Chapter 10 Chapter 10
Tony's pulse quickened. Of course, his father would have told her about the security alert. "She's helping with my business ethics paper. She has an interesting perspective on sustainable entrepreneurship."
"Maxwell," Helga repeated, as though testing the name. "Not a family I'm familiar with."
"They wouldn't be in your social circle, Mother." Tony couldn't keep the edge from his voice. "Not everyone at the university is there because of family connections."
Julius looked up sharply. "Mind your tone, Antony. Your mother is simply taking an interest in your studies."
Tony knew better. Helga Kennedy never "simply" did anything. Every question, every comment had layers of calculation behind it.
"I apologise," he said, the words hollow but necessary. "It's been a long day."
His mother studied him for a moment longer, her perfectly made-up face revealing nothing. "Indeed. We'll discuss this further tomorrow. I've taken the liberty of arranging lunch with Eleanor. Just the two of you, at Maison Laurent."
Tony felt his carefully constructed façade crack slightly. "I have classes tomorrow."
"Not at noon, according to your schedule," Helga replied smoothly. "I checked with your academic advisor."
Of course, she had. Tony fought to keep his expression neutral, knowing any protest would only make things worse. "How thoughtful of you."
The car pulled up to his apartment building, and Tony had never been so grateful to see it. He wanted something real, and he knew Eleanor wanted the same thing; she had been with the same woman for four years, and that wasn’t going to change.
“Iris was helping me with my assignment, but I’ve been helping her set up a business plan. She’s quite talented in full fashion design, recently won a competition and entered the Lawson competition. I probably shouldn’t say this, but she was adopted and found at a fire station, so she doesn’t know who her birth parents are.”
Helga's eyebrows shot up at this unexpected offering of information. A calculating look crossed her face that Tony immediately recognised and regretted. He'd said too much, trying to downplay his interest in Iris by presenting her as a charity case rather than a romantic interest.
"Abandoned at a fire station? How unfortunate," Helga said, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "And when was this poor girl born?"
Tony hesitated, suddenly aware of the trap he'd set for himself. "I'm not sure of the exact date," he lied, avoiding his mother's piercing gaze.
Julius, who had been scrolling through emails on his phone, now looked up with renewed interest. "The Lawson competition? Isn't that the one commemorating the kidnapped Lawson child?"
"Yes, father. The twentieth anniversary of her disappearance," Tony replied, his stomach tightening. He'd made a terrible mistake bringing up Iris at all.
Helga and Julius exchanged a look that Tony couldn't quite interpret. There was something in that glance, a shared knowledge, perhaps, or a concern, that made him deeply uncomfortable.
"Well, it's admirable that you're helping the less fortunate with their little projects," Helga said dismissively. "But do remember that your primary focus should be on relationships that advance our family's interests."
Tony nodded stiffly and stepped out of the car. "Goodnight, Mother. Father."
As the town car pulled away, Tony stood in the cold night air, cursing himself. He'd wanted to deflect his mother's suspicions about his interest in Iris, but instead, he'd painted a target on her back. If there was even the slightest possibility that Iris was connected to the Lawsons, his parents would now be motivated to investigate.
Across town, Iris sat cross-legged on her dorm room bed, unaware of the conversation that had just taken place. She was staring at her phone, wondering if she'd overstepped by asking Tony about his evening. It was unlike her to reach out socially without a specific purpose.
Her phone lit up with his reply.
Antony_K: Sorry for the delay. Just got home. Dinner was excruciating. Would much rather have been at Café Meridian drinking your lattes.
A small smile tugged at her lips. It was a simple message, but something about it felt genuine in a way that most of her interactions didn't. Before she could overthink it, she typed a response.
Iris_M: Café Meridian's lattes aren't that special. But they're better than formal dinners, I'll give you that.
In his apartment, Tony grinned at her response. He could almost hear her saying it, the slight sarcasm, the reluctant admission. He wanted to continue the conversation, to ask her about her day, her designs, anything to keep this tenuous connection going. But the weight of his earlier mistake hung over him like a cloud. How could he have been so careless? How could he have mentioned Iris's adoption to his mother of all people?
Antony_K: The company would be better at Meridian, too. I've got a lunch obligation tomorrow I'd rather skip. Any chance you're working?
He sent the message, hoping she might be there, hoping he could warn her in person about his parents' potential interest in her background. He needed to fix this somehow, to protect her from the storm he might have just unleashed.
Iris read his message with a slight furrow in her brow. There was something different in his tone, an urgency that hadn't been there before.
Iris_M: Morning shift tomorrow, done by 11. Why?
Tony's shoulders slumped with disappointment. He wouldn't be able to see her before his forced lunch with Eleanor.
Antony_K: Just hoping to grab a coffee. Maybe another time. Good luck with the interview prep.
Iris set her phone down, puzzled by the exchange. Something felt off, but she couldn't quite identify what. Perhaps Tony was simply tired after his formal dinner. Or perhaps, like most people in her life, his interest was already waning now that he'd provided the business advice she'd needed.
The thought shouldn't have bothered her; she'd never expected anything more than a professional interaction, but somehow, it did. She pushed the feeling aside and returned to her colour theory assignment, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand rather than the confusing emotions Tony Kennedy seemed to evoke.
Across the city, in their penthouse apartment, Julius and Helga Kennedy sat in the plush seating area of their bedroom suite, speaking in hushed tones despite the absence of household staff at this late hour.