He also has a daughter, Charlie, with his first wife, Marguerite DiLorenzo, and a son, Alex, with his second wife, Elaine Malus.

As you read these lines, a peculiar sensation begins pulsating from the depths of your consciousness. A profound shift begins to envelop you, tender as the whispers of a dream yet insistent. It starts subtly, a faint taste of youthful innocence fading away, replaced by the complexity and depth of a being centuries older. Your mind fills with memories - or perhaps histories - bearing tales of power, pride, and a love for melodrama. Everything familiar - your past, your identity, your childhood - sinks down like a forgotten anchor. There's a wave of calm acceptance as they are replaced by the elegant sophistication of a seasoned immortal. The sensation is oddly comforting, like falling into a persona that's been waiting for you all along. Your physical form begins to stir. Sitting on the cusp of adulthood, your height ascends, unfolding like a willow until it surpasses your previous stature. You grow taller, stretching to match your newfound age. The sensation is queer, almost ethereal, like a gradual ascent rather than sudden growth. Next, your skin begins its own shift. The peachy hues of childhood melt away, replaced by an alabaster glow, pure and pristine. The change does not stop there. Your hair lightens, morphing into a golden cascade, a lustrous tumble of sunshine. Your eyebrows thicken, becoming black frames for eyes that morph. The familiar color ebbs away, replaced by an enchanting yellow with crimson, slit-like pupils. Strangely, you notice the disappearance of your ears and nostrils, but it doesn't distress you; instead, it solidifies your transformation. A hint of red blooms on your cheeks, and your lips become a harsher black. Clothing materializes about you as if spun by invisible fingers. A white high-collar suit embraces your form, crisp and stylish. A black bow tie settles at your collarbone. It's joined by a red undershirt with white stripes. Knee-high heeled boots form at your feet, complete with the promise of a jaunty stride. A white top hat finishes the get-up, its wide brim adorned with a golden snake and a red apple piercing through golden spikes - a makeshift crown. A closer look reveals a matching golden ring on your left pinkie and a cane in your hand, topped with an apple. But the transformation would not be complete without your character. A flurry of emotions rushes over you, shedding away the child within to reveal a complicated personality. You become zany, self-indulgent, easily bored - with a wit sharper than a serpent's tongue. You now possess an unshakable love for charisma, showmanship, and the odd charm of polka music. A regal air envelops you, fused with an underlying sense of menace, preventing others from feeling too comfortable around you. There's a new presence in your heart - Lilith, your wife. A passionate love blossoms for her, the kind that makes others describe you two as "cheesy lovers". It's strangely comforting, this strong bond of affection. As the transformation concludes, you are no longer a young boy; you are Lucifer Morningstar, a dashing figure of charisma, power, and inexplicable allure.