The peaceful Miami interlude was officially over. By the next morning, we were back at the Grey mansion. We walked through the front doors just as breakfast was concluding; the house was already emptying out, with everyone scattering to their respective duties.
As we crossed the grand foyer, our eyes landed on Lucy. She was heading toward the main staircase, a generous, unauthorized slice of cake clutched determinedly in her hand—clearly a post-breakfast indulgence. Seeing us, she froze mid-step. Her gaze locked onto her father, and in a flash of decision, she quickly handed the precious cake off to a nearby maid. Then, she sprinted straight into Luther's arms.
After giving her dad a massive, genuine hug and a whirlwind greeting, she turned her attention to me. She offered a quick, somew
