Chapter 211

Iris

No matter how much I’d like to remain in a sweet little bubble of dancing to records and listening to Arthur’s heartbeat, unfortunately the world doesn’t stop spinning just because my personal drama has been temporarily resolved. Over the days following Nora and Veronica’s arrests, life continues on, albeit with new complications.

Veronica’s embezzlement scheme is the first thing to be fully uncovered. When Ezra presented the evidence he found to the appropriate authorities, they wasted no time launching a full investigation into her finances. What they found was far worse than anyone expected.

For years, Veronica has been diverting funds from her charity into offshore accounts. Money that was meant to supply impoverished schools with art supplies, music programs, and updated textbooks instead went toward her lavish lifestyle: designer clothes, exotic vacations, and that ridiculous penthouse apartment that cost more per month than most people in Ordan make in a year.

The cherry on top was when investigators discovered that she’d pocketed nearly all of the proceeds from the charity gala I organized before the Solstice Ceremony. Only forty percent of the funds we raised outside of Veronica’s exorbitant “operating costs” actually went to the schools.

All of this, combined with Arthur’s experience, made for a quick and violent public trial.

When Caleb gave her her sentence—fifteen years in a minimum-security prison with no possibility of parole for at least ten—I didn’t feel the satisfaction I expected. Just a hollow relief that she can’t hurt anyone else, at least for a while.

The charity itself has been salvaged, thankfully. A board of directors has taken over its management, and they’ve already begun distributing funds to the schools that desperately need them. It’s a small comfort in the midst of all this ugliness.

Nora’s story, however, is what truly breaks my heart.

Her trial was just as quick as Veronica’s, but somehow even painful. She opted to represent herself, which we found odd; but we quickly realized why when she immediately confessed to everything the very first day in court, sparing no detail as she recounted how she switched me with Selina at birth.

“They were both crying,” she said on the witness stand. “The hospital was understaffed that night. Nobody was paying attention. It was so easy to swap the ID bracelets when the nurses weren’t looking.”

The whole courtroom sat in stunned silence as she explained her motives. Selina was her real daughter, an unexpected pregnancy that she kept hidden from everyone. She gave birth in the hospital bathroom when my mother was resting after her labor.

Apparently, Nora had always felt slighted, always felt like an outsider in the Willford household despite how much my parents claimed to see her as family. She wanted her daughter to have the advantages she’d never had—wealth, education, status.

She’d convinced herself that she deserved it, that she was owed this after years of service to the Willfords. As if my parents hadn’t treated her with the utmost trust and respect for decades.

“When Iris came back,” Nora continued, “I was terrified. I knew it was only a matter of time before the truth came out, before Maeve and Francis realized what I’d done.”

And so, when Veronica approached her with a scheme to get rid of me, Nora jumped at the chance. They plotted together, feeding off each other’s resentment—Veronica’s toward Arthur for rejecting her in favor of Selina years ago and now me, and Nora’s toward my entire family for what she perceived as a lifetime of condescension.

The poisoned sapphire was meant to frame me, to destroy my reputation beyond repair, to drive me away from Ordan once again—or worse, to drive me to take my own life. She hoped that, if I were out of the picture, Selina would be reinstated as the Willford heir.

When that failed, and my mother found out about her crimes and confronted her, she snapped. She stabbed my mother in a panic and tried to make a run for it. If it weren’t for Arthur coming to the rescue that night, I’m not sure where she would be by now.

Surprisingly, my reputation has mostly recovered in the weeks since the truth came out. The media has shifted its narrative, painting me as the wronged heroine who persevered despite the odds.

The Jewel Killer moniker has all but disappeared, replaced by much kinder, if somewhat patronizing, nicknames: “The Resilient Luna,” “Ordan’s Artistic Heart,” and my personal least favorite, “Little Orphan Iris.”

There are still skeptics, of course. People who still claim that I’m a hypocrite for my charity work, that I’m only doing it for the publicity or to distract from my past scandals. Some people still call me a champagne socialist. But these voices grow quieter with each passing day, especially as the children’s art program at Marsiel Gallery gains traction.

We’ve already enrolled our first class of students—twenty children from various orphanages and underprivileged schools around Ordan. Seeing their faces light up when they walk into the gallery for the first time, when they hold a real paintbrush or stand in front of a blank canvas, makes all the criticism worth it.

I’ve kept my promise to myself, though. I refuse to use my position as Arthur’s soon-to-be wife for personal gain. My work at the gallery remains separate from my role as Luna-to-be. I don’t give interviews about the art program, don’t pose for photo ops, don’t allow my name to be prominently featured in any of the promotional materials. And I’ve kept my scholarship fund at Wellington a secret, too.

Arthur, for his part, has thrown himself back into his presidential duties with renewed vigor. He spent the first week after Veronica’s arrest holed up in his office, catching up on all the work he’d neglected during his time under her influence. Reports were read, legislation was signed, meetings were attended.

To his credit, there were no major issues that arose due to his absence. His team had managed to keep things running smoothly behind the scenes, deflecting questions and making excuses for Arthur’s strange behavior. Even Ezra did his best to help despite temporarily being fired from his position as Beta. It’s yet another reason why Arthur immediately reinstated him as Beta with a formal ceremony and a public apology.

Our personal life has settled pleasantly as well. Miles is thriving now that his father is home, back to his old boisterous self, chattering away at the breakfast table and showing off his latest school projects. Arthur makes it a point to be home for dinner every night, no matter how busy his day has been.

We haven’t set a wedding date yet. With everything else going on, it hasn’t seemed like the right time. But Arthur wears a small smile whenever the topic comes up, and I find myself daydreaming about white dresses and flower arrangements more often than I’d like to admit.

For now, though, I’m content. My family is whole. My mate is by my side. My son is happy. My art is flourishing. What more could I possibly ask for?

Well, there is one small wrinkle in my otherwise smooth existence. It’s been nearly six weeks since that night in the hospital corridor when Arthur proposed, six weeks of rebuilding our life together, six weeks of healing old wounds and creating new memories.

And it’s been six weeks since my last period.