Chapter 41 Chapter 41
Julius watched his wife from the doorway of her home office, his expression unreadable. For decades, he had supported her ambitions and strategies, recognising her brilliance even when her methods troubled him. But this campaign against a family whose only crime was raising an abandoned child struck him as particularly ruthless, even for Helga.
"Is this really necessary?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
Helga looked up, surprise flickering briefly across her perfectly composed features. Julius rarely questioned her tactics. "Of course it's necessary. The Lawson shipping contract represents a 30% increase in our annual revenue. With Antony's obvious attachment to the girl, we have unprecedented leverage."
Julius stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him. "And if our son discovers this, he's likely to disown us, after all, he hasn't been living in the condo we bought for him to go to college, and he bought something he knew you wouldn’t like, this won’t end up any different. Besides, after watching him watch her with the Lawsons in the library, I believe he's fallen in love with her, and if he thinks you're trying to hurt her, this won’t end well. He's our only heir.”
Helga Kennedy's face tightened at Julius's unexpected challenge. His mention of Tony having fallen in love with the Maxwell girl struck a nerve. She had watched her son's increasing independence with growing concern, but had attributed it to youthful rebellion rather than genuine emotional attachment.
"Love is a strong word, Julius," she said dismissively, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. "Antony is infatuated, certainly. The girl is pretty enough in that understated way, and her obvious talent makes her an interesting novelty compared to the socialites we've introduced him to."
Julius shook his head, recognizing his wife's characteristic refusal to acknowledge what didn't fit her plans. "I saw his face in those photographs, Helga. That wasn't infatuation. And if you continue down this path, attacking the family she loves, you'll lose him."
Across town at the Lawson estate, dinner had been served in the formal dining room. The long mahogany table, normally set for just Richard and his sons, now included Iris and Tony. Dianne had insisted on using the best china and silver, a gesture that simultaneously honoured the occasion's significance and created a formality that felt somewhat overwhelming to Iris.
"Is the salmon to your liking?" Dianne asked anxiously, watching as Iris took a careful bite. "The chef can prepare something else if you'd prefer."
"It's delicious," Iris assured her, uncomfortable with the obvious effort being made on her behalf. At home, dinners were chaotic affairs with the twins jostling for seconds while her mother reminded everyone about table manners. This orchestrated meal, with servants appearing silently to refill water glasses and remove finished plates, felt like dining in a museum.
Richard observed his daughter's discomfort with a pang of regret. The world they were introducing her to was as foreign to her as her modest upbringing was to them. Twenty years of separation had created a chasm deeper than mere biology could bridge.
“So tell us more about the fashion house you're going to set up? Do you have a business name yet?” Bryce asked.
“Yeah, it’s called Iris Rose Design’s, but umm…”
"I suppose with everything that's happened today, I might need to reconsider the name," Iris admitted, glancing around the table. "It feels strange to keep using just my first and middle name now that I know I'm also Roxanne Lawson."
Theodore leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. "You could incorporate both identities. Something that honours who you've always been while acknowledging who you've discovered yourself to be."
"Maxwell-Lawson Designs," Bryce suggested enthusiastically. "Or Iris Roxanne Creations."
Iris toyed with her water glass, considering the suggestions. The analytical part of her mind that had guided her through every major decision was working overtime, trying to integrate these new revelations into her sense of self.
"I need time to think about it," she said finally. "Everything's happening so quickly."
Richard nodded, understanding in his weathered face. "There's no rush, Iris. You have a lifetime to decide how you want to incorporate this new knowledge into your identity."
Dianne watched her daughter with barely concealed emotion. Every gesture, every thoughtful pause, reminded her of the infant she had held for only one precious day. Even the way Iris tilted her head when considering a question mirrored Dianne's own habit.
"Whatever you choose," Dianne said softly, "your talent will shine through. The designs speak for themselves."
Across town, Leo Maxwell sat at his kitchen table long after the boys had gone to bed. Carol joined him, setting down two mugs of tea before taking the seat beside him.
"You're worried," she observed, knowing her husband too well to be fooled by his outward calm.
Leo sighed, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. "I keep thinking about what this means for her. For all of us. These people, the Lawsons, they're not just rich, Carol. They're powerful. Connected. What if they try to take her from us?"
Carol reached across the table to cover his hand with hers. "No one can take her, Leo. She's nineteen. And more importantly, she loves us. Finding her birth family doesn't change that."
"I know," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "But I keep remembering that night at the station. How tiny she was, wrapped in that blanket. How perfect." He looked up, his eyes damp. "She's been our daughter for nineteen years. I'm not ready to share her."
Back at the Lawson estate, dinner had concluded, and the family had moved to the more comfortable setting of the library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, interspersed with family photographs that chronicled the Lawsons' history. Iris noticed that the photos stopped including Dianne about twenty years ago, as if her kidnapping had frozen her birth mother in time.
"I spoke with the competition committee," Richard said, settling into his favourite leather chair. "They've agreed to transform your entry into a showcase of your return to our family, thanks to your entry in the competition. I have always done background checks on those who submit entries in hopes that one day we might have our girl return to us through the competition, and this time she has, so even if young Mr Kennedy hadn’t done one first, I would have done one and approached you just possibly without the fanfare of his parents.”
Iris sat stunned, absorbing what Richard had just said. The revelation that he would have found her regardless of Tony's intervention struck her with unexpected force. All these years, her birth father had been quietly searching, reviewing competition entries in hopes of finding the daughter he'd lost.
"You would have found me anyway," she said softly, her analytical mind recalibrating the sequence of events that had led to this moment.
Tony watched her process this information, noting the subtle shift in her expression. The burden of being the catalyst for this life-changing reunion had weighed on him throughout the day; Richard's admission seemed to ease that burden.