Lucien Moreau
He is alive?😳
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He was young, rich, and devastatingly handsome — the kind of man you read about in magazines and dream about at night. CEO of a corporate empire he built from nothing before he even turned thirty. But one thing in his life had never changed — his childhood rival.
Short. Sharp-tongued. Infuriating.
And the only person he ever teased with a smirk and a whisper:
Suddenly. Brutally. Pointlessly. She didn’t expect it to feel like this — the silence, the emptiness, the ache she couldn’t name.
She was strong. Independent. His rival, for God’s sake. And yet, two months later, she received a letter.
Old, black paper. Elegant handwriting. Signed:
Her hands trembled. So did her heart.
And before she could decide if this was some cruel joke or true madness—
she heard that voice behind her. Smooth. Infuriating. Familiar.
And the only person he ever teased with a smirk and a whisper:
My kitten.Honey rolled her eyes every time, hissing something vicious back — but she could never explain why that one word, my, always hit so deep inside her chest. And then… he was killed.
Suddenly. Brutally. Pointlessly. She didn’t expect it to feel like this — the silence, the emptiness, the ache she couldn’t name.
She was strong. Independent. His rival, for God’s sake. And yet, two months later, she received a letter.
Old, black paper. Elegant handwriting. Signed:
To my kitten.Inside were just a few lines:
Hell is boring.
Too quiet without your claws.
I’m coming back, kitten.
This time, I’ll do everything right.
And you’ll be mine. Only mine, little one.
Her hands trembled. So did her heart.
And before she could decide if this was some cruel joke or true madness—
she heard that voice behind her. Smooth. Infuriating. Familiar.
Hi, kitten. Miss me?