Chapter 50 Chapter 50
Across campus in her faculty apartment, Professor Eleanor Winters was working late, reviewing student portfolios, when an email notification appeared on her screen. The sender, Theodore Lawson, immediately caught her attention. As head of the university's design department, she had connections throughout the industry, but direct communication from the Lawson family's chief legal representative was unusual.
The email was brief but staggering in its implications: one of her most promising students, Iris Maxwell, had been identified through DNA testing as the long-missing Roxanne Lawson. A formal statement would be released to the press in the morning, but Professor Winters was being notified in advance out of professional courtesy.
Eleanor sat back in her chair, stunned by the revelation. Iris Maxwell, her quiet, extraordinarily talented student with the meticulous designs and practical ambitions, was actually the kidnapped Lawson baby whose disappearance had made international headlines twenty years ago.
"Good Lord," she murmured, removing her reading glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. This would create a whirlwind of attention around her department, the university, and most importantly, around Iris herself.
Eleanor had always prided herself on recognising genuine talent, on nurturing students based solely on merit rather than connections or background. She had championed Iris precisely because the young woman's work demonstrated exceptional vision despite her modest resources. Now, inevitably, people would question whether she had unconsciously favoured a Lawson, even when neither of them knew of the connection.
She reached for her phone, then hesitated. It was well after midnight, too late to call a student, even under these extraordinary circumstances. Instead, she drafted a quick email to Iris, requesting a meeting before her first class tomorrow morning. Whatever storm was about to break, Eleanor was determined to ensure her most promising student had the departmental support she would need.
In her dorm room, Iris finally surrendered to exhaustion, falling into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of silver iris pins, grand mansions with locked studio doors, and faces that somehow seemed both strange and familiar. Rachel watched her roommate with concern before quietly setting her own alarm earlier than usual. Whatever happened tomorrow, Iris would need a friend by her side.
Morning arrived with disorienting brightness. For a brief, blissful moment after opening her eyes, Iris existed in the liminal space between sleep and full consciousness, her identity still whole and uncomplicated. Then reality crashed back; she was Iris Maxwell and Roxanne Lawson, simultaneously the person she had always been and someone entirely new.
Her phone screen glowed with notifications: a message from Tony promising to meet her for breakfast, an email from Professor Winters requesting an early meeting, and a text from Theodore confirming the statement would be released at 8 AM. It was 6:30 now, giving her ninety minutes before her world would irrevocably change in the public eye.
Rachel was already awake, dressed in what Iris recognised as her "serious business" outfit, dark jeans and a blazer over a simple top. "Morning," she said, holding out a steaming travel mug. "Made you coffee. Extra strong."
"You're dressed up," Iris observed, accepting the coffee gratefully.
Rachel shrugged, a determined glint in her eye. "If I'm going to be running interference between my roommate and curious vultures all day, I'm doing it properly dressed."
Across campus, Tony Kennedy was already awake, having slept poorly. His phone displayed seven calls from his mother and at least a dozen messages on Discord from his business classmates.
One message from a classmate stood out: "Is it true you're dating the Maxwell girl? The same one the one that the Lawson’s came looking for yesterday?" Tony ignored it, setting his phone aside as he dressed in record time. He needed to reach Iris before the statement went public, to be by her side when the inevitable storm hit.
In the Lawson mansion, the entire household was already awake despite the early hour. Richard sat in his study, phone in hand, having just finished a call with the family's head of security.
"The statement is ready to go at eight," Theodore confirmed, looking impeccably put together despite the early hour. "I've notified key faculty members, and security is in place around Iris's dormitory and classrooms."
"Have we heard from the Maxwells?" Richard asked, the lines around his eyes deepening with concern.
Theodore nodded, checking his tablet. "They sent a message an hour ago. They're overwhelmed by our gesture but grateful. They've agreed to visit this weekend, all six of them."
Relief washed over Richard's face. The thought of meeting the people who had raised his daughter, of thanking them personally for giving her the love and stability he couldn't provide, had kept him awake much of the night.
"And Dianne? How is she this morning?"
"Already in the studio," Theodore replied, a hint of wonder in his voice. "She's been there since before dawn, sketching exhibition layouts."
In her dormitory bathroom, Iris stared at her reflection, wondering if others would suddenly see the Lawson features she had never recognised in herself. The shape of her eyes, Dianne's eyes. The determined set of her jaw, Richard's jaw. She touched the silver iris pin secured to her sweater, the talisman that had connected her past to her present.
"Professor Winters wants to see you at 7:30," Rachel reminded her, hovering in the doorway with uncharacteristic nervousness. "Tony texted that he's waiting downstairs."
Iris nodded, gathering her portfolio and phone. "Let's get this over with."
The campus was quiet at this early hour, though Iris noticed several students doing double-takes as she and Rachel crossed the quad with Tony. Word had clearly spread overnight about her connection to both the Lawsons and Tony Kennedy, creating a ripple of whispers in their wake.
Professor Winters was waiting in her office, silver-streaked hair pulled back in her trademark severe bun, eyes sharp behind designer glasses. She rose when Iris entered, waving away Tony and Rachel.
"I need to speak with Ms Maxwell alone, please."
Once the door closed, Professor Winters studied Iris with penetrating intensity. "I received quite the email last night," she said without preamble. "Quite extraordinary circumstances you find yourself in."
"Yes, Professor," Iris replied, her composed exterior masking the tumult beneath. "I only learned of it myself yesterday."
Professor Winters nodded, her expression remained neutral.