Chapter 223

Iris

The digital clock on our nightstand reads 2:47 AM, but neither of us seems keen on sleeping. We haven’t said much since we got home from the party, put Miles to bed, and climbed into our own—just laid here, staring up at the dark ceiling.

Arthur lies beside me, his hands folded over his stomach, eyes fixed on the ceiling. I’m on my side facing him now, watching the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

“Say something,” I finally whisper, unable to bear the silence any longer. He hasn’t said much at all since Alfred told him the truth about his father’s affair.

Arthur sighs heavily. “What is there to say? My father had an affair. He fathered a child. He denied that child when confronted.” He turns his head to look at me. “And now that child is trying to destroy my career.”

I reach out to touch his arm, feeling the tension in his bicep. Arthur doesn’t usually get like this unless it’s really serious. “I know it’s a lot to process,” I say gently.

“That’s an understatement,” he mutters with a wry laugh, turning back to stare at the ceiling. “I just can’t believe it. My father, of all people? Having an affair?”

“It does seem out of character,” I agree. Leonard has always been so proper, so concerned with appearances and family legacy. The idea of him risking all that for an affair is surprising, to say the least.

“Out of character?” Arthur lets out another humorless chuckle. “It’s more than that. My entire childhood, all I heard from him was how important loyalty and honor are. How we must always act with integrity. And all this time…” He trails off, shaking his head.

I think back to the few interactions I’ve had with Leonard. “Integrity” doesn’t really seem to describe the Leonard I know; he’s always been cold and judgmental toward me and Miles, always looking down his nose at me because he thought I was a human who was ruining his grandson’s legacy.

The revelation about his affair certainly doesn’t make me think any more highly of him, and it takes me by less surprise than it seems to be Arthur. All it does is add a layer of hypocrisy to his holier-than-thou attitude.

“When do you think it happened?” I ask softly.

Arthur is quiet for a moment, doing the mental math. “I think Silas is about my age, maybe a year or two younger. So it would have been… when I was a toddler, I guess. Around three.”

I try to imagine it: a younger Leonard carrying on an affair while his wife cared for their young son at home. It makes my stomach churn. I wonder if Wendy knew, or if she was kept in the dark all these years just like Arthur was.

“Did you ever notice anything… off… about your parents’ marriage as a child?” I muse. “Anything that might have hinted at problems?”

Arthur scoffs. “You know my parents, Iris. They never seemed happy with each other. I always knew they married each other more for power and money and good genetics rather than love.”

We fall silent again, each lost in our own thoughts.

“What I don’t understand,” I say after a minute, “is what we saw tonight. If Leonard denied Silas and refused to acknowledge him as his son, why were they talking at the party? And they didn’t look like they were arguing, either.”

Arthur frowns. “What do you mean?”

“When we saw them after midnight, they were standing close together, heads bent, like they were conspiring about something.” I recall the image clearly—Leonard and Silas in the shadowy corner, so comfortable with each other, so familiar. Not at all like two people with the bitter history Alfred described. “It didn’t look like the first time they’d spoken, either. They seemed… at ease with each other.”

“You think Alfred was lying?”

I consider this for a moment, then shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. He seemed genuinely hurt by what happened with Silas, genuinely regretful about abandoning him. And he gave us the information so willingly. I don’t think he would make up a story like that.”

“Then what? My father has had a change of heart? Suddenly decided to acknowledge Silas after all these years?” Arthur scoffs. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Maybe,” I muse, “it’s not about acknowledging him publicly. Maybe it’s something else entirely.”

Arthur turns to face me fully, his interest piqued. “Like what?”

“I don’t know exactly, but… what if they’re working together somehow? What if Leonard is actually supporting Silas’ campaign against you?”

The idea feels outrageous yet somehow plausible. Arthur stares at me, his expression shifting from disbelief to consideration.

“But that makes no sense,” he finally says. “Why would my father back my opponent? His own illegitimate son, no less, against his legitimate one? He’s always been so concerned with our family legacy, with me following in his footsteps. He was practically grooming me for political office from the time I could walk. I’m in office now. Why try to unseat me?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.” I recall how Leonard seemed to know so much about personal things, like the she-wolf. Is he spying on us, somehow? “I wonder if he somehow got wind of you potentially planning not to run in the next election.”

“How would he have known about that? I only spoke to you about it in private a couple of times.”

I drag my lower lip through my teeth. “You know, your father was asking me about Miles’ abilities tonight. Specific questions about his dreams and his visions. He even knew about the she-wolf, Arthur. How could he know that unless someone told him?”

Arthur’s face hardens. “You think he’s been listening to our conversations somehow?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But it’s too much of a coincidence. First Silas makes that comment about me not being able to shift, then your father shows up asking pointed questions about Miles’ dreams and the she-wolf? Something’s going on.”

Arthur huffs. “If they’re after Miles, if they’re planning something that involves our son…”

He doesn’t finish the thought, but he doesn’t need to. The idea that Leonard and Silas might have some sort of design on Miles makes my blood run cold. I think of my mother’s warnings about Dreamers, about how children with such abilities have historically been sought after, used as tools by those in power.

“We need to be careful,” I say firmly. “Maybe we should take Miles away for a while. Back to the ranch, maybe, where it’s safe.”

Arthur’s jaw clenches. “I’ll confront my father first before I run away like a coward.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” I ask. “If he is planning something, tipping him off could make things worse.”

“I don’t care,” Arthur says firmly. “This has gone on long enough. The secrets, the manipulation, the lies. I want the truth, and I’m going to get it. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to see him and demand an explanation.”

I can see there’s no talking him out of it. And honestly, I’m not sure I want to. Leonard has been a shadow hanging over our lives for too long. If confronting him might finally bring some clarity, some resolution, then maybe it’s worth the risk.