Chapter 62 Chapter 62
Carol considered this, her teacher's mind evaluating the potential impact on their sons. "They might be a bit starry-eyed at first. But our boys know what matters. They know that money doesn't equal happiness." She squeezed his hand. "Besides, they're excited about meeting their sister's other brothers more than seeing a mansion."
Across campus in her dormitory room, Iris sat at her desk, trying to focus on a design project while Rachel peppered her with questions about her dinner with Tony. The evening news played quietly on Rachel's laptop, and Iris nearly dropped her pencil when she heard her own name mentioned by the anchorwoman.
"In continuing coverage of the Lawson family reunion, sources confirm that Iris Maxwell, now identified as the long-missing Roxanne Lawson, was spotted dining with Kennedy heir Antony Kennedy III at Salvatore's restaurant earlier this evening."
Rachel scrambled to turn up the volume as grainy footage appeared, showing Iris and Tony leaving through the restaurant's back entrance, his hand protectively at her back as they quickly entered a waiting car.
"Oh my god," Rachel breathed. "They're actually stalking you."
Iris stared at the screen, a surreal feeling washing over her as she watched herself become a news item. The analytical part of her mind noted the angle of the footage and the distance of the photographer, and they must have been using a telephoto lens from across the street, in the alley.
"Theodore warned me this would happen," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "The statement was supposed to satisfy initial curiosity, but apparently a reunion story isn't enough without a romance angle."
Rachel studied her roommate's face, concerned by her outward composure. "Are you okay? This is seriously invasive."
Iris took a deep breath, centring herself. "I'm processing. The security team was at least prepared. And Tony..." She paused, a small smile softening her features despite the circumstances. "Tony handled it like he's been dealing with this his whole life."
"He probably has," Rachel pointed out. "The Kennedys are practically American royalty."
At the Lawson estate, Richard was in his study, reviewing security reports, when Theodore entered with a tablet. The eldest Lawson son's expression was carefully neutral, but Richard immediately recognised the tension in his shoulders.
"There's footage of Iris and Tony Kennedy leaving the restaurant," Theodore reported, passing the tablet to his father.
Richard examined the footage with a critical eye, noting the protective stance Tony had taken, positioning himself between Iris and the camera as they moved toward the vehicle.
"The security detail handled it well," Richard observed. "Clean extraction, minimal exposure."
"Yes," Theodore agreed, "but this is just the beginning. Every move she makes will now be documented. The interest will only intensify once the Metropolitan Gallery exhibition is announced."
Richard leaned back in his leather chair, the weight of responsibility settling more heavily on his shoulders. Finding Roxanne, finding Iris, had been his singular focus for twenty years. The reality of what her life would be like now, under the constant scrutiny of public interest, was something he hadn't fully anticipated in his joy at discovering she was alive.
"We need to increase her security detail," he decided. "Discreetly. I don't want her to feel imprisoned, but her safety is non-negotiable."
Theodore nodded, making notes on his tablet. "I've already spoken with the university about adjusting her class schedule to minimise exposure. Professor Winters has been remarkably accommodating."
Across the estate in her newly reclaimed studio, Dianne was unaware of the latest developments, lost in the flow of creation as her hands shaped clay with practised precision. The sculpture taking form beneath her fingers was unlike anything she had created before, a fusion of classical elements with contemporary lines that echoed Iris's design aesthetic. The artistic conversation between mother and daughter that had begun in this very room was continuing through Dianne's work, bridging twenty years of separation.
Victor entered quietly, watching his mother work with a mixture of wonder and protective concern. He had been eight years old when his sister was taken, old enough to remember the vibrant, creative woman his mother had been before grief hollowed her out. Seeing her like this again, fully present, fully engaged in her art, stirred emotions he typically kept firmly in check.
"Mother," he said gently, not wanting to startle her. "It's past midnight."
Dianne looked up, momentarily disoriented as she transitioned from creative flow back to reality. "Is it? I completely lost track of time." She smiled, an expression that had been rare for twenty years but was becoming wonderfully familiar again. "I haven't done that since..."
"Since before," Victor finished for her, understanding the unspoken reference to the dividing line in their family history, before and after Roxanne's kidnapping.
"There's been a development," he continued, knowing his mother would want to be informed despite the late hour. "Footage of Iris and Tony Kennedy leaving a restaurant has made the evening news. They're both fine," he added quickly, seeing alarm flash across his mother's features. "Security handled it efficiently. But the media interest is escalating."
In her dormitory room, Iris had finally turned away from the news coverage, focusing instead on finalising her design project for Professor Winters' class. Rachel had fallen asleep, her quiet breathing a steady counterpoint to the occasional ping of messages in the college's Discord channel.
A message from Tony appeared on her screen: Just got home. Security says campus is clear for now. Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be easier.
Iris smiled at his optimism, though she doubted tomorrow would be any less complicated than today had been. Still, knowing Tony would be there made the prospect more bearable. She typed a quick reply: Thank you for dinner. For everything. Goodnight.