Chapter 39 39

Chapter 39 39
IRIS QUINN

I bolted out of the room, the bedroom door slamming against the wall as I tore out, the hallway a blur. My feet hit the floor in a frantic, uneven rhythm as Caesar called after me, but I didn't turn back. I couldn't.

I needed to find Victor and fix this before it got worse. But when I reached the living room, it was empty. The chair Victor had been sitting in was still there, his glass of whiskey abandoned on the side table.

“Iris?”

The voice made me jump, my nerves frayed to the snapping point.

Naomi was descending the stairs, her silk dress fluttering like moth wings. She looked concerned, entirely too calm for the wreckage I was carrying.

“I heard shouting earlier,” she said. “Is everything alright?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “No. I just shot myself in the foot and now I’m about to lose my mind.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

I grabbed her arm and pulled her closer, lowering my voice to a whisper. “I need you to do something for me. As soon as Caesar leaves the bedroom, go in there. There’s a brown suitcase in my closet. Inside is an envelope. Take it and hide it somewhere safe.”

Naomi’s eyes widened. “Iris—”

“Please, Naomi. I’ll explain later. Just do this for me.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “What’s the code for the suitcase?”

“I’ll text it to you.” I released her arm. “Have you seen Victor?”

“Mrs. Hale said he spends time in the study when he’s not in his room or the living room.”

“Where’s the study?”

“Down the hall, third door on the left.”

“Thank you.”

I pivoted, my footwear striking the floorboards with a hollow sound that echoed the thudding in my chest. I didn't give myself time to think, to hesitate, or to let the fear paralyze my legs.

When I found the study, I pushed the door open and walked straight in without knocking.

Victor was behind a massive desk, the cold glow of his phone illuminating the deep lines of his face. He looked up, his eyes narrowing into slits of annoyance. The silence in the room was heavy, smelling of old paper and expensive tobacco.

“What game are you trying to play?” I demanded.

He set his phone down with a deliberate, haunting slowness. “Have you lost your mind? You barge into my study without knocking to ask me that?”

“I understand the game you’re playing,” I said, closing the distance to the desk until I could smell the faint scent of his whiskey. “It’s better if you just come clean instead of creating drama. We’re partners, remember?”

Victor leaned back, the leather of his chair creaking. “Partners,” he echoed, the word sounding like an insult. “Hardly. A partner provides value and you’ve given me nothing.”

“It’s barely been three days—”

CRACK.

His palm hit the desk like a gunshot, the sound vibrating through the floorboards.

“You sleep in the same room as the boy!” he roared, his face darkening. “How could you be so useless? How do you know nothing?”

I forced a jagged laugh, masking the way my knees wanted to give way. “Maybe because Caesar isn’t stupid enough to bring compromising shit home.”

He dismissed me with a flick of his eyes. “Come back when you’re ready to be useful,”

I stood my ground, my nails biting into my palms. “What’s your relationship with Aaron?”

One of Victor’s eyebrows arched. “Employee and employer. Why?”

“Just curious.”

He didn’t believe me—his gaze was too heavy for that—but he didn’t push.

I took a breath, the air tasting like dust and desperation. “Fine. I’ll give it to you.”

He tilted his head like a predator catching a scent. “Give me what?”

I ground my teeth, the irony of my own betrayal sticking in my throat. “The contract. The one my father kept hidden. I’ll give it to you. Just take down those articles.”

A smile spread across Victor’s face, entirely satisfied. “Or what? Are you threatening me, Iris?”

“I’m asking you to take them down,” I said. “Unless you’re planning to use the same method you used on my father on me.”

His smile widened. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Iris. You’re family now.”

“But,” he continued, “now that you’ve admitted to having the contract, I don’t want it because I’ll get it anyway.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“I want something else.” He leaned forward slightly. “Information. On Caesar.”

“What kind of information?”

“Anything useful. Meetings. Conversations. Files. Whatever you can find.” He paused. “And you have until the company gala to give it to me.”

I blinked. “Company gala?”

“There’s going to be a party to celebrate the merger. Four days from now.”

“Four days?” I almost stepped even closer. “How am I supposed to get information in four days?”

Victor shrugged. “Sort yourself out. But the articles stay in circulation until I get what I want. And if you fail—” He smiled again. “—I’ll take whatever you and Margaret think you still have in Quinn Enterprises. As per the contract.”

I opened my mouth to bite back, but the window of conversation had already slammed shut. He turned away, the glow of his phone reflecting in his eyes as he dismissed me like a servant.

“Leave,” he said. “I have things to do.”

I stood frozen for a moment, the vibration of his earlier outburst still humming in the floorboards. My hands were shaking so violently I had to curl them into fists to hide the tremor. Then I turned and walked out, closing the door behind me.

I leaned against the wall in the hallway, trying to breathe.

Four days.

Four days to make an enemy of Caesar or Victor would strip me of my name, my legacy, and everything my father had left behind.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers flying over the glass as I texted Naomi the suitcase code. My last and only card, played out of sheer desperation.

I stared at the opposite wall, the silence of the Laurent mansion pressing in on me. I was the daughter of Richard Quinn; a name that used to carry power, and respect.

Now, I was just a pawn on Victor Laurent’s board, being moved toward a sacrifice I didn't think I’d survive.