Lorraine studied him with professional curiosity. Tall. Still. No wasted motion. His suit fit in the way uniforms did—functional, not performative. People weren’t approaching him, but they were orienting around him, recalibrating in real time.
Interesting.
“Excuse me,” she said smoothly, stepping away before the man could respond.
Elias noticed the shift immediately and fell into step beside her. “Problem?”
“Not yet,” Lorraine said. Her gaze stayed fixed ahead. “Who is that with Titus?”
Elias followed her line of sight. “Not sure. I’ve never seen him—”
A man intercepted them before he could finish, all practiced charm. “Senator. Lorraine. Good to see you.”
“Senator,” Elias said, shaking his hand. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
The man smiled. “Funny thing about tonight—full of surprises.” His eyes flicked past them, then back. “You know Kensington, of course.”
Lorraine’s hand stilled on her clutch.
“Kensington,” she repeated.
“Yes—Reid Kensington. I’d recognize him anywhere. Saw him behind Caldwell at a closed session last fall.” He leaned in just enough to lower his voice. “Didn’t realize he’d be here.”
Lorraine smiled.
It took effort.
The name carried weight. Reach. Entanglements she had no interest in touching.
“What’s he doing here?” she asked lightly.
The senator hesitated, then shrugged. “Hard to say. Donating, maybe. But when he’s in the room, decisions tend to have already been made.”
He excused himself a moment later, leaving silence in his wake.
Lorraine didn’t move.
Elias turned toward her. “He seems to be friends with our son.”
She was still watching Titus—and the man beside him.
Kensington.
The name settled into place—not loudly, not dramatically. Just a quiet alignment of facts.
Not money.
Not ambition.
Position.
Power.
She adjusted her posture, smoothing something invisible from her sleeve.
“We should go say hello,” Elias suggested gently.
Lorraine’s smile tightened—just a degree.
