After the Cold Marriage His Crazy Love (Iris and Julian) novel Chapter 355

Chapter 355 The DNA Results

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The phone rang twice before Iris picked up. She barely raised it to her ear when Brandon’s steady voice came through. “Iris, the DNA results are back. I just received the file. Want to go over it together?”

“Let’s look at it together,” Iris replied. She felt she needed to be there when the report was opened–otherwise, it wouldn’t feel completely real.

“Okay,” Brandon said. “I can come pick you up.”

“Pick me up?”

“You can come over to my place. We’ll open it here with my dad.”

A flicker of nerves passed through her. “You don’t have to drive all the way. I’ll just head over.”

“Alright,” Brandon agreed.

Hanging up, Iris grabbed her purse and keys and made for the door.

As she started down the stairs, Frederick rose from his seat, studying her expression as if trying to read her thoughts.

Crossing the living room, Iris said, “Grandma, I need to step out for a bit.”

Beatrice nodded quietly.

Frederick grew restless. He gestured toward the family heirlooms and car keys still lying on the coffee table. “Aren’t you going to put these away?”

Iris sighed softly. “Mr. Everhart, I really don’t want them.”

To Frederick, “don’t want them” sounded dangerously close to “I’m moving on.”

He panicked. “If you won’t take them, then I’ll leave them for Harper. You can keep them in trust for her.”

Iris was in too much of a hurry to argue. “Just leave them there for now. When Julian gets back, you can give them to him.”

She walked over to her daughter, kissed her forehead, whispered a few words, and headed out.

Soon she was on the road, driving toward Whitmore Manor.

She’d stayed there for a few days after Brandon had helped her following the accident, so she

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knew the way well.

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It was an expansive, elegant property–more like a private park than a home, with rolling lawns, curated gardens, and even a small golf course in the distance.

As she pulled up to the wrought–iron gate, the security guard recognized her and opened it immediately.

She followed the main drive through the picturesque grounds, finally parking in front of an impressive Georgian–style villa.

The butler, Walter, had been waiting. He stepped forward promptly and opened her car door. “Good morning, Ms. Whitlow.”

“Good morning, Walter,” Iris said, unfastening her seatbelt. “It’s been a while.”

“Indeed it has,” he replied warmly. “Three years gone in the blink of an eye. Feels like just yesterday.”

Brandon emerged from the house, dressed in relaxed weekend clothes, hands in his pockets. His sharp brows and bright eyes softened with a warm, gentle smile. “Iris, you’re here.”

She turned toward him. “Yes.”

“Come on in.”

They walked side by side into the villa.

The interior was stunning–a grand foyer larger than some city apartments, with marble floors and a sweeping staircase that gave the space a palatial feel.

“My dad has some friends over,” Brandon mentioned as they walked. “Don’t worry about them.”

“Will I be interrupting?”

“Not at all. We can use the study to look over the report.”

They passed through the foyer into the main living area.

Cayden was there, sipping coffee and chatting with several men around his age–all of them polished, distinguished, exuding an air of quiet success.

“Hello, Cayden,” Iris said with a polite nod.

Hearing her voice, Cayden turned. His face lit up, and he rose excitedly.

“Iris!” he said, crossing the room with a broad smile. He gave her a light, affectionate hug, his

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hand resting gently on her back. “It’s been far too long.”

“It’s good to see you, Cayden.”

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Cayden pulled back, looking her over fondly. “You look more lovely every time, Iris. Come―let me introduce you.”

He guided her toward the small group of gentlemen, offering introductions.

Each man was accomplished–the kind of person whose career could fill a biography.

When it was Iris‘ turn, Cayden couldn’t hide his pride. “This is my son’s close friend, Iris Whitlow. She’s a leading pharmaceutical researcher specializing in rare diseases. The youngest recipient of the National Science Award in its history–holds three major patents…”

Before he could finish, the men were already rising to their feet, extending their hands toward Iris with genuine enthusiasm. They knew exactly who she was.

“Ms. Whitlow,” one said, shaking her hand warmly, “I’ve seen your coverage in the journals and the press. To be honest, I thought the photos must have been flattering, but you’re even more impressive in person. Truly remarkable.”

“You’re too kind,” Iris replied graciously.

One by one, the others shook her hand as well, their compliments thoughtful and earnest, admiration clear in their eyes.

“Cayden, you’ve hit the jackpot,” one gentleman remarked with a chuckle. “Your son’s closest friend is one of the brightest minds in biopharma. We’re all a little envious. Your mother was a pioneering pathologist, you built that pharmaceutical empire, your wife and son are top–tier surgeons–and even Brandon’s inner circle includes a researcher of this caliber. The Whitmores really are a medical dynasty through and through. Incredible.”

Cayden beamed, pride swelling visibly, though he tried to sound modest. “Oh, stop–you’re too

generous,”

Noticing the misunderstanding, Brandon stepped in gently. “Actually, gentlemen, Iris isn’t my girlfriend. We’re good friends.”

The men smiled politely, offering quick, courteous apologies.

Cayden’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. He shot his son a brief, pointed look. All this time and you still haven’t figured it out?

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