Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 251

Arthur frowns. “You want to use this as a PR opportunity?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” I protest, although it’s not entirely untrue. “Look, I hate what Selina did. I’m furious and scared

and I never want her anywhere near Miles again. But I also think that maybe, with the right help, she could be… I don’t know, rehabilitated? And if that happens to boost our public image as compassionate leaders, is that really so bad?”

“So you’re suggesting we agree to house arrest,” Arthur says flatly.

“With conditions,” I clarify. “Strict ones. She gets psychiatric help, does community service, and most importantly, stays the hell

from you, me, and Miles. Forever.”

away

Arthur is quiet for a long moment, his jaw working as he processes this. “I don’t like it,” he finally says. “I don’t trust her to abide

by any restrictions.”

“Neither do I,” I admit. “But we can insist on security measures. Monitoring. Whatever it takes to ensure she doesn’t break the

rules. And if—or maybe when–she does slip up, then she goes straight to prison. No more chances.”

He studies my face. “Are you sure about this? After everything she’s done?”

“No,” I confess. “I’m not sure about anything. But I do know that letting her rot in prison won’t bring any closure. And if there’s

a chance that this approach might allow for healing–not just for her, but for my parents too–while also keeping us safe… maybe it’s worth considering.”

Arthur exhales slowly. “You’re too forgiving for your own good, you know that?”

“Trust me,” I say coldly, my eyes narrowing, “I’m not forgiving her.”

He looks at me for a moment, then nods. “Fine. If this is what you want, then I’ll agree to it. But she gets one chance, Iris. One.”

I nod in agreement. When we return to the study, my parents and Caleb look up expectantly.

“We’ve discussed it,” Arthur announces. “We are willing to agree to house arrest under certain non–negotiable conditions.”

My father tilts his head. “Which are?”

“First, comprehensive psychiatric treatment. Not just medication, but intensive therapy with a professional of our choosing.” He glances at me.

“Second, community service,” I say. “The orphanage where I grew up is in need of repairs and extra assistance. I want her to spend at least twenty hours a week working there, with no pay, and I want her to make a yearly donation to the Ordan National Orphanage Fund for the rest of her life.”

My parents exchange glances, but my mother nods. “That’s reasonable.”

“And third,” Arthur goes on, “absolutely no contact with me, Iris, or Miles. Not in person, not by phone, not by letter, not

My parents are silent for a long moment, and I almost wonder if they can hear my heart pounding in the quiet room. They might be my biological parents, but I still don’t know them all that well after two and a half decades of separation. Every bit of the human orphan that still exists in me is screaming at me for being so demanding toward the upper echelon of werewolf society.