Page 11 of The Last Morgan
She knew better.
They needed time to regroup. To whisper, plot, call lawyers. Let them.
Lucy wandered into the kitchen, barefoot, the marble cool beneath her feet. Staff moved quickly, efficiently, eyes flicking toward her then back to their tasks. No one asked questions. But curiosity lingered.
They remembered the child who once played in these halls — and now here she was again, older, sharper, harder to read.
She requested food for herself and Corey while they waited for their rooms to be prepared. The request was met with immediate movement.
Carter had already left. He was back on the inside, chasing the last threads of a case that had long grown cold. He believed the corruption ran deep, maybe even into law enforcement itself.
That thought sat uneasily in her stomach.
Later, once she had settled in her room, Lucy decided to walk around the house, tracing old footsteps. The halls seemed longer than she remembered. The walls, somehow taller. Her fingers brushed furniture she hadn’t seen since she was eight.
She paused at her brothers’ old room.
The door was just as it had been — dark wood, slightly scuffed at the bottom from where one of them used to kick it open. She reached out, fingers grazing the surface.
She waited for grief. For sorrow. For the ache that should have come.
But nothing did.
Only the heat of anger. Not the kind that flared and faded, but the kind that stayed buried and kept you sharp.
She stepped away, her jaw set.
They had taken everything from her.
But now… it was her turn to take everything back.
Chapter 8
“It’s a good thing your aunt and uncle are out of the house,” Corey said as he found Lucy standing in the hallway.
“It’s time for you to relive that night. Like we discussed.”
His voice was calm, steady — but it struck her like a command.
She swallowed hard, the heat in her throat climbing too fast, too sharp.
Behind her, Corey’s voice came again — this time, firmer.
“It’s time for you to visit the dreaded cupboard.”
Her whole body stiffened.
She had known this moment would come. Part of the process. Part of the training.
Return to the place where it all ended. Revisit. Re-examine.
Knowing didn’t make it easier.
The thought of crawling back into that tiny space where time had stopped made her stomach turn.
Fortunately, her awful aunt and uncle had taken their dreadful children with them for the night.
No watching eyes therefore no judgment.
