Lucian
I sat across from Carter in his office, my thumb tapping against the dark mahogany armrest of my chair. The blinds were tilted halfway, letting golden slivers of morning light pierce through, illuminating the glass decanter on his sideboard and the thick stacks of paperwork that lined his antique bookshelf.
Carter was flipping through a file, the silent rhythm of pages turning only heightening my tension. He wore a black three-piece suit, his tie knotted tightly at the neck, his grey temples and wireframe glasses giving him an air of unassailable wisdom. But today, even he looked uneasy.
“So,” he said finally, closing the file with a deliberate thud. “You’re proceeding with the custody appeal.”
I shifted in my seat, rolling my shoulders back, my tailored black suit stretching s
