Chapter 38 38

Chapter 38 38
IRIS QUINN

I woke up to sunlight burning through my eyelids and a headache that felt like someone had taken a hammer to the inside of my skull. I groaned and rolled over, squinting against the light.

Caesar sat behind his desk, a sprawl of white paper and the glow of a laptop illuminating the sharp angles of his face. He wasn’t working. He was watching me, his gaze devoid of warmth.

“You smell like a distillery,” he said, his voice flat.

The room tilted as I forced myself upright. “So?”

“You smell like him, too.”

I rubbed my knuckles into my eyes, trying to burn through the hangover fog. “Is this a jealousy thing, or do you just hate Aaron?”

He said nothing. He just pivoted to his screen, the tapping of his keys dismissing me.

I stumbled toward the bathroom, the click of the door latch creating a barrier between me and Caesar.

Under the shower, the fragments of the day before began to come back to me: the neon of the bar, Aaron’s low laugh and the leather of his car seats. Then, the jagged memory of Caesar and the sudden weight of his arms as he hauled me away from Aaron and inside the house.

I pressed my head against the tile until the cold seeped in. By the time I came out, the room was empty. Caesar was gone. I pulled on a blouse with trembling hands and headed downstairs, my stomach a knotted mess of regret and bile.

When I reached the living room, I stopped. Caesar was standing near the fireplace, arms crossed while victor sat in his usual chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand even though it was barely ten in the morning.

He looked up when he saw me, his expression sharp and irritated.

“Sit down,” he said.

I hesitated, then sat on the edge of the couch. Victor picked up a phone from the table beside him and threw it at me.

Victor watched me with what I could only identify as anger as I fumbled with the device. “Read it slowly,” he commanded. “I want to see your face when you realize what your family has done.”

I looked down. The news article was already open, the headline screaming in all caps. RICHARD QUINN’S DEATH UNDER INVESTIGATION. Underneath, the subhead mentioned “allegations of foul play.”

The fog in my head from the night before vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, sharp terror. As I scrolled, the story got worse. It suggested his death was a play by someone with enough power to make murder look like a natural end.

My stomach turned like I was about to throw up all the alcohol. “What is this?” I whispered.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Victor said. “What have you done, Iris?”

I looked up at Victor, the phone still vibrating in my trembling grip. He already knew. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Someone did.” Though he sounded calm, there was an edge to his words. “And the story came from somewhere.”

“I don’t know anything about this,” I said, blinking faster as though it’d make the story make more sense. “I didn’t leak anything. I didn’t—”

“We tracked it,” Victor interrupted. “The nurse who treated your father said she was paid. And it was through an account connected to your mother’s charity foundation.”

How… how could that possibly be?

“What?” I stared at him. “That’s—no. My mother wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t she?” Victor leaned forward slightly. “After all I’ve done for your family? This is how she repays me? By spreading lies?”

“She didn’t do this,” I said firmly. “My mother isn’t that reckless.”

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know!”

Victor leaned back, crossing his legs as he pointed a finger at me. “If I find out you knew about this, Iris, you’re done. Do you understand?”

I nodded, my throat tight. He gestured toward the door. “Get out of my sight.”

I stood, dropping the phone onto the couch, and walked quickly toward the stairs. My hands were shaking as I pulled out my own phone and dialed my mother.

She answered on the third ring. “Iris?”

“What did you do?” I demanded, rubbing my chest that seemed like a fire had started inside.

“What are you talking about?”

“The articles about Dad. Victor said it came from a nurse who was paid through your charity foundation.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“I didn’t do anything like that,” she said. “Do you really think I’d be that stupid?”

“Then why is your name attached to it?”

“I don’t know, Iris!” She sounded angry now. “But I didn’t leak anything. I didn’t pay anyone. Someone’s setting me up.”

I pressed my hand against my forehead. “Victor thinks you did it.”

“Then Victor is lying.”

“Or you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Mom. Everything is falling apart and I—”

“Don’t you dare blame me for this,” she snapped. “I’ve been trying to protect you. I’ve been trying to—”

“Protect me? By doing what? Making things worse?”

She hung up and I stared at my phone, my chest tight, my hands trembling.

Was she lying?

Or was Victor?

The door opened behind me and when I turned, it was Caesar stepping inside. He closed the door behind him.

“What did you tell Aaron?” he asked.

I blinked. “What?”

“At the bar. What did you tell him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is when my father thinks you’re leaking information.” He tucked his hands into his pocket. “If you want to come out of this unscathed, you need to put aside your hatred for me and come clean.”

“Why would you even want to help me?”

“I’m not helping you for free.” He stepped closer. “But if you want to survive this, you’ll tell me the truth.”

I stared at him. “I didn’t tell Aaron anything.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

Caesar stepped even closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to look at him.

He leaned in, his voice dropping into a register that made the hair on my arms stand up. “What did you tell Aaron?”

“Nothing,” I said, but the word felt brittle.

He studied my face for a long moment. Then he said lowly, “Don’t lie to me, Iris. Because if Victor thinks you’re the one who leaked that story… he won’t punish you. He’ll erase you.”

“I….” I paused, running a hand through my hair as I tried to recall every conversation I had with Aaron, wondering what that had to do with the article.

The air in the room suddenly felt too thin to breathe. I dragged a hand through my hair, my scalp stinging. I tried to reach back into the tequila-soaked haze of the night before, searching for Aaron’s face, for the shape of our words.

“Iris, think,” he pressed, his shadow looming over me. “You’re not the only one at a disadvantage if my father believes you're behind this.”

“I can’t remember!” I snapped, the frustration boiling over. “I was too drunk. Besides, what does Aaron have to do with any of this?”

He stared at me wordlessly.

“I told you” he said finally, “Aaron isn’t your friend.”

“Don’t start with this bullshit. I’m about to lose my shares because of that career-ending contract you and your father forced on me.”

“Then tell me what you told him!”

I spun away, pacing the length of the rug, my feet thudding against the floor in time with the pounding in my skull. Think. I remembered the bitterness. I remembered calling Caesar a coward. I remembered calling him his father’s lapdog, a servant in a suit... and...

The room went cold. My feet stopped moving.

“The contract he signed years ago,” I had slurred into Aaron’s ear. “He kept copies. He knew Victor would try something eventually...”

I slapped a hand over my mouth, but the confession was already echoing in the silence of my mind.

Caesar was on me in an instant, gripping my shoulders and forcing me to face him. “What? You remember?”

I couldn't look him in the eye. I could only whisper the one word that had just signed my death warrant.

“The contract.”