Page 88 of The Last Morgan
Barnaby flashed a thumbs-up without looking up from his screen.
Lucy took a slow breath and faced Max again.
"You get one chance," she said quietly.
"Don't make me regret it."
Max nodded, tears shining in his eyes.
The next morning, Lucy tapped the screen of her phone, her thumb hovering for a second before dialing Davina’s number. It only rang once before the girl’s bright voice answered.
“Davina, handle business as normal today. I want updates only if something detrimental happens,” Lucy instructed firmly. “Be my eyes and ears while I’m out. If anything, big drops, text me or get Deza to step in. I’m letting her know she’ll be first point of contact if I’m seriously unavailable.”
“Got it, Miss Morgan,” Davina said crisply. “I’ll keep everything steady.”
Lucy hung up, sliding her phone into her pocket. She adjusted the tight black jacket she wore and turned toward the breakfast room. Time to face her two families.
The smell of fresh coffee, buttered croissants, and eggs filled the massive open-plan kitchen and dining area. It should have felt warm, welcoming even, but the tension curled around her like smoke.
Her uncle sat stiffly at the far end of the table, eyes narrowing the moment he saw her. His mouth twisted downward in permanent disapproval. His wife sat beside him, tight-lippedand silent, while their daughter, Sarah, poked absentmindedly at a piece of toast.
The other family — her real family, the ones who had bled and fought for her — were scattered comfortably around the table. Corey, Byron, Damien, even Barnaby with his laptop balanced precariously on one knee.
Lucy took her seat without a word, feeling her uncle’s scowl digging into her back.
It was Sarah who broke the awkward silence.
Her sharp eyes flicked over to Barnaby, she slid smoothly to sit closer to him, pretending casual interest.
Barnaby didn’t notice until she leaned in, eyes gleaming. “What are you working on?”
“Code,” he muttered without looking up, fingers dancing across the keyboard. “You wouldn’t get it.”
Sarah tilted her head, her blonde curls catching the morning light. “Oh, so you're writing a recursive blockchain decryption algorithm to trace remote access nodes?” she said airily, as if commenting on the weather.
Barnaby froze.
His hands hovered awkwardly above his keyboard as he stared at her, mouth slightly agape. Sarah smirked, tossed her hair, and skipped back to her original seat, leaving Barnaby blinking after her like a stunned rabbit.
Holy crap, he thought. She’s smart.
He shoveled a massive spoonful of cereal into his mouth and immediately ducked behind his laptop again, face burning red.
Lucy caught the entire thing from the corner of her eye, smirking into her coffee.
The brittle silence shattered when her uncle spoke up, voice dripping with thinly veiled disdain.
“What’s happening, Lucy?” he demanded. “How long is this circus going to last?”
Lucy sipped her coffee slowly, letting the heat settle her rising annoyance.
“Why?” she said coolly. “I already told you it won't always be like this.”
He slammed his fork down, rattling the dishes. “Yeah, well, I don’t feel comfortable with my wife and daughter walking around with all these men in the house.”
Lucy set her cup down with a click. The entire table watched her, holding their breath.
“Ahh, I see,” she said slowly. “Would it be better if you moved into a hotel for a while?”
