Page 18 of The Last Morgan
She pressed her back into the seat, gripping the armrest.
Corey turned slowly. “You alright?” he asked.
She didn’t answer immediately. She was still seeing ghosts.
“Hey,” he said again, a little softer this time. His voice was low and unsure. Emotion was foreign territory for him.
That awkward sincerity made her laugh. A single, unexpected laugh that bubbled out of her chest.
Corey blinked, caught off guard. He wasn’t used to being the soft one.
“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “It just… hit me harder than I thought.”
Corey shifted in his seat.
“You’re allowed to feel it, you know.”
Lucy looked at him — really looked. Corey never spoke like that. He was rough edges and fight-first. But she knew his story.
He’d been raised with the Oxley’s after his parents gave him up. No murder, no bloodshed — just abandonment.
But that was enough to make him angry. Always angry.
And yet, here he was, showing up for her.
He reached over and gripped her hand, his touch rough but steady.
“I’m here,” he said. “Let’s go.”
That was all Lucy needed.
She stepped out of the car with Corey at her side, their shoes clicking against the marble pavement as they strode toward the glass doors. The building loomed above them, a monolith of power and steel.
She was ready.
Until the first taste of the game met her at the door.
Gerald, the concierge, was already standing behind his desk. He wore a well-pressed uniform and a tense expression. He clearly knew who she was — and who she was coming for.
“Miss Morgan,” he said, voice polite but clipped. “Please take a seat in the waiting area. Someone will be with you shortly.”
Corey narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”
Gerald didn’t falter, but a hint of discomfort crept into his voice. “If you could take a seat, Miss Morgan. Your arrival was expected.”
“Expected by who?” Corey snapped.
“Your uncle,” Gerald replied. “He asked for you to take a seat in the waiting room.”
So, this was how he wanted to play it.
Corey took a step forward, fury already creeping into his posture. “You know who she is, right? She owns this building. This company. That man upstairs is borrowing a title that belongs to her.”
“I understand,” Gerald said carefully, measured. “But my instructions are to ask her to wait.”
Lucy tilted her head slightly, a wry smile playing at her lips. “He’s trying to assert dominance.”
Corey looked ready to lose it, but Lucy placed a hand on his arm.
