I sink into a chair, realizing she''s right. But this is what I wanted, isn''t it? To be by Arthur''s side in public, to pronounce our love


    to the world.


    What follows is the most intense beauty regimen I''ve ever experienced. My hair is washed, dried, styled, and then restyled when


    the stylist decides the first attempt is "too provincial."


    My-face is analyzed relentlessly, with discussions about bone structure and undertones that make me feel like a science


    experiment. My eyebrows are shaped, my nails buffed and painted a neutral shade of pink


    The dress selection process is equally exhausting. Each option is analyzed for political implications. A red dress is "too aggressive for a first appearance." Blue is "too reminiscent of the opposition party''s colors." Green is "sending mixed environmental messages considering the Alpha President''s recent legition."


    I never realized clothing could be so politically charged.


    After hours of this, I''m starting to question everything. If a simple g appearance requires this much preparation, what would.


    this much


    daily life be like as Arthur''s mate? Would every outfit be scrutinized, every appearance nned to the minute? Could I live like


    that? Could Miles?


    By sunset-yes, it takes that long, so long that we all have to sto


    stop multiple times for meals and bathroom breaks-the transformation isplete. I stand in front of the full-length mirror they''ve somehow materialized in my living room, barely


    recognizing myself.


    My hair is elegantly styled in loose waves, pinned back on one side with a subtle diamond clip. My makeup is wless but not overdone, enhancing my features while still looking natural. The dress they''ve finally settled on is a deep emerald silk that flows like water when I move, cut to tter my figure without being too revealing.


    "Well?" the stylist asks, watching my reaction carefully.


    1 turn, admiring how the dress catches the light. "It''s... beautiful," I admit. And it is. Despite all my irritation with the process, I can''t deny the results are stunning. I''ve never looked like this before-polished, elegant, like I belong in the world of gs and


    diplomats.


    "The green is perfect with your coloring," the stylist says, clearly pleased with her work. "Sophisticated but with a creative edge. The silhouette works well for press photos, and the color photographs beautifully under sh."


    Of course. Everything is perfectly calcted for maximum media impact.


    Just then, a knock at the door interrupts us. Emi opens it, revealing Arthur standing in the hallway. He''s wearing a perfectly tailored ck tuxedo that makes


    him look even more handsome than usual, if that''s possible.


    He stops short when he sees me, his eyes widening slightly.


    "Iris," he breathes, taking a step into the apartment. "You look... incredible."


    20 BonuE


    Despite myself, I blush. "Thank you. Apparently, there''s a lot that goes into being presentable for the public eye." I think I''m


    finally starting to understand why Selina was-is-such a narcissist. How can one not be when they spend entire days at a time focusing on their appearance, and looking damn good afterwards?


    Arthur nces at the others. "Could you give us a moment?"


    Everyone, even Emi and Ezra, discreetly steps out, leaving us alone in the living


    room.


    "I''m sorry about all this," Arthur says, gesturing to the beauty station setup. "I should have warned you."


    "Yes, you should have," I agree, but I''m not angry. "Is it always going to be like this? Teams of people, every detail nned and analyzed?"


    Arthur steps closer, taking my hand gently, "Not always. Just for big events, important appearances. The rest of the time, you can be yourself."


    "Can I?" I ask softly. "Or will I always be the Alpha President''s human mate, under constant scrutiny?"


    His expression softens. "Iris, you''re beautiful with or without all of this. You''re utterly captivating just being you. Soon enough, the public will realize the thing I''ve known for years."


    My heart flutters traitorously in my chest. Damn him and his perfect words.


    He grins, sensing the shift in my demeanor. "Is Miles ready for his sleepover with Alice and Hunter?"


    "Yes. He''s very excited." Thankfully, Alice and Hunter agreed to be babysitters tonight, both refusing to take payment. I''m aiready thinking of ways to make it up to them.


    A little whileter, Alice and Hunter arrive, and it''s time to go. Alice beams at me, giving me a tight hug before I leave. "You''re gonna do great,” she whispers in my ear. "They''ll love you. And you look fucking hot."


    I hope she''s right. Even about thatst part.


    The drive to the g venue is mostly silent. I bob my leg in my seat, nervous beyondpare. I''ve never been this nervous attending any events as ''Flora'', not even when I had to give my presentation for the residency.


    Finally, we arrive at the venue, and Arthur opens the car door. The crowd erupts in cheers as he steps out. Camera shes light up the night sky. Arthur turns, extending his hand to help me out.


    I ce my hand in his, steadying myself as I emerge from the car. The noise is overwhelming-hundreds of voices all shouting at once, some cheering, some


    booing.


    But it''s the cameras that really hit me-dozens, maybe hundreds of shes going off simultaneously, blinding me.