Chapter 11 Chapter 11
"An abandoned baby girl, born around the same time as the Lawson incident," Julius mused, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal tumbler. "And now entering the Lawson design competition. It could be a coincidence."
"We don't believe in coincidences," Helga replied sharply, removing her pearl earrings with practised precision. "Not when the Lawson fortune is involved."
Julius studied his wife's reflection in the vanity mirror. "Why is Tony suddenly interested in this girl's background? What does he know?"
"Nothing concrete, I'm sure," Helga said, applying her nighttime face cream with methodical strokes. "But he's always had a weakness for strays and lost causes. If he suspects this girl might be Roxanne Lawson..."
"Then he's playing a dangerous game," Julius finished. "Richard Lawson would tear apart anyone who interfered with his search for his daughter, even us."
Helga's eyes met his in the mirror, cold and calculating. "Unless we're the ones who find her first."
"And what exactly would we do with that information?" Julius asked, though he already knew the answer. They hadn't built Kennedy Holdings by passing up leverage.
A knock on the door stopped their conversation. It was Julius’s right-hand man, “The information we’ve found on Miss Maxwell, sir.”
Julius opened the document.
It had a current photo of a woman.
Miss Iris Rose Maxwell
Born: 24th January 2000
Parents: Unknown
Miss Maxwell was found:
As a 12-hour-old baby girl found at a fire station, but the Canadian Border at 11 pm on the 24th of January 2000
Found in a basket, wrapped in a blanket and a pin, the police are not describing the pin at this time to ensure that her rightful parents can come forward. They believe that her mother may have been a young teenager, or her grandmother may have dropped her off, as they couldn’t take this little baby off their hands.
The police and medical professionals would like the mother to come forward to get checked over to make sure that they are healthy.
Adopted by Leo and Coral Maxwell
Leo Maxwell Fire-fighter
Coral Maxwell Nurse and Part-time teacher
Other adopted children: Two sets of twin boys, Buck and Finn Maxwell (currently 15), and Jakob and Nikolaus Maxwell (currently 11)
School records considered a prodigy for someone her age, even skipped years of her schooling and learned design on her own.
Driven, outgoing to the point of being cold, some of her teachers said in her reports; however, that may have been because she has never truly fit in with children of her age or any age for that matter.
One teacher noted: Get her around her four brothers and she’s a totally different person, bright, bubbly, can’t stop smiling. As her adoptive parents, I don’t think you could have placed her with a better family, to be honest, and I think a lot of her drive comes from wanting to help out her adoptive family.
Behind that were copies of her design work.
Julius's eyes widened as he studied the documents. The photo showed a striking young woman with dark hair pulled back in a practical style, her expression serious yet unmistakably determined. Her features were delicate, refined, not unlike Elaine Lawson's in her youth.
"The timing is too perfect," Helga said, reading over his shoulder. "A baby girl, abandoned the same night the Lawson child disappeared, was found near the Canadian border hours after a Lawson Industries private jet departed New York."
Julius nodded slowly, years of business strategy already forming connections and opportunities in his mind. "If this girl is Roxanne Lawson, the implications are... significant."
"The Lawsons would pay anything to have their daughter back," Helga said, her voice hushed with the weight of possibility. "Or to keep her hidden, depending on the circumstances."
"And Tony's interest in her..." Julius trailed off, piecing together his son's unusual behaviour. "He must suspect something. That's why he was searching her records."
Helga's perfectly manicured nails tapped thoughtfully against the vanity. "We need more information. And we need to keep Tony away from her until we determine our course of action."
"The lunch with Eleanor tomorrow is fortuitous timing," Julius noted. "It will keep him occupied while we make inquiries."
"I'll arrange for someone to observe Miss Maxwell," Helga said, already reaching for her phone. "Discreetly, of course."
Julius closed the folder, his expression grave. "If she is Roxanne Lawson, we need to be careful. The Lawsons are powerful enemies to make."
"Or powerful allies," Helga corrected, a cold smile playing at her lips. "Depending on how we play this."
Across campus, unaware of the machinations beginning around her, Iris finally completed her colour theory assignment and closed her laptop with a sigh of relief. Her eyes burned from exhaustion, but satisfaction coursed through her as she checked another item off her meticulously maintained to-do list.
Her phone buzzed with a text from her adoptive mother.
Mom: Just checking in, sweetheart. The boys miss you. Dad says to tell you he found your old sketchbooks in the attic and is keeping them safe for when you're famous.
The message brought a genuine smile to Iris's face. For all her drive and ambition, for all her determination to succeed on her own terms, her family remained her anchor, the one constant in a world that often felt designed to work against her.
Iris: Tell Dad thanks. Working on designs that might make that happen sooner rather than later. Kiss the boys for me.
She set her phone down and moved to her small dresser, carefully removing the velvet box that contained her iris pin. She rarely looked at it anymore, but tonight, after the conversations with Tony about her origins, she felt compelled to examine this single link to her biological past. Would it be so bad that she knew the truth? Surely, they would want to know that she was safe and well cared for.
‘I’ll get one of the DNA test kits online, then this silly joke that’s been around her birthday can end for good.’
The silver iris pin glinted in the dim light of her dorm room, its delicate petals catching the glow from her desk lamp. Iris traced the outline with her fingertip, wondering about the hands that had fastened it to her blanket nearly twenty years ago. Had it been her mother? A grandmother? Someone who had cared enough to leave her with something beautiful, even as they left her behind?