It’s what’s missing.
The light in her, the warmth, the spark, it’s gone. Not extinguished, just… dimmed. Like a candle fighting a draft. She looks smaller, yet heavier somehow. As if the weight she carries is finally visible on the outside.
She’s still stunning.
But she doesn’t look like herself.
And the realization that I might have something to do with that hits harder than anything Whitaker could have said.
Then I see it.
Hisjacket on her body.
Graham’s tuxedo jacket is draped around her, soft against the blue of her dress, so close in tone it almost looks intentional.
Possessiveness flares so sharply that it nearly knocks me over.
I don’t want him touching her.
I don’t want him near her.
I don’t want him to be the one she leans on when something breaks.
And the worst part?
I know I put him there.
I step toward her.
“Lucy,” I say, voice careful. “Are you...”
“I’m fine,” she cuts in. “As fine as anyone can be when their mother is in the ICU.”
The words slice with surgical precision.
“I know you’re not happy with me.”
Her eyes hold mine, flat and tired and too honest.
“You left me at a table full of strangers,” she says quietly. “So you could dance with other women.”
There’s no accusation in her voice.
Just fact and it guts me. Because it is true. I let pride and my father win tonight.
“I will make it up to you,” I say, because I don’t know how else to answer something that feels so deeply true. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
She goes to tell me there won't be another time, but she stops short when I step aside, hoping I made the right choice. That this will bring her closer to me and not push her away.
“Lucy, this is Dr. Teller.”
I feel the impact ripple through her before she even processes the name.
“Dr. Teller?” she breathes.
“You must be Lucy. I’ve heard quite a bit about your mother. I’d like to review her file and ask you a few questions, if that’s all right.” What he doesn't say is that I promised millions to his cause to get him here tonight says.
“Yes,” Lucy whispers. “Of course.”
