We boarded the jet with Luciana and got ready to take off. The Henderson brothers instructed her not to interfere with our honeymoon, but she does have to keep us safe. Ash ensured I was fastened in before sitting beside me, and the flight attendant came over, “Champagne?” She asked with a smile. I nod, “Yes, please,” I say as she pours us both a glass. She went to pour a glass for Luciana, but, “None for me,” Luciana told her, “I’m working.” “Of course, Miss Morningstar.” The attendant says as she walks away. My curiosity was peaked, “Luciana,” I say, gaining her attention, “your name is Luciana Morningstar?” I ask, and she rolls her eyes, “Yeah,” she tells me, “it is. My mom named me that before she died; from what I gather, Morningstar is my father’s last name, but he was long gone before she even knew she was pregnant.” “I’m so sorry.” I tell her, taking a sip of the bubbly drink, “I lost my mother before I turned fifteen; I can’t even imagine not ever knowing her.” “
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