Arthur’s Jaw tightens. “That’s not
“Excuse me,” a new voice interrupts, and we tum to see my father approaching. “Veronica, your mother is looking for you.”
Veronica’s smile never falters. “Of course, Uncle Francis. We’ll continue our chat later, Iris. I have so many family stories to share with you.” She glides away, the perfect picture of grace and poise. I feel breathless just watching her.
And yet, I can’t help but feel a little… off after that. Veronica’s Implication that Arthur is only with me for political connections shouldn’t bother me. After all, he chose me when he thought I was just a human artist with no connections at all. He made our relationship public, risking his reputation and position.
That’s why, when a tiny seed of doubt forms, I push it aside. This isn’t the time or the place, and I’m sure she didn’t mean it like
that.
For the next hour, my parents stay close, guiding me through the social minefield. I meet distant relatives, family friends, business associates, political allies–too many names and faces to possibly remember.
Some react with genuine delight at meeting me. Others are more reserved, clearly calculating what my existence means for their own interests. A few are openly hostile, although they hide it behind stiff smiles and formal greetings.
Through it all, I maintain my composure, drawing on every lesson ‘ve learned over the past few weeks. I smile warmly, laugh at all the right moments, respond to questions with carefully measured answers.
To my surprise, I find that I’m actually sort of good at this–or at least, I’m a quick learner.
Throughout the night, I catch glimpses of Arthur throughout the room. He’s in his element, moving smoothly through the crowd, every inch the Alpha President. Occasionally our eyes meet across the room, and he gives me a small, private smile that makes my heart race.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of socializing, my father steps into the center of the room and raises his hand. The crowd falls silent immediately.
“Friends, family, honored guests,” he begins, his voice carrying effortlessly through the vast space even with no microphone. Thank you all for joining us on this momentous occasion. As many of you know, our family has been blessed with a miracle- the return of our beloved daughter, Iris, who had been swapped at birth.”
I step forward to stand beside him, just as we practiced.
“For twenty–six years, we had no idea our daughter had been taken from us,” my father continues. “Today marks Iris’s official debut as a Willford- —a reclaiming of her birthright and her rightful place in our family and our society.”
Polite applause ripples through the crowd. My mother raises
smile.
her champagne toward me and shoots me a wink, which makes me
“As is tradition,” my father says, gesturing to Arthur, “we begin the celebration with a dance between Iris and her illustrious mate. Alpha President Arthur, if you would do us the honor?”
Arthur steps forward, bowing formally to my father before turning to me. He extends his hand, and I place mine in it, feeling the familiar warmth of his skin against mine.
As we take our places, the orchestra begins to play the opening notes of the waltz we’ve been practicing. Arthur draws me into the proper position, one hand on my waist, the other clasping mine. I place my free hand on his shoulder, remembering all of our instructions.
Chin up. Shoulders back. Frame strong but not stiff.
Eyes on my mate, and let everything else fall away.
“Ready?” Arthur asks softly.
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Chapter 233
I take a deep breath and nod. “Ready.”
And as the music swells, we begin to dance.
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