They are coming.
“He wouldn’t leave me,” I whisper to the empty room. “He needs me.”
The thought is bitter.He needs me.Nothe loves me.
I push the thought away.
He does love me. I’m his daughter. I’m the only thing he has left since Mom died. He was hard on me, yes. He was demanding. He was cold. But that was to make me strong. That was to prepare me for... this.
Stand tall, Iris. Do not let them see you crumble.
I stand and walk to the window.
The ocean churns below, a cauldron of gray foam. The drop is sheer—three hundred feet of black rock. I press my hand against the cold, solid glass.
“Where are you?” I breathe.
My reflection in the glass is a disaster, with dark circles under my eyes and matted hair. I look like the victim in a crime drama.
You’re not a victim,I tell myself.You’re a Hale. You endure.
I turn back to the TV.
The clock on the screen reads 5:58 p.m.
My stomach tightens.
Tonight is the Judiciary Gala, the event I spent six months planning. It’s the event where I placed the damn lilies to secure my father’s nomination, and it’s happening right now without me.
I sit back down in the chair and pull the remote closer, gripping it like a weapon.
If there is any news, it will be tonight. If my father is going to make a statement, he will do it there. He can’t hide my absence at the Judiciary Gala. People will ask. The press will ask.
He’ll have to answer.
And when he speaks... when he looks into the camera and pleads for my safe return... Cassian will see.
Cassian will see that he was wrong. He’ll see that I’m not an “insurance policy.” He’ll see that he’s kicked a hornet’s nest.
The news anchor, a blonde woman with perfect teeth and dead eyes, shuffles her papers.
“And now, live to the Waldorf Museum for the social event of the season,” she says. “The 10th Annual Judiciary Gala is underway, and rumors are swirling about a major announcement from the keynote speaker, Senator Thomas Caldwell.”
The screen cuts to a live feed.
The Waldorf Museum.
It looks beautiful. The evening is clear, and the museum’s exterior is lit by golden floodlights. Tinted black town cars are pulling up to the red carpet.
I lean forward, scanning the crowd.
I see the Senator. He looks healthy. Alive.
Thank God.
The relief hits me so hard I almost sob. I didn’t kill him. I didn’t kill the Senator. The lilies were removed. Cassian’s team… they really did sanitize the room. They took the flowers.
“I saved him,” I whisper. “I fixed it.”
