Chapter 4

So, in Ethan's eyes, Iris was picking on someone younger than her, even though she was the victim. Iris stared at the hand gripping her wrist. That hand had patted her back when she jolted awake from nightmares. It had held hers tightly when she was on the operating table after being shot and rested on her shoulder at the funerals of her mother and brother while he said, "You still have me, Iris." Now, that same hand was clamping down on her wrist, holding her in place to protect another woman. Iris slowly pulled her hand free and shoved him away. "You're right, Mr. Cooper," she said calmly. Frighteningly so. "I overreacted." Then, she spun on her heel and walked out of the hall under countless complicated stares. … In the days that followed, Iris became the talk of the FBI field office. "I heard she was assaulted by her stepfather when she was young…" "No wonder she's so cold. She's got issues." "Mr. Cooper seems pretty disappointed in her. Lately, he's been showing up at events with Violet instead." Rumors spread like wildfire, yet Ethan never once spoke up for her. Instead, he was busy comforting a "shaken" Violet, taking her out to meals, shopping with her, and personally tutoring her for her promotion exam. Iris didn't see him until she took three days off and prepared to attend another commendation ceremony in Harrington. Ethan waited for her downstairs early in the morning. When he spotted her, he pulled out a velvet box and opened it in front of her. A faint smile crept onto his face as he asked, "Are you still mad at me? I know you've always liked this necklace, so I bought it for you." Before she could refuse, he fastened it around her neck. His gaze was so tender, as if he were admiring a flawless work of art. After a long while, he tore his gaze away. His tone was warm yet faintly admonishing as he said, "Drive safely… and stop targeting Violet." Iris merely raised the corner of her lips. After he left, she took off the necklace and threw it straight into the dirty roadside ditch before driving toward Harrington. … By the time she returned to Fernwick, it was late at night. Iris dragged her suitcase back to her apartment. It was the place her mother had bought for her, and it was filled with memories of happier times with her family. Iris slipped the key into the lock and turned it. The door opened, but she froze in place, as there was a pair of pink fuzzy slippers at the entryway. Those weren't hers. The air was heavy with a sweet, cloying perfume. It wasn't the woody scent she used. "Oh, Iris, you're back." Violet emerged from the living room in a silk robe, and she didn't seem surprised. Her expression was filled with just the right amount of surprise and a practiced smile. Iris stared at her. "What are you doing in my house?" Violet twisted her fingers and glanced innocently toward the kitchen. "Ethy said I could stay here. He—" "I told her to move in." Ethan's voice came from the kitchen. He walked out with a brand-new plaid apron tied around his waist and a long-handled ladle in his hand. Under the warm yellow lights, the homey scene felt strangely unfamiliar to Iris. Ethan Cooper, a man who had never set foot in the kitchen, was now cooking for another woman. It was a privilege she had never once been given. His tone was calm, as if he were talking about the weather. "Vee's place is too far from the office and pretty unsafe. You live alone in such a big house, and you're hardly home, so the rooms are just sitting empty." Iris' head started to buzz. She dropped her suitcase and rushed into the master bedroom. Her wardrobe had been opened. Her clothes were stuffed into woven bags and dumped in the corner. The skincare products on her vanity were gone, replaced by Violet's bottles and jars. Most importantly, the redwood box on her nightstand was missing. That box held her mother and brother's keepsakes. Inside were her mother's emerald bracelet, the little star her brother earned in kindergarten, and the last family photo of the four of them. "Where's my box?" Iris asked hoarsely as she turned around. "Oh, are you talking about that old thing?" Violet leaned against the doorframe. "It was full of junk. I thought it was bad luck, so I told the cleaner to throw it away." The box was thrown away. Darkness closed in on Iris' vision. "Where did you throw it?" she demanded, clutching Violet's shoulders. "That hurts… You're hurting me, Iris…" Violet struggled. "It was thrown in the trash station downstairs. The collection truck already came this morning." Iris shoved her away and ran downstairs like she'd lost her mind. The trash station reeked of rot. Several large, empty green dumpsters stood there. The garbage truck came every day at 6:00 am. She had been gone for three days. Those keepsakes had already been crushed, compacted, and hauled off to some landfill she would never find. Iris collapsed to her knees and dug through the filth with her bare hands. Rotting waste filled her fingernails, but she found nothing. No fragments of the emerald bracelet. No faded little star. No family photo. Nothing. "Mom… Cal…" she murmured, her tears falling onto the filthy ground.