Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur)

Iris

I watch Miles from the wrought-iron patio table where my mother, Arthur, and I are

having Saturday afternoon tea. He's running around the lawn, giggling as he chases butterflies, his dark hair catching the sunlight. Every now and then, he squeals with delight when one lands on his outstretched finger.

"He's got so much energy," my mother notes, sipping her tea. "Caleb was the same way at that age. Couldn't keep still for more than five seconds."

I smile, watching as my father emerges from the greenhouse to show Miles a particularly colorful butterfly perched on a potted plant. Miles' eyes go wide, and he listens attentively as my father explains something to him.noveldrama

"It's nice to see them bonding," I say softly. "I always wanted him to have loving grandparents."

My mother beams. "And we've always wanted a grandchild

I can't help but feel tears misting over my eyes, although I quickly blink them away. Miles is getting to experience the childhood I never had. And while there's a small part of me that feels a twinge of jealousy, it's overshadowed by the gratitude I feel that Miles gets to experience this.

"Daddy!” Miles suddenly calls out, beckoning Arthur over. Daddy, come look!"

Arthur chuckles fondly and wanders over to Miles and my father. My mother turns to me once he's gone. "Iris, do you like chess?" I nod, and she quickly gets up, retreating into the house for a minute before returning with a beautiful marble chess set. I help her set it up on the patio table.

"So," she begins, moving her pawn forward two spaces to open the game. "Tell me what's been troubling you.

I look up, startled. "What makes you think something's troubling me?"

"Please." She gives me a pointed look. "I may not have known you for long, but I'm still your mother. Mothers can tell."

I sigh, moving one of my pawns to counter hers. "Is it that obvious?"

"You're doing a good job of hiding it, if it's any consolation."

I hesitate, watching her make her next move. "It's just... everything with the charity initiative, the backlash about Miles going to school, and then there's Veronica..."

My mother listens intently as I fill her in on everything-the disaster at the children's day event, the falling approval ratings, the "feud" with Veronica that the tabloids are picking at like roadkill. My mother is blissfully disconnected from the news outlets, so she wasn't aware of a lot of this. I wish I had her strength in refusing to look at the internet, but it's not so easy for a young person.

"I just feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water," I admit, capturing one of her pawns with mine. "Veronica is so... perfect. Always poised, always saying the right thing, never a hair out of place. Meanwhile, I feel like I'm constantly one step away from completely screwing up. And the media is absolutely loving it."

My mother considers this, her fingers hovering over a bishop before moving it diagonally across the board. "You're putting too much pressure on yourself, Iris. In our world, you can't do everything perfectly. It's always a balancing act."

"What do you mean?" I ask as I study the board for my next move.

"I mean that being wealthy comes with its own unique challenges," she explains. "You're constantly having to choose between pleasing the public and caring for your family. The less fortunate will always judge the more

fortunate. It's in our nature-resentment is a powerful emotion."

I nod slowly, moving my knight to threaten her bishop. "I've been on both sides now. I know what it feels like to struggle, to look at someone who has everything and think Why them and not me?""

"Exactly," my mother says. "And that's what makes you special, Iris. You have a perspective that most wealthy people lack. You're doing a splendid job of balancing what best for Miles while showing genuine care for those less fortunate. Your humble upbringing has given you insight that someone like Veronica could never have."

I frown, watching as she counters my move by repositioning her queen. "But Veronica runs a charity. She clearly cares about helping others too."

"Perhaps," my mother concedes. “But ask yourself-does she do it because she genuinely cares, or because it's expected of someone in her position? Is it passion or obligation?"

I hadn't considered that. My chess game falters as I ponder her words, making a careless move that leaves my bishop vulnerable.

"You're distracted," my mother notes, taking advantage of my mistake to capture my piece. "Check."