Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 139

Chapter 139

My blood runs cold. “Are you saying this wasn’t an accident?”

Ezra’s expression hardens. “I’m saying it’s suspicious. Especially given the timing… with the custody battle just starting.”

A murderous rage begins to build up inside of me. “Find out who did this,” I order, my voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Check every traffic camera, every witness statement. I want to know who was driving that car, and I want to know why they targeted Iris.”

With a nod, Ezra quickly leaves the room. I make a silent vow that if I find who did this and it wasn’t just a freak accident, I’ll kill them with my bare hands.

Iris

I’m floating in darkness for what feels like an eternity. Voices come and go, distant and muffled, as if I’m underwater. Sometimes I think I hear Miles calling for me, sometimes it’s Arthur’s voice. But I can’t reach them. I can’t find my way back.

Then, slowly, I become aware of pain coursing through my body. My eyelids feel like they’re weighed down with concrete, but I struggle to open them anyway.

The first thing I see is a blurry ceiling. Where am I? What happened?

I try to speak, but my throat is raw, and all that comes out is a hoarse croak.

“Iris?”

That voice. I know that voice.

With tremendous effort, I turn my head toward the sound, and through the haze of pain and confusion, I see him.

Arthur.

He looks terrible. His usually perfect hair is disheveled, his clothes rumpled like he’s slept in them. There are dark circles under his eyes, and several days‘ worth of stubble shadows his jaw. But his eyes—those familiar green eyes–light up when they meet mine.

“You’re awake,” he breathes, surging from his chair to my bedside. “Oh, thank the Goddess, you’re finally awake.”

I try to speak again, but my mouth is too dry. Arthur seems to understand, reaching for a cup of water with a straw and holding it to my lips. The cool liquid is a blessed relief on my parched throat

“What happened?” I manage to ask. It hurts just to say the words.

“There was an accident,” Arthur says, setting the cup aside. “Your cab was hit at an intersection. You’ve been unconscious for days.”

Days? My mind reels, trying to process this information. I remember getting into the cab, heading to the lawyer’s office, and then… nothing.

“Miles,” I gasp. “Where’s Miles?”

“He’s safe,” Arthur assures me quickly. “He’s with Brian at your apartment. I’ve been checking on him every day.”