Novel-novel oleh B.A

The cameras didn’t stop.Even after Lucien finished his prepared statement. Even after they walked off the makeshift stage. Flashes kept going off like lightning and voices shouting questions that blurred together into noise.Arielle’s cheeks ached from holding the smile. Her hand was still locked in Lucien’s. His grip was firm. Almost protective. She wanted to pull away but her inner voice echoed in her head. Never break contact. You’re in love. Remember that.The elevator doors finally closed. The sudden silence made her ears ring.Lucien dropped her hand like it burned him.“You did well.” He said as he scrolled through his phone.Arielle flexed her fingers. They were stiff from being held so long. “Thanks.” She managed to say.“The car’s waiting downstairs. We need to get you moved into the house today.”Her stomach lurched. “Today? I haven’t even packed.”“I’ll have movers handle it.” He glanced up. His expression was unreadable. “You just need to grab essentials. Anything you ca

Chapter 4The briefcase smelled like old leather and dust.Arielle sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, the contents spread out around her like pieces of a puzzle she’d been trying to solve for ten years.Documents. Bank statements. Emails printed on paper that had yellowed with time. And a small digital recorder that looked ancient but still worked when she pressed play.Her father’s voice filled the room.“This is Thomas Beaumont. Today is March 15th. If you’re hearing this, something’s happened to me.”Arielle’s throat closed up. She pressed pause. Took a breath. Then pressed play again.“I need to document what’s been happening. What Richard and Henry Moreau have been doing. They’ve been siphoning money from the company for months. Falsifying records. Creating shell accounts. And when I confronted them about it, they turned it around on me.”There was a long pause. Papers rustling.“They’re going to frame me for their crimes. I know that now. They’ve already planted evidence in

Chapter 3Arielle stared at her phone until the screen went dark.I know who you are.She hadn’t been Arielle Laurent when her father was alive. She’d been Arielle Beaumont. Her father’s daughter. The girl who’d lived in a house with a backyard and a tree swing and parents who smiled at each other over morning coffee.That was before.Before the scandal. Before the accusations. Before her father’s name became synonymous with fraud and betrayal. Before he died in a car accident that the police ruled accidental but her mother never believed was anything but murder.After that, her mother had gone back to using her maiden name. Laurent. And Arielle had followed. A clean break. A fresh start. A way to survive.For three years, no one at Moreau Holdings had connected her to the man whose name had been scrubbed from every company record. The man who’d supposedly embezzled millions before disappearing into disgrace.The man who’d actually been innocent.And now someone knows.Arielle’s hands

Chapter 2Arielle’s fingers curled into fists at her sides.“An opportunity,” she repeated slowly. “That’s what you’re calling this.”“What would you call it?” Lucien asked.“Insane. Desperate. Take your pick.”Something flickered in his expression. Almost like amusement. But it was gone before she could be sure.“You’re right. It is desperate.” He moved back toward his desk, putting distance between them. “But desperation doesn’t make it any less practical.”“For you maybe.”“For both of us.” He turned to face her again. “I’ve looked into your file, Miss Laurent. You’ve been here three years. Solid performance reviews. No disciplinary issues. You keep your head down and do your work. You’re also severely underpaid for someone with your qualifications.”Her jaw tightened. “That’s none of your business.”“It became my business the moment I decided you were the solution to my problem.” He crossed his arms. “You’re living in a one-bedroom apartment in a neighborhood that’s generous to ca

Chapter 1The coffee machine in the break room sputtered its last drops into a chipped ceramic mug. Arielle Laurent wrapped her fingers around the warmth and took a sip. Six forty-five in the morning. The eighteenth floor was still empty.Exactly how she preferred it.She carried her coffee back to her cubicle, heels clicking softly against polished marble. Her workspace sat in the corner. Deliberately chosen. Far from the main corridor. Far from questions.A small potted succulent. A stack of press releases. Nothing personal.Her computer screen flickered to life. The Moreau Holdings logo appeared. Sleek silver letters that probably cost more than her monthly rent.She opened her email and started sorting through morning briefings. Financial reports. Partnership announcements. The usual corporate language that said everything and nothing.Then she saw it.Subject: URGENT: Crisis Management Protocol ActivatedHer hand froze on the mouse. In three years at Moreau Holdings, urgent meeti