The letter sat on the kitchen table like a bomb, the envelope slightly torn at the edge where Rowan had ripped it open with shaking hands. She’d read it once, twice, a third time, but the words didn’t change. No matter how hard she wished, no matter how many spells whispered through her thoughts to undo it, the name stared back at her with unwavering finality.
Lucien Moreau.
The man who haunted her dreams. The man who had vanished without a trace after one reckless, unforgettable night. The man whose blood ran in Maisie’s veins.
He had bought her daughter’s school.
The letter was friendly enough, dressed in the usual corporate pleasantries. A generous new owner, committed to educational development, excited to invest in the future of the school. But Rowan knew better. She knew what Luc
