Page 108 of The Last Morgan

She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Did you manage to secure it?”

Corey nodded. “Of course. It hasn’t been touched. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice softer now. She looked around the grand entryway of the estate, the familiar scent of home surrounding her. “I’m going to take a bath. Two days in that place and I smell like antiseptic and stress.”

She started up the stairs, her hand trailing lightly along the polished wood of the banister. She paused halfway up and turned to look back down at Corey and Barnaby.

“We’re at the finish line,” she said. “Just hold it together for a bit longer.”

Corey gave her a short nod. Barnaby saluted her with his bubble tea.

As she disappeared upstairs, the two men looked at each other. There was a weight in the air that hadn’t quite lifted, even now.

“You think we’re ready?” Barnaby asked.

“No,” Corey replied honestly. “But since when has that ever stopped us?”

Chapter 26

Upstairs, the bathroom filled with steam. Lucy lowered herself into the bath, muscles aching from days of tension. She closed her eyes, letting her body soak and her mind wander. The warmth seeped into her bones, and for a brief moment, everything was still.

But even here, her thoughts were racing. The box. The truth. The necklace. The weight of everything her parents had hidden… everything she had become.

She didn’t know what they were about to uncover

The morning sun lit up the estate like any other day, but inside, the air was heavy and charged. This wasn’t just another morning. This was the morning.

Lucy walked into the kitchen with slow, deliberate steps. Corey and Damien were already seated at the table, waiting for her like sentinels.

“Box or Jimmy?” Corey asked. Lucy paused, pouring herself a cup of coffee, the aroma grounding her.

“Let me eat,” she said calmly. “Then we talk to Jimmy.”

Breakfast couldn’t have gone any slower. Each bite was a delay tactic, her thoughts racing beneath a composed exterior. The men around her waited in a respectful silence, understanding that this wasn’t their moment. This was Lucy’s story. The chapter only she could write.

But something felt different today—like a weight was about to be lifted. Or maybe it was the realization that this weight was permanent, just shifting from unknown to understood.

She took her last sip of coffee and stood. “Fuck it,” she said, pushing her chair back. “Let’s go.”

Corey nodded at Damien, and the three of them made their way down to the basement—a room that had once been wine storage and now looked more like a covert detention center. The place had been retrofitted with soundproof walls, reinforced doors, and separated holding spaces.

“Where did you put the girl?” Lucy asked as they approached the corridor.

“She’s on the other side,” Corey said. “We kept them gagged and separated. She hasn’t seen Jimmy since we brought them in.”

“Good,” Lucy replied, her voice flat.

“Do you want to speak to her first?” Damien asked.

Lucy nodded.

Corey unlatched the lock and opened the heavy metal door. The red-headed receptionist sat on a small chair in the far corner, bound at the wrists and ankles, her mouth gagged but her eyes wide with anticipation and fear.

Lucy entered the room slowly, her presence deliberate and intimidating. She removed the gag with one swift pull.

“I don’t want to end your life here today,” Lucy said, her voice dangerously soft. “Not like this. But if you lie to me—or even hesitate—I will.”

The woman gulped. “You don’t understand. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone—”