Lucian
I arrived at the office earlier than usual, wanting time to clear out my old desk and move into my father’s office. It didn’t take long—I never kept much. I was efficient, always expecting change.
The top-floor office was just as pristine and powerful as I remembered. The skyline stretched out through floor-to-ceiling glass. It almost looked like there was no glass—just air and height. I walked across the room slowly, letting it sink in.
This space, this view... it was mine now.
My eyes landed on the only thing that truly mattered in the room: my mother’s portrait. It hung beautifully on the far wall. Martha had tried, more than once, to convince my father to take it down. He never did. And now I understood why.
I was still admiring it when the door opened.
Lacy.
She walked i
