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Sarah nods knowingly. “I felt the same way. But maybe this is a fresh start for us all.”

I evaluate my next words carefully before I speak them. “I didn’t know Lucifer long, but long enough that I saw his crueler side. It must have been hard when Michail told you he was going to go see him.”

“It was. Agony. I barely slept until he got back to New York. We didn’t talk about it.” Her words are barely a whisper. “I would never wish anyone dead. But when I saw on the news that Lucifer had passed, I was so relieved.”

She glances at me. “Michail’s told you, hasn’t he? What happened?”

“Some, yes.”

“Eighteen, raised by very wealthy and very controlling parents. The fact that I managed to talk them into a semester in Paris was a miracle. They had already planned for me to marry the son of one of my father’s business partners. When I met Lucifer…” Her voice trails off as she looks back to the clouds. “He was older, arrogant, dangerous. I thought it was love, but it was the novelty, feeling rebellious. When I told him I was pregnant, he told me it wasn’t his problem. My parents disowned me.”

“Michail shared some details.”

Her eyes brighten. “He did?” At my nod, she swallows hard. “I’m glad. It’s a hard chapter of our lives, one he doesn’t share with hardly anyone.”

Michail walks in with a large black bag in hand. He moves over to a small alcove and brings out an easel.

“What is this?”

Michail unzips the bag. “This, Mom, is for you.”

He pulls out the first painting and sets it on the easel. Sarah gasps.

“Michail…”

The painting is stunning, a bright blue sea with white-capped waves and a gull flying with its wings stretched out. In the distance, a mountain looms, the edges hazy and dreamy.

“How did you— I haven’t seen these in years.”

He looks at me. “With Alessandra’s help.”

Touched by his inclusion, I glance away before I give in to my own urge to shed a tear or two. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sarah stand and slowly approach the easel. She runs a finger along the edge of the canvas.

“I never thought I would see this again.”

Michail carefully sets it down and puts the next one on the easel. One after another: New York City at night, an old man fishing off the end of a dock, a field of flowers and springtime, and the Eiffel Tower, standing proud against the backdrop of Paris.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

Michail wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Worry passes over Sarah’s face. She glances in my direction before smiling up at her son.

“This is cause for a toast. Would you mind grabbing us some champagne? And I have some sparkling cider on the top shelf of the fridge.”

Michail has barely left the room when Sarah turns to me. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks pale as her fingers curl around the arm of her chair in a death grip.

“Sarah?”

“What did he have to do?”

I freeze. “What?”

“What price did he have to pay? There’s no way that Lucifer would have ever let those paintings out of his grasp without some sort of condition or…”

Her eyes widen, then drop down to my stomach. My body goes cold.