Moon's Past °
1114 Words
Chapter Four: The Girl in the Mirror
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I didn’t say anything.
I couldn’t.
Because everything in my body was screaming. Not in fear — no, not that.
It was something else. Something I couldn’t name.
The kind of ache you feel in a dream when someone you lost stands in front of you again. But they’re not exactly how you remember.
Lucien wasn’t a boy anymore.
And I wasn’t the same girl who used to run barefoot up a haunted hill with her heart in her hands.
I was a woman now. I had learned to swallow grief like medicine. To stay silent when I wanted to scream. To smile when people left me.
And now he was standing here — more real than anything I had ever believed in — and I didn’t know whether to hit him or hug him.
So I just stood there. Frozen. While the shadows of his words twisted around my ribs.
“You’ll live in the penthouse across from mine,” he said again, calmly, like he was offering me a glass of water.
“I didn’t agree to this,” I whispered.
“You will.”
“I won’t.”
His gaze flicked to my mouth, then my eyes. “You already did the moment you stepped into this building. You came back to me, Catalina. Whether you knew it or not.”
A chill ran through me.
“I came for a job,” I snapped.
He stepped closer, his voice colder now. “Then you should’ve applied somewhere else. I don’t offer jobs. I offer protection.”
“I don’t need your protection.”
His expression turned sharp — wounded, almost.
“You think you’ve been safe these last four years?” he said softly. “You haven’t. You just haven’t known where to look.”
I folded my arms tightly, trying to hold myself together.
“What happened that night?” I asked. “I want the truth. All of it.”
He didn’t blink. “You’ll get it. Bit by bit. But only if you stay.”
“And if I don’t?”
His jaw clenched.
“Then I’ll make you stay.”
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I walked into the penthouse like someone stepping into their own hallucination.
Everything smelled like eucalyptus and money. The view overlooked the city — clean, wide roads, golden lights, and glass towers that sparkled like stars had dropped into the earth.
I hadn’t seen anything this beautiful in my life. Not even in magazines.
I placed my single duffel bag on the couch and turned slowly in the silence.
How did he do this?
How did the bleeding, piano-playing boy from the broken manor become this?
I opened the wardrobe — already filled with clothes in my size. I touched the silk. The cashmere. The tiny label that said For C.R.
My initials.
He’d been expecting me.
Preparing for me.
I should’ve been scared. But all I felt was dizzy.
On the bedside table was a black envelope.
Inside: a key, a phone, and a note written in perfect cursive.
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Wear the black dress tonight.
I’ll be waiting on the rooftop.
— L
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Chapter Five: Rooftop Roses
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I wore the black dress.
Because of course I did.
It clung to my body like it had been made from moonlight and sin. The heels were taller than anything I’d ever worn, but they made me feel powerful. Expensive. Untouchable.
When I stepped onto the rooftop, my breath caught.
A thousand candles flickered along the railings. Strings of warm lights glowed above. A grand table waited in the center — set for two — with crystal glasses, roses, and wine that probably cost more than my entire tuition.
And at the far end, by the glass edge, Lucien stood with his back to me.
Looking at the stars.
He turned when he heard my steps.
And I swear, for a second, the world tilted.
“You wore it,” he said.
“You planned this.”
“I always plan.”
“Is this what you do with all your employees?” I asked, folding my arms.
He smirked. “There are no other employees.”
I frowned.
“You think I built all this just to run a company?” he asked. “No. This—” He waved at the city below. “This is camouflage.”
“For what?”
“For what I really do. For the people I protect. For the lies I bury. For the things I’ve done.”
“And what have you done, Lucien?” I asked quietly.
He looked at me for a long time.
Then stepped closer.
“I’ve killed people.”
I didn’t flinch.
He noticed.
“I’ve broken every rule you’ve ever been taught to obey. I’ve crossed lines you’d never even draw. I’ve lied to you. Disappeared. I let them think I was dead. I let you think it.”
My voice was almost a whisper. “Why?”
He reached out — not to touch me, but to show me his hands. Still stained, in a way.
Maybe they’d always be.
“Because if you knew what I was... you'd never come back.”
Silence wrapped around us. Warm, choking silence.
And then I said the one thing I hadn’t said in four years.
“I missed you.”
His breath hitched. And that was when I saw it — beneath all the sharp edges, beneath the flawless suit and bloodstained history — he was still Lucien.
Still the boy who looked at the stars like they whispered secrets just to him.
“I missed you too,” he said.
And he stepped forward.
And kissed me.
Like the world was ending.
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Chapter Six: The Blackbird Letter
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I found it the next morning — tucked into the drawer of my bedside table.
A letter sealed with a wax emblem: a blackbird.
It wasn’t from Lucien.
I opened it carefully, my hands trembling slightly.
The handwriting was harsh. Male.
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He’s not what he seems.
And neither are you.
Ask him what happened to the last girl who wore that black dress.
Ask him what happened on the night he disappeared.
Ask him why he built this empire in your name.
You're not just his obsession, Catalina.
You're the reason they’re coming.
— S
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My knees gave out.
I sat on the edge of the bed, the letter shaking in my grip.
What. The. Hell.
What did that mean?
I’d thought Lucien was the danger.
But now I wasn’t sure who the monster was.
Or if it was me.
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