Page 113 of The Last Morgan

Barnaby gently took it from her hands, flipping it between his fingers like a magician with a card. “Encrypted. Not military, not standard tech. This is... specialized. Custom made.”

“Can you open it?” Lucy asked.

“I’ll try,” Barnaby murmured, already losing himself in it.

Lucy barely heard him. Her gaze had fallen back to the box. There was one last compartment at the bottom. She pulled it open with shaking fingers, revealing a folded piece of aged paper. Yellowed. Sealed with wax. Her father’s seal.

A letter.

She stared at it for a long moment, as if afraid it might vanish.

No one spoke.

She backed away slowly, her movements almost robotic, and crossed to the armchair by the fireplace. There, under the dim light of the chandelier, she sat down.

And for the first time in what felt like years, Lucy Morgan allowed herself to cry.

Then, with trembling hands, she broke the seal.

Lucy sat quietly in the armchair by the fireplace, the letter trembling in her hand. The others had backed away, giving her space, though every eye in the room was fixed on her. Even Barnaby, who was normally fidgeting or mumbling tech jargon under his breath, stood still. Watching.

She swallowed hard, the seal on the letter still intact. Her fingers brushed over the wax impression—the old Morgan crest, slightly smudged but unmistakable.

With a slow, shaky breath, she cracked the seal and unfolded the yellow paper.

The air around her seemed too thin as she began to read.

Dear Lucy,

If you’re reading this, then I have not—we have not—done our job properly.

I wanted to be there with you, to help guide you, to watch you grow and explore who you really are.

The truth is, we don’t exactly know what you are. We only know we suppressed it, with what we were given, if it isn’t obvious by now...I am truly sorry to say it to you like this, but we are not your biological parents.

Inside the box is a digital device. It holds everything—the memories, the answers, the truth you deserve.

I love you.

I can only imagine how hard that must be to read.

My brother, your uncle—he doesn’t know. He’s never known that you weren’t truly ours. But the wealth, the legacy, the entire Morgan name… it was always meant for you.

I was a biological researcher before I became your father. Your mother and I loved it. Traveling the world. Collecting specimens. Learning.

Until we found a rare and strange one. Something different. Something we’d never encountered.

Our research led us to a hidden village. Deep in Alaska, of all places. Remote and hard to reach. It took us weeks to gain their trust—weeks before they finally let us in.

They looked like everyday people, Lucy. Spoke softly. Moved with grace. But they were so advanced. They could do things we could only ever imagine in our wildest dreams. We took samples of their blood, with their blessing. We were giddy with discovery. But we were also reckless with keeping it a secret.

The military, the private contractors that funded our research facility—moved in.

They took the village.

When we found out, we went back. But we were too late.

Everyone was dead. Slaughtered.