.

“Be careful tomorrow night, Iris. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“I will,” I promise. “You too. Be careful when you talk to Nora. She might not be who we thought she was.”

My mother nods grimly. “I’ll let you know what happens as soon as I’ve spoken to her.”

She pulls me into a tight hug then, holding me close against her. I breathe in her familiar perfume, letting myself melt into her embrace. These moments still feel precious, still feel like making up for lost time. I never want to get used to it.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers into my hair. “You’ve grown into such a strong, compassionate woman. And after tomorrow, everyone will see that. They’ll see the real you.”

“I hope so,” I murmur, although I can’t help but admit—at least to myself—I’m not entirely convinced. Public opinion has turned against me so thoroughly that it’s hard to imagine one charity gala changing that, no matter how successful.

My mother pulls back and cups my face in her warm hands. “They will. And even if they don’t, it doesn’t matter. You know who you are. The people who love you know who you are. That’s what counts.”

And with that, she presses a kiss to my forehead, then steps back with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Iris.”

I watch her leave with a smile on my face but a sense of apprehension in my heart. I certainly hope we’ll see each other tomorrow… and under good circumstances.