Page 114 of The Last Morgan

Except for one.

You.

You were hidden, placed beside chests full of gold and ancient artifacts.

We took you. We took everything.

We ran. Changed our names. Disappeared. Became The Morgans.

They thought we ran with samples, but we had already destroyed those. What they didn't know was the real reason we ran and that was because we had you.

You, Lucy, are the last of your kind.

We don’t know exactly what you are. But we know this: your mind, your potential, your power—it had to be suppressed.

You were doing things. Things no child should be able to do.

When you’re ready, use the digital key. It will unlock your full potential, its VR adapted.

It will have everything you need and more to start your journey, into figuring out who you are.

Just know this:

We love you, Lucy.

You are our daughter.

I’m so sorry.

—Dad.

The letter slipped from her fingers and drifted to the floor like a dead leaf.

No one dared speak.

Lucy sat frozen in her chair, eyes wide and unblinking. She didn’t sob. She didn’t move. The tears simply poured, streaking her face in thick silence.

Then, suddenly, she gasped—sharp and full of panic.

“What the fuck am I?” she screamed, her voice cracked, raw, and terrifying.

She launched the letter across the room. It fluttered through the air before hitting Corey in the chest. He caught it, stunned.

“I—” he started, but Lucy wasn’t listening.

Her hands clutched her temples, as if she could squeeze the truth out of her skull.

“I thought this was about money,” she whispered. “Revenge. My family. But this—this is some next-level... alien experiment shit!”

Barnaby took a cautious step forward. “Lucy...”

But before anyone could say more, her breath started to shorten. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her limbs shook.

Corey rushed to her side. “Hey, hey, look at me. Just breathe. Just sit and calm—”

She collapsed into his arms.

“Shit!” he shouted, holding her up. “Barnaby, get some water—now!”