Chapter 203

Iris

Everything went wrong. So terribly, horribly wrong.

Ezra had finally found proof of Veronica’s embezzlement scheme that had been going on for years. Documents showing suspicious transfers from her charity’s funds into offshore accounts, falsified tax records, and receipts from expensive purchases made in her charity’s name but shipped to addresses overseas. Expensive food, jewelry, furniture, clothing.

For years, Veronica has been using the Ordan Public School Fund to afford her extravagant lifestyle. And Ezra had the proof.

He was going to expose her tonight, right there at the gala in front of everyone while I was handling Arthur privately. It was a perfect, foolproof plan. We had everyone who mattered in Ordan gathered in one place. The damage to her reputation would have been irreparable.

But somehow, she knew what was coming. She must have known. Because just as Arthur was clearing his head and Ezra was about to reveal Veronica’s crimes to the public, the police stormed in and arrested us both.

They think we plotted to kill her. They believe the poison in the sapphire was our doing—mine and Ezra’s. And worst of all, they actually think Miles is Ezra’s son, not Arthur’s. That Veronica somehow discovered this “truth,” and that we wanted to silence her. Permanently.

The very notion of it is so absurd that I would laugh if I weren’t so angry. Miles is the spitting image of Arthur, right down to that stubborn curl that falls over his forehead—the same curl that Selina and now Veronica tamed. Anyone with eyes can see the resemblance; Miles looks more like Arthur than he does me.

I let out a frustrated sigh. I’ve said nothing since we arrived except to ask for a lawyer and a phone call. Ezra, who is no fool despite our current circumstances, also requested a lawyer.

Suddenly, an officer approaches my cell. “Miss Willford, you may make your phone call now.”

Finally.

He unlocks the cell door and leads me down a hallway, passing by cells filled with drunkards and predators who jeer and whistle at me, to a small room with a single phone mounted on the wall. “Make it quick,” he says before stepping outside, although he remains visible through a small window in the door, so I know he’s watching me.

My hands shake slightly as I dial my father’s number. Three rings, four, five… I’m about to give up when he finally answers.

“Hello?”

“Dad, it’s me.” I press the receiver closer to my ear, lowering my voice slightly. “I’ve been arrested.”

“What? Iris, what happened?”

“They showed up at the gala with a warrant,” I say, glancing at the officer watching through the window. “Now they think Ezra and I conspired to poison Veronica. It’s complete nonsense, as you well know, but they’ve got us at the police station downtown.”

“Those fuckers. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” my father says immediately. “I’ll bring our lawyer, too. Just don’t say anything until we arrive, okay?”

“I won’t,” I promise. Then, realizing something, I ask, “Where’s Mom, by the way? Is she with you?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line before my father answers, “No, she’s not. I thought she was at the gala with you.”

My stomach drops. “What do you mean? She wasn’t there tonight.”

“She said she had to talk to Nora about something and was going to meet me at your event after. Was she not there?”

I feel sick. So my mother did confront Nora after all. But if she never made it to the gala…

“Dad,” I say, “can you call her first? Check on her?”

“What do you mean? Iris, what’s going on?”

I can’t explain, not with the officer still watching me, and I’m certain this phone call is being monitored. So I carefully reply, “Just call her for me, will you? Please?”

“Alright,” he says after a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll give her a call.”

“Time’s up,” the officer suddenly interrupts, opening the door. “Let’s go, Miss Willford.”

I barely have time to say goodbye to my father before the officer takes the phone from my hand and escorts me back to my cell. As the heavy door clangs shut behind me, fear grips my heart. My mother could be in danger. What if Nora did something to her? What if she’s hurt, or worse?

No. Nora is an old woman, and she has been friends with my family for decades. Perhaps she schemed to poison Veronica for some reason, but she would never hurt my mother, the woman whose side she remained by all throughout two pregnancies, deliveries, and childhood upbringings.

Time passes far too slowly for my liking, or so it feels. The minutes seem to turn into hours as I pace my cell. My blue dress is now wrinkled, and I keep shivering beneath it. I shouldn’t be here; I should be back at the gala, by Arthur’s side. Veronica is the one who belongs in a cell. Not me.

Veronica.

The very thought of her name makes my blood boil, and for a split second, I swear I can see the she-wolf standing in the corner with her fangs bared.

I’ve tried to explain to the police multiple times that she was drugging Arthur somehow with the perfume he mentioned, but no one will listen to me. They keep saying that I’m just making stuff up, grasping at straws to take the blame off of myself.

For a brief moment, I allow myself to think about what has ensued since I left the gala. The last thing I saw was Veronica kissing my mate. Is he still clouded over now? Or has he broken through the fog and exposed her?

Just as I’m about to lose my mind with worry, I hear the sound of the outer door opening. Footsteps approach, and then a different officer appears outside my cell.

“Willford,” he says gruffly. “You’re free to go. Bail’s been posted.”

Relief floods through me as the cell door swings open. I don’t wait for further instructions, just rush past the officer toward the booking area where I assume my parents are waiting.

But when I reach the front of the station, it’s only my father standing there. Ezra is already with him, disheveled but unharmed.

“Dad,” I breathe, hurrying toward him. “Did you find Mom?”

He shakes his head, and my heart plummets. “I called a few times and no answer,” he says. “You’re sure she wasn’t at the gala?”

“Yes,” I reply tersely. My mother would have also followed me out when she saw I was being arrested. “What about Nora?”

“Nora is probably at the house, as usual,,” my father replies. He furrows his brow. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why are you so worried?”

“We need to go to the house,” I say, already moving toward the door. “Now.”