LUCIEN'S POV
I wore my suit like an auction I had already won.
Tailored dark as charcoal, narrow lapels, the faintest glow when the light slid across my shoulder. The wheelchair's carbon rims caught the same light. It was clean and unforgiving.
I watched my reflection adjust a cuff, pause, adjust again. The movements looked practiced; they were not. I still missed the step where a man stands to shake the stiffness from his legs or when he adjusts the hem of his trousers.
A soft knock came on the door, so soft it was obvious who was behind it. It opened before I could answer.
"My dear, may I...?" She stopped and just stood inside the threshold, her hands folded over the bodice of a pale dress that made her look younger than she felt. That was Marissa, my father's wife, my s
