LUCAS’S POV
The morning sun didn't bring warmth, instead it just turned the gray Manhattan fog into a blinding, white glare that sliced through the slatted blinds of the master suite.
I was up before the alarm, already fully dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit. As I pulled the silk tie tight against my collar, I watched Ava’s reflection in the glass. She was still asleep, her dark hair scattered across the charcoal pillows, her shoulder bare where the duvet had slipped.
For a fraction of a second, the image of her standing before the board’s lawyers yesterday flashed through my mind with the way she had used her knowledge of my grandfather’s mansion and his private habits to shield me. She had been flawless. She had been the perfect weapon against Margaret.
But a weapon was still a
