جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 8

The release clerk slid Iris's belongings across the counter, and Iris pushed the plastic bag straight back at her. Inside lay the faded sweater, the worn shoes, and the cheap watch she had worn on the day of her sentencing. The clerk sighed and crossed her arms."Check the order again," Iris pleaded, flattening her palms on the scratched wood. "The judge gave me years in here, and I've served a fraction of them.""I checked the Ministry's seal, the warden's signature, and the date," the clerk snapped, shoving the bag forward again. "Somebody powerful wants you gone, Whitmore, so go before they change their minds.""Who wants me gone?" Iris demanded."Ask the car outside," the clerk replied, jerking her chin toward the frosted window.Beyond the razor wire and iron gates, a black stretch Rolls-Royce idled at the curb, its tinted windows absorbing the afternoon light. A man in a tailored grey suit and an earpiece stood beside the rear door. He stepped into Iris's path the moment she cle

Her mother's surgeon blocked the ward door with his clipboard and told Iris to say her goodbyes. Iris grabbed the doorframe as her knees wobbled. The surgeon caught her elbow and steadied her with a firm hand."Her heart failed after the operation," the surgeon explained, lowering his voice as nurses hurried past. "We tried every option, Miss Whitmore. She's awake and asking for you, so go in now.""Take her back into theatre," Iris pleaded, gripping his sleeve. "The deposit cleared, and my father can wire the rest by tonight.""Money buys an operating room," the surgeon replied, easing her hand off his arm. "Her heart muscle decides the outcome, and hers has decided. Use the time she has left, because she asked for you by name twice."Machines beeped on both sides of the bed in the dim ward. Helen Brooks lay propped against the pillows with an oxygen mask over her face and her grey hair spread across the pillowcase. Iris dropped into the chair beside the bed and gathered her mother's

The woman wearing a white gown walked across the drawing room rug with her arms outstretched toward him.Kieran Sterling moved to the right, moving out of the way before her fingers could touch his clothes.Her hands dropped helplessly against her silk skirts as her lower lip trembled under the light of the crystal chandelier.She pressed her open palm against her collarbone and took a breath, trying to steady herself while tears pooled in her eyes."I sneaked out at dawn because men were searching the hotel corridors for you," she said in between sobs. "Every step down that hotel staircase tore me apart, but I knew I had to keep your secret safe."She paused, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist."I have laid awake every night since then, praying you survived whatever poison they put in your glass."Kieran walked a slow half-circle around her, stopping where the light fell across her face.Honey-blonde hair fell over her shoulders in loose waves.A heavy fragrance of engineered

Iris Whitmore woke to morning sunlight cutting through the gap in the heavy velvet drapes.She lay on her side in the middle of the massive mattress, her head resting against a firm down pillow.Beside her, Kieran Sterling slept on his stomach, one heavy arm draped over her waist. He had slept fully clothed in his wrinkled white dress shirt and trousers from the night before, too exhausted to even unbutton his collar. His chest rose and fell in a slow, deep rhythm, his face buried against the side of her shoulder.For the first time since she had met him, the deep, hard lines around his mouth—carved by years of agonizing chronic insomnia and constant physical pain—were completely smooth in peaceful sleep.Iris shifted her weight, trying to slip out from under his arm without waking him.The moment she moved, Kieran stirred.His dark grey eyes opened slowly, cloudy with sleep before focusing on her face. He didn't pull his arm away immediately. He simply lay there in the quiet morning