Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 275

The stack of papers on my desk seems to grow rather than rink no matter how many hours I spend working through them. Budget proposals, foreign policy briefings, economic reports–being Alpha President means drowning in’an endless sea of bureaucracy.

I rub my eyes, fighting off the midday fatigue. Just three niere reports to review before my afternoon meeting with the agricultural council, and then I can see Iris and Miles. I glance over at the picture of the three of us on my desk–taken during our recent vacation, Miles holding a baby goat while Iris and I crouch on either side of him— and smile softly. When I look at this picture, everything else in life seems easier and insignificant.

Unfortunately, a knock at my office door interrupts my thoughts. I call out, and a moment later, Ezra pokes his head in. “Sir, there’s someone here to see you. A representative from the Ordan Humanitarian Society.”

I glance at my schedule on the tablet beside me. “I don’t have any meetings with them today.”

“They’re insisting it’s urgent,” Ezra says apologetically. “Something about Iris’s fundraiser.”

Great… I should have known.

“Fine,” I sigh, straightening my tie. “Send them in.”

Ezra steps aside, and a woman in a sharply tailored pantsuit enters. She’s middle–aged, with steel–gray hair cut in a severe bob and rectangular glasses perched on her nose I suppress a sigh at the sight of her.

Marjorie Falks. She’s been in my office before–always with some complaint or another, and never on good terms. As far as humanitarian society representatives go, she’s awfully militant and, dare I say, rude. Even in the blistering heat of the last day of summer today, she looks as cold as ever.

“Alpha President,” she says by way of greeting. She stops in front of my desk and folds her arms across her chest, not bothering to shake my hand.

“Ms. Falks,” I sigh, trying to sound polite despite my immediate frustration. “What can I do for you today?” She doesn’t sit when I gesture to the chair across from my desk, instead remaining rigidly upright. “I’ll be brief, Mr. President. Our organization has concerns about your partner’s upcoming fundraiser.”

Your partner. As if Iris isn’t the future Luna of Ordan. But I don’t correct Marjorie, because I know it’s not going to change anything.

“Iris’s children’s day event?” I ask. “What concerns could you possibly have? It’s raising money for arts education in public schools.”

“That’s precisely the issue,” Falks says, her thin lips pinching into an even thinner line. “Miss Willford is advocating for public school funding while enrolling her own child in one of the most expensive private institutions in the country. Wellington Academy, if I’m not mistaken.”

My spine stiffens. How does she know where Miles is enrolled? We’ve been extremely careful about that information, wanting to ensure that he doesn’t get singled out at school.

“Our members find this deeply hypocritical,” she continues before I can speak. “She’s positioning herself as a champion for public education while ensuring her own child never has to experience its shortcomings. It sends a troubling message about the future Luna of Ordan.”

I take a measured breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. Ms. Falks, Lappreciate your organization’s dedication

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Chapter 275

to humanitarian causes, but I think you’re mischaracterizing the situation.”