Chapter 4 04
IRIS QUINN
I sat under a tree outside the hospital, away from everyone, away from my mother and her accusations.
Kneel. Beg.
I palmed my face with a groan—the Laurent family, of all people.
With a sigh, I unlocked my phone even though Naomi had told me not to check the internet. I opened it anyway.
The first blog post had over three thousand comments.
QUINN EMPIRE CRUMBLES: KARMA OR JUSTICE?
I scrolled through them.
Finally. These conglomerate families think they’re untouchable. Not anymore.
Their stock dropped 40% in one day lmao.
Heard the chairman had a heart attack during questioning. Hope he dies lol.
My chest tightened.
I couldn’t stop myself from typing out a reply.
Do you people have no human compassion?
A response came immediately.
You must’ve benefited from the fraud. Shut your shit up before we find you.
I locked my phone and ran a hand through my hair, my fingers shaking.
A text from Naomi lit up the screen.
Naomi: Your father is out.
I ran as fast as I could.
Inside, they were already moving my unconscious father on a gurney, as nurses wheeled him down the hall toward the VIP ward while my mother and Mr. Hargreaves followed close behind.
Naomi stood near the nurses’ station, speaking with a doctor in low tones. I waited until they finished before walking over.
“What did he say?”
Naomi glanced at the doctor’s retreating back before looking at me.
“Your father is unstable due to the stress from the interrogation that caused the heart attack.” She paused. “They also said his heart isn’t pumping blood properly right now, and the next twenty-four hours are critical. Another episode could cause cardiac arrest.”
I felt the floor tilt slightly. “So he could—”
“Anything could happen,” Naomi said quietly.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
---
When I entered the VIP ward, it was quiet.
My father looked frail in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines that beeped steadily, while my mother sat in a chair beside him, holding his hand. She did not look at me when I walked in.
Mr. Hargreaves stood near the window, and Naomi stayed by the door.
“The corporate accounts have been frozen,” Mr. Hargreaves said without preamble. “It won’t be long before you’re out of funds unless you have money stashed away somewhere.”
My mother’s focus remained on my father. “Nothing matters more than his recovery, and if I have to sell everything I own to make sure he gets the best care, I will.”
Mr. Hargreaves cleared his throat. “There’s something else.” He said. “Victor Laurent reached out to me a few hours before the news broke.”
My heart skipped.
“He asked if you’d made up your mind about Iris marrying their son.”
My mother’s head snapped up, her eyes suddenly bright. “Is Caesar still willing, even after everything?”
“According to Mr. Laurent, his son has made it clear that Iris is the one.”
The one.
I almost laughed. What was that jackass playing at?
My mother looked like she might cry from relief. “Tell Mr. Laurent that Iris will marry their son, and ask when would be suitable to meet.”
“I already made myself clear,” I said. “I’m not marrying into that family.”
She ignored me. “Mr. Hargreaves, please arrange a meeting as soon as possible.”
“Of course.”
I felt something snap inside me and turned toward the door, irritated by how little my opinion mattered.
“Iris,” Naomi started.
I grabbed the car keys from her hand and kept walking.
“Iris, wait—”
I strode down the hallway, through the hospital doors, and into the parking lot with my phone in hand.
“Set a date soon,” I scoffed. “Fucking ridiculous.”
As I approached the car, I found myself dialing a number I never thought I would.
It rang twice before I heard a voice.
“What do you want?” Caesar Laurent’s voice was clipped and very impatient. “I’m about to go into a meeting.”
“There’s a café near your company building,” I said. “I’ll be waiting there.”
I hung up before he could respond.
---
At the café, I waited for almost two hours.
The place was half-empty, filled with the low hum of conversation and the hiss of espresso machines. I’d ordered a coffee I couldn’t drink, and my phone sat on the table in front of me, screen facing up in case Naomi sent word about my father.
Nothing yet.
I looked out through the glass wall and saw a black car pull up to the curb, and when the door opened, Caesar stepped out.
He wore sunglasses even though the sun was already setting, along with a perfectly tailored suit, and he moved like he had all the time in the world—like his family hadn’t just destroyed mine.
My fist clenched on the table.
Women inside the café turned to look as he walked in, some making comments to their friends. I rolled my eyes and kept my gaze locked on him until he reached my table.
He sat down across from me and crossed one leg over the other.
“You took your sweet time,” I said.
“I gave you a heads up.” He didn’t remove the sunglasses. “What is this about? I have somewhere to be.”
“What game are you and your father playing, accusing my father of fraud?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Why don’t you believe your father actually committed fraud?”
“Because he didn’t!” My hand slammed against the table.
Caesar’s gaze dropped to my fist, and he leaned back with a quiet hum. “Here I was thinking you called to ask me a favor.”
“A favor?” I stared at him. “I came here to speak my mind.”
“Then speak.”
“I cannot marry you for any reason, ever.” I stood up. “Tell your father to leave my family alone.”
I turned to walk away.
“Sit down.”
Something in his voice made me stop, and I looked back. He’d removed the sunglasses, his eyes brown and darker than I remembered but familiarly cold.
“Like hell I would.”
He stood, taller than me by at least half a foot, though he didn’t move closer—just looked down at me.
“You don’t have what it takes to lead that company after your father.” He said this matter-of-factly. “Did you never learn anything from him?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “What are you talking about?”
“An heir does whatever is necessary to preserve what the family owns.” His voice grew stronger with each word. “They kneel, they beg, they even die if they have to.”
I almost flinched.
“But you?” he continued. “Your arrogance knows no bounds, and I see it in the way you’re reckless and selfish.”
That word again.
“What is it to you if I’m selfish and reckless?”
“I don’t care if you’re either of those things,” he said. “But you know who cares? Your parents.”
I said nothing.
“You’ll marry me, and your family will make sure of it.” He paused. “Like it or not, my father and I have different agendas, but they can only be completed when you become my wife.”
I scoffed. “So this is obsession. You ruin my father just to get me on a leash.”
“An obsession?” He looked genuinely baffled.
“Your father said I was the one for you.”
“You’d be a fool to believe that.” He put his sunglasses back on. “I’m leaving now.”
He turned and walked toward the exit.
This time I called after him. “Caesar.”
He didn’t stop until he reached his car, then turned, exhaling slowly.
“Is there really no way to stop this madness?”
He was quiet for a moment before he spoke.
“You have two options—get on your knees right here in the middle of the street and beg me.” He paused. “Or accept to be my wife.”
