Chapter 15
Iris's POV
I stood in Sebastien's office, feeling his piercing gaze scanning my face. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a cold light on his silver-gray hair. His words hung in the air—a warning for me to "behave" to avoid "tarnishing the Grey family's reputation in the wolf community."
How ironic. For two years, he'd paraded around with various women at social events, yet here he was accusing me of improper behavior? I took a deep breath, maintaining a calm expression. The old me might have felt hurt or even frightened by such accusations, but now—I felt an inexplicable calm.
"Mr. Grey," I began, my voice steadier than I'd expected, "I don't understand what you're talking about."
Sebastien stepped forward, his scent—cedar mixed with rain-soaked earth—washing over me. Once, this scent made my heart race; now it only made me tense.
"Don't play dumb," he said coldly. "Your relationship with Marcus Foster is being discussed throughout the design department."
I raised an eyebrow, looking directly into his gray-green eyes, now darkened with anger. Marcus Foster? He was seriously taking the conversation in this direction?
"I've only been at Crescent Design a few days," I responded calmly. "If you don't have evidence, Mr. Grey, please don't spread rumors. I thought as CEO, you'd value evidence over gossip."
His expression grew icier, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. I silently wondered: why was he suddenly so concerned about my private life? In the past two years, he'd never cared about anything I did. Our marriage was just a political performance, and he hadn't even given me a real mate mark.
I looked directly at him, feeling a hint of defiance rise within me. "Are you perhaps... regretting your decision to terminate our mate relationship, Mr. Grey?"
His brow furrowed sharply, a wild gleam flashing in his eyes as if my words had provoked the wolf inside him.
"Divorcing you is something I've dreamed of," he sneered, his lips curling into a cold smile. "Our wolf mate relationship has no meaning whatsoever."
In that moment, I felt like something sharp had pierced my heart. No meaning? Two years of waiting and endurance, dismissed so casually with a single sentence. I clenched my jaw, refusing to show any pain.
"Then we're in agreement," I forced myself to smile. "I'm also eager to end this relationship. It's long overdue."
I noticed Sebastien's eyes flash with a violent gleam—the sign of an Alpha wolf about to lose his temper. His fingers trembled slightly, knuckles white, as if suppressing some powerful impulse. Why such an intense emotional reaction? If he was truly desperate to get rid of me, shouldn't he be happy now?
"So eager to divorce me," his voice lowered, carrying a dangerous calm. "Is it so you can run away with Noah Phillips?"
I almost laughed out loud. Noah? He was bringing up Noah? What did this mean? Had Sebastien been monitoring my social activities? Or did he have some particular hostility toward Noah?
"I see Mr. Grey cares about such things after all," I thought coldly, admitting that a small part of me felt a twisted satisfaction at his jealousy. "Too bad you never cared about my feelings."
I let out a soft, mocking laugh, looking into his eyes. "Noah is my friend. Unlike certain people who can't even manage basic respect, at least he knows how to treat a woman."
Sebastien's eyes narrowed dangerously, and I could feel the wolf inside him growling. "Friend?" he almost squeezed the word through his teeth. "Seems your definition of 'friend' is quite broad."
"How I define friendship doesn't require explanation to you, Mr. Grey," I responded coolly. "Just as you don't need to explain to me who you spend your nights with. Our agreement was clear—you live your life, I live mine."
I dropped my smile, my expression returning to neutral. "If there's nothing else to discuss, I'll be leaving now. I'm busy."
I turned toward the door, feeling his gaze burning into my back like flames. I forced myself not to look back, each step firm and deliberate.
Just as I was about to close the door, I suddenly remembered something and paused.
"You should remember what I said in the company bathroom," I stated calmly without turning around. "At Crescent Design, we're just normal colleagues—employer and employee. Please pretend you don't know me."
I didn't wait for his response, gently closing the door behind me.
The moment the elevator doors closed, I finally allowed myself to breathe deeply. I leaned against the cold metal wall, closing my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. The confrontation had drained me, but I felt a hint of pride in my performance—I'd finally faced him without flinching, said what I wanted to say without suppressing myself.
Two years ago, I naively thought he would give me a real mark, make me his Luna. But now it seems that was just my one-sided fantasy.
A relationship "with no meaning whatsoever"—that was his assessment of our marriage. I couldn't help but smile bitterly, my fingers unconsciously touching my still-flat abdomen. He didn't know that inside me grew our child, the product of this "meaningless" relationship.
The elevator reached the design department's floor, and the doors opened. I took a deep breath, putting on that professional, calm mask again. Now wasn't the time to dwell on personal emotions—I had work to do, a future to plan—for myself and for my child.
I walked into the design department to find almost everyone had paused their work, curious eyes turning toward me. Wolves' keen sense of smell allowed them to detect the emotional fluctuations lingering on me, despite my efforts to control them.
I gave everyone a faint smile and walked straight to my workstation. These days, I'd grown accustomed to being examined with such looks—curious, suspicious, sometimes even malicious. I no longer felt uncomfortable; this was just the transition period I had to face.
"How did it go, Iris?" Lisa came to my side, her voice full of concern. "I heard from the team leader that Mr. Grey called you to his office. He didn't give you a hard time, did he?"
I looked up at her concerned expression, unsure if she genuinely cared or just wanted gossip material. Either way, I decided not to give her much information.
"Nothing important," I answered gently. "Just discussed some trivial matters."
Just as Lisa seemed about to press further, Beth—our team leader—walked into the office, looking somewhat excited.
"Everyone, attention please," she announced loudly. "Polaris Studio has sent over their initial drafts. Please review them carefully this afternoon. Also, there's a collaboration dinner tonight that all designers involved in the project need to attend."
I frowned. Social occasions, especially work-related ones, always made me uncomfortable. And Polaris Studio—where I had once worked, where I had become a renowned designer under the pseudonym "Aurora." If the collaboration deepened, my identity would eventually be discovered.
I pondered this unexpected twist. Perhaps I should proactively tell Sebastien that I was "Aurora"? No, not yet. I needed to establish my position at Crescent Design first, build my own reputation, so that even if my identity was exposed, I'd have solid ground to stand on.
The "Aurora" identity would be discovered sooner or later. Rather than passively waiting, I should prepare and face it with composure.
I turned my attention to the designs before me, immersing myself in work, temporarily forgetting other troubles. I recalled Polaris Studio's design style—bold and innovative yet elegant, often blending natural elements with geometric shapes to create works that were both modern and profound.
I began sketching on draft paper, thinking about how to merge Crescent Design's classical luxury with Polaris's modern sensibility to create an entirely new style. This creative process always helped me find peace, as if the world contained only me, paper, and pen.
I was so absorbed in design that I didn't notice the time passing until Lisa walked to my side and gently tapped my shoulder.
"Iris, it's time to go home," she said, then her gaze fell on the messy drafts on my desk, her expression gradually changing from curiosity to surprise.
"Oh my God, you..." she finally managed to say, her eyes wide.
Her reaction startled me, pulling me back from my creative state. "What's wrong?"