Page 5 of The Last Morgan

Finally, the time came for her lessons with Mary. These were nothing like the survival drills or combat routines she’d been mastering. Mary taught her languages, history, social finesse, finance, business — and most importantly, identity.

How to walk into any room and belong.

How to be anyone but herself.

Luckily, Lucy was already a quick study. The nannies her parents had once hired — each from different corners of the world — had unknowingly prepared her for this.

Mary’s sessions became her favorite, not just for knowledge, but for the escape.

Pretending to be someone else, even for an hour, made the weight of her past slip away.

By day, she lost herself in learning.

By night, the screams always returned.

No amount of training could silence them.

Carter checked in when he could — his visits brief but grounding. He chased every lead, chased ghosts. But eventually, he had to do the unthinkable. He marked the case unsolved.

Thirteen years passed. Thirteen years of silence and survival. Of knives, disguises, and languages. Of becoming something new.

One afternoon, Carter arrived with a different look in his eyes.

“Lucy, sit with me,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve got something for you.”

From a worn leather bag, he pulled out a folder, and a stack of sound recordings.

Her heart pounded.

“This is everything from your family’s case,” Carter said. “I took it from evidence lockup. I know it’s not a normal birthday gift, but—”

She cut him off with a hug.

“Happy birthday, Lucy,” he said quietly.

She pulled back. “These aren’t happy tears,” she said. “They’re from knowing I’m finally going to find the bastards who did this — and knowing that I will finally make them pay.”

Carter looked away, sticking his fingers in his ears like a child. He was a captain now — officially, he couldn’t support revenge.

But they both knew what this meant.

Then came the bigger reveal.

“You’re the heiress to a trillion-dollar corporation,” he said. “Now that you’re twenty-one, it’s all yours including your old home.”

He paused.

“Your aunt and uncle have been ‘managing it’ for you,” he added, flipping through the folder. “Now, it’s time you took it back.”

Lucy didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch.

Carter wasted no time. He summoned the rest of the Oxleys into the main room.

“This is the file,” he said, dropping it on the table. “Let’s see if anything’s been missed.”

Until now, Lucy had always been on the sidelines. Watching.

Not today.

Today, she was the reason they were all here.

What looked like an ordinary living room transformed in seconds. The wall shifted into a tactical board. Windows dimmed to one-way mirrors. Screens lit up, playing raw footage of suspects. Audio flickered to life — whispers, threats, fragments.

Everyone moved with purpose — photos pinned, timelines marked, names scrutinised.

Lucy joined them.

They combed through every angle. But whoever had killed the Morgans had done it well. Still… no plan is perfect.

And where there are cracks, there are answers.

To find them, she’d have to go back — not just physically, but fully. Into the life she’d been forced to leave behind.

This wasn’t about grief anymore.

This was about finding the truth..