Dylan's Office
Dylan finishes his meeting, his mind still wandering to the events of the rooftop party. Before he can lose himself in those thoughts again, a knock on the door interrupts him. His secretary, Sally Monroe, steps in, her expression unreadable.
"Mr. Orwell, your ex-wife is here," she informs him.
Dylan exhales sharply. "Catrine?"
"She wants to have lunch with you. She didn't specify the reason, but I assume it's about Mason and Melissa."
Dylan leans back in his chair, rubbing his temple. He doesn't enjoy interacting with Catrine beyond co-parenting matters, but if she's reaching out, it must be important. He lets out a sigh.
"Fine. Tell her I'll meet her at Le Maison at one."
Sally nods and exits, leaving Dylan to stare at his desk, his mind already dreading the conversation ahead.
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Meanwhile, Mason catches up with Lana and Carlyle after class.
"Hey, you guys up for lunch? I'm taking you to my favorite spot," Mason grins.
Lana perks up, but Carlyle immediately shakes her head.
"I've got something to do," she says, tucking a notebook into her bag.
Lana raises an eyebrow. "You? Turning down a fancy lunch? That's suspicious."
Carlyle smirks but doesn't elaborate. "Have fun without me." She waves them off, leaving Lana with a lingering curiosity.
"Just us, then," Mason shrugs. "Hope you're hungry."
Lana laughs, following him toward the restaurant.
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Le Maison Restaurant
At the restaurant, Dylan and Catrine sit across from each other, the atmosphere between them tense as usual.
Dylan barely looks at the menu before setting it down. "Let's cut to the chase, Catrine. Why are you really here?"
Catrine stirs her wine glass lazily. "You're always so impatient, Dylan. Can't I enjoy a meal first?"
Dylan doesn't react. "If it's about money, just say it."
Catrine lets out a soft chuckle. "You really think so little of me?" She leans back in her seat, crossing her arms. "Fine. It's about Mason and Melissa."
Dylan exhales. "What about them?"
"Melissa needs more money. She called me yesterday, saying her allowance isn't enough."
Dylan scoffs. "She has more than enough. If she needs extra, she can get a part-time job."
Catrine smirks. "Oh, please. You and I both know Melissa wouldn't survive in a regular job. Besides, she's your daughter. Shouldn't she be focused on her studies instead of worrying about money?"
Dylan glares at her. "No, she should be learning responsibility instead of acting entitled."
Catrine shrugs. "Like father, like daughter."
Dylan clenches his jaw. "And Mason?"
Catrine sighs dramatically. "He's been distracted lately. You know why."
Dylan raises an eyebrow. "Go on."
"It's that girl—Lana Carter," Catrine states. "He talks about her often. And now, I finally get to see what kind of girl she is."
Dylan's eyes darken. "So that's what this is about. You wanted to meet Lana so you can judge her?"
Catrine takes a sip of her wine, not denying it. "I want to know who's hanging around my son. Especially when girls like her tend to have… motives."
Dylan clenches his jaw but doesn't argue. He already knows how this lunch is going to go.
When Lana and Mason step into the upscale restaurant, Lana is immediately impressed by the elegant atmosphere. But before they can even reach their table, Mason suddenly stops in his tracks.
"Oh, great," he mutters.
Lana follows his gaze and sees a well-dressed woman sitting across from none other than Dylan Orwell.
"My mom's here," Mason sighs before leading Lana toward them.
Dylan's eyes meet Lana's for the briefest moment, but he quickly masks any reaction.
Without hesitation, Mason leads her over.
"Hey, Mom."
Catrine looks up, raising an eyebrow. "Mason. What a coincidence." Her gaze shifts to Lana. "And you must be the famous Lana Carter."
Lana swallows. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Jones."
Catrine gives Lana a once-over, and though she doesn't say anything outright rude, there's a certain iciness in her gaze. Lana shifts slightly, already feeling uncomfortable.
Catrine gestures for them to sit. "Join us."
Dylan, who has been silent, finally speaks. "You don't have to if you're uncomfortable." His eyes flicker to Lana's, making her heart skip.
"It's fine," she says quickly, sitting beside Mason.
As lunch progresses, Lana can't shake the feeling of being under scrutiny. Catrine asks question after question, each one feeling more like an interrogation than polite conversation.
"So, Lana. Where are you from?"
"A small town. My family owns a farm."
Catrine raises an eyebrow. "A farm? Quite different from the city, isn't it? Do you think you'll manage here?"
Lana forces a smile. "I think so. NYU is my dream school."
Catrine hums in response, taking a sip of her wine. "Mason's mentioned you before. A pen pal, right? Interesting that you two finally met in person."
Lana nods, feeling Mason's reassuring presence beside her.
Across the table, Dylan remains quiet but observant, his gaze lingering on Lana a second too long whenever she speaks. His attention is subtle enough that no one else notices—except Mason.
Mason narrows his eyes at his father. Dylan meets his son's gaze briefly before returning to his meal, unreadable.
Catrine continues. "And your studies? What do you plan to do with a Business degree?"
Lana shifts slightly. "I haven't decided yet, but I'd like to start my own business someday."
Catrine's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "That's… ambitious."
Lana grips her fork a little tighter. She can't shake the feeling that Catrine doesn't like her—but she has no idea why.
Meanwhile, Dylan remains quiet, his gaze flickering to Lana every so often. For him, the world around him is just noise. The way Lana bites her lip when she's nervous, the way she shifts uncomfortably under Catrine's questions—it holds his attention in ways he never expected.
And Mason, watching his father closely, knows one thing for sure—Dylan Orwell is looking at Lana differently.