Chapter 35 35

Chapter 35 35
IRIS QUINN

Once the meeting had ended, people stood, gathering folders and phones while exchanging polite nods and murmured conversations as they filed toward the door. I stayed seated, my hands flat on the table, staring at the empty space where Aaron had stood giving his presentation.

I felt humiliated and disappointed in myself for my inability to protect what my father did his best to build. Somehow, I found myself still processing the fact that Caesar had raised his hand, hating that I’d even expected him not to.

He was a Laurent, after all.

I expected him to leave first, to follow his father out like he always did, but he stayed instead. The door closed behind the last board member, and suddenly it was just the two of us in the room. I forced myself to stand, pulling my bag closer and shoving papers into it without really looking at what I was doing.

“So how do you feel now that you’ve lost everything?” he asked quietly in a way that felt nearly conversational.

I stopped moving, my hand still gripping a folder I’d been about to slide into my bag.

“What did you just say?” I asked without turning around.

“I asked how you feel,” he repeated. “Now that you’ve lost everything.”

I turned slowly. He was still sitting, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“You’re a coward,” I said, setting the folder down.

He nodded, more to himself. “Probably.”

“You’re just his dog. That’s all you are. You sit and stay and raise your hand when he tells you to.”

I waited for him to snap, instead, he let out a dry hacking sound that made me uneasy. “You think I don’t know?” he asked.

“You’re not telling me anything new, Iris.”

I stepped closer, my hands clenched into fists. “You didn’t have to vote. You could have abstained. You could have—”

“Could have what?” He tilted his head slightly. “Opposed my father in front of the entire board? Undermined the merger just to make you feel better?”

“Yes!”

“And then what?” he sounded maddeningly calm. “You think opposing him would have changed the outcome? You think it would have saved Aurora?”

“It would have meant something.”

“It would have meant nothing.” He stood now, slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re angry at me because I’m honest. Because I’m not pretending you were ever in control.”

“I was in control of my father’s company—”

“No, you weren’t.” He stepped closer. “Your father was. And when he died, my father was. You were never in control, Iris. You were just the name on the door.”

Heat rushed to my face when I found myself almost believing him. “I don’t care what you say. You didn’t have to raise your hand.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because it was the smart move.” He stepped in, closing the gap until the space between us felt like a pressurized chamber. “And you know why.”

“Because you’re weak.”

The word sat there, ugly and heavy.

Caesar looked unfazed even as his eyes went flat, the light in them just... dying. He moved into my space, forcing me to crane my neck just to see him. He didn't say a word, but he was so close I could feel the air off his breath. He wasn't just standing there; crowding me out of the room.

“You want to know what weak looks like?” he inched closer than I thought was possible. “It looks like you. Sitting there like the world owes you mercy because your father died.”

My hand moved before I could even process the thought.

The slap was too loud, the sound of it echoing off the walls and dying instantly. I expected him to stumble, or yell, or at least flinch. Instead, his head just jerked to the side and stayed there.

We both stood frozen in the silence.

Slowly, he turned his head back. He didn't look angry; he looked like he was holding back. The red print of my fingers started to rise on his skin, a contrast to how pale he’d gone.

Before I could even drop my hand, he reached out and caught my wrist, tethering me to him. I tried to pull back, but it was like being bolted to the floor.

“Do it again,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Hit me.”

My chest heaved, my breath coming too fast.  I wanted to.

God, I wanted to hit him again.

But I couldn’t move.

He let go of my wrist and stepped back, running a hand through his hair before letting out a long exhale.

“You still don’t get it,” he said. “You’re going to lose it piece by piece. Aurora. The company. Your father’s office.”

“Stop—”

“And then,” he continued, almost whispering, “my father is going to demand even more from you.”

I frowned. “What?”

His mouth tightened, the next words coming out like he found it disgusting. “A child.”

My stomach twisted like I’d been poisoned as I took a step back without meaning to, my skin crawling.

“Or did you forget?” he asked. “My father expects a grandchild. And there are consequences if you don’t deliver.”

I stepped back, shaking my head. “You’re insane.”

“I’m realistic.”

“Over my dead body,” I said, my voice rising. “Over my dead body will I carry your child.”

“Then you won’t survive my father,” he said quietly. “Because he doesn’t make empty threats. And neither do I.”

“You think I’m going to just—what? Lie down and let you—”

“I don’t think anything, Iris.” He stepped closer again. “I know how this ends. You can fight it. You can scream about it. But it doesn’t change what’s already been decided.”

“Nothing’s been decided.”

“Everything’s been decided.” He leaned in slightly. “You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

I stared at him, my hands shaking, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.

“I hate you,” I whispered.

“You’ve said that already.”

“I will never give you a child. I will never give him that satisfaction.”

Caesar’s expression didn’t change. “Then you’ll lose everything that’s left. And when you have nothing to your name you’ll realize you never had a choice to begin with.”

He stepped back and straightened his jacket. “Go home, Iris. Before you do something you can’t undo.”

I looked up at him, my wrist still tingling where he’d grabbed it, my chest tight with rage and the painful feeling of losing.

“I already did,” I whispered. “I married you.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. He looked at me like he was seeing the ghost of the girl he’d trapped, and for a second, the mark on his cheek seemed to burn a deeper red.

I grabbed my bag and walked toward the door, my legs shaking, my vision blurring at the edges.

I didn’t look back.

But I felt his eyes on me the entire way out.