INICIAR SESIÓNArielle was halfway through getting dressed when Lucien knocked on her bedroom door.“I’m not ready!” she called.“I didn’t ask if you were ready.”“Then why are you disturbing me?”“Because you’ve been in there for forty minutes, and I need to know if I should cancel our reservation.”She opened the door, glaring at him. “You can cancel it and eat alone.”Lucien grinned. “There she is. The woman I’m marrying.”Her expression softened before she could stop it. “You’re really serious about getting married, aren’t you?”“Very.” He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”Arielle looked at him for a moment, then straightened his collar.“I haven’t. But I refuse to spend my marriage arguing with your mother, your uncle, or any other relative who thinks they own our lives.”“Then we’ll establish boundaries.”“And if they cross them?”“We’ll establish them again. More firmly.”She laughed. “You’re learning.”“I’m a very intelligent man.”“Don’t r
Lucien read his father’s letter a second time.Your mother knows why your father and I disagreed, and Henry has spent years making sure neither of you asks the right questions.He looked at Arielle. “I’m calling my mother.”“Lucien, it’s barely eight in the morning.”“Good. She’ll have no excuse to tell me she’s busy.”Mary arrived at the estate an hour later. One look at the letter in her son’s hand told her what the conversation would be about.“You’ve found Victor’s letter,” she said quietly.“You knew he left it?”“I knew he wanted to tell you something. I didn’t know he had written it down.”Lucien placed the letter on the table.“Then tell us what you know about Beaumont Laurent.”Mary sat down, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.“Victor discovered that Margaret was using the family holding company to move money through accounts that weren’t supposed to exist. Beaumont had uncovered part of the same arrangement. He intended to expose it.”Arielle’s face tightened. “And Sentin
“Don’t tell me you’re about to spend another night chasing dead people and missing documents.”Arielle’s voice stopped Lucien halfway to the car.He turned. “Someone just threatened us.”“And we’ll deal with it tomorrow. I’m tired, Lucien. Tired of Beaumont’s death, Sentinel, Margaret, and every new name that drags us into another investigation.” She swallowed, fighting the frustration rising in her chest. “I came into this relationship because I fell in love with you. Sometimes I wonder if you remember that we’re supposed to be building a life together.”Lucien stared at her.Then he put his keys back into his pocket.“You’re right.”She blinked. “That’s it?”“What else should I say? You’re asking me to be your man, not your investigator.” He stepped closer. “And I’ve been so busy trying to protect you that I’ve forgotten you might need something else from me.”Arielle looked away. “I need to feel like there’s still an us outside all this madness.”Lucien gently caught her hand. “The
“Margaret Moreau is dead?”Lucien repeated Bennett’s words, his grip tightening around the envelope.Bennett nodded. “That’s what the man told me. He said she died overseas several years ago. But I never saw an obituary or any official confirmation.”“Did you recognize the man?” Arielle asked.“No. He knew where I lived, where I’d worked, and that I’d kept copies of the Sentinel documents. That wasn’t a casual visit.”Lucien stood. “You should have told Martin this before we met.”“I wanted to know whether you were genuinely investigating or simply trying to protect your family.” Bennett looked directly at him. “Your father was a good man, Mr. Moreau. But good men can build companies that other people use for terrible things.”Lucien didn’t argue.He gave Bennett Martin’s number and asked him to report any further contact before leaving the café with Arielle.Inside the car, Arielle opened the envelope again.“The email proves Margaret commissioned the assignment, but we still don’t k
Lucien stared at the service order on the table, his brows drawing together.“Mother, your name is Mary Moreau. Why does this document say Margaret Moreau?”Mary leaned forward to examine it again. “Because it isn’t my name. I’ve never used Margaret.”Arielle exchanged a look with Lucien. The anonymous message had been right about one thing: Margaret hadn’t commissioned the assignment. But who was she?“Was there another Margaret in the family?” Arielle asked.Mary hesitated. “Victor’s older sister. Margaret Moreau. She managed several of the family’s investments before Victor took over the company. They had a falling-out years ago, and she left the business.”“Where is she now?” Lucien asked.“I don’t know. Victor stopped speaking about her after their dispute.”Lucien picked up his phone and called Martin.“Find Margaret Moreau. And I want Charles Bennett’s location before the end of the day. No one from my family’s office is to be involved.”He ended the call and turned to Arielle.
Henry Moreau entered the sitting room at nine that evening, removed his gloves, and looked from Lucien to Arielle as though he had expected them to be waiting.Mary stood beside the fireplace, her face pale.“You wanted to see me?” Henry asked.Lucien placed a copy of the destruction request on the table. “Explain this.”Henry glanced at the document. “Where did you get it?”“That isn’t an answer.”Henry’s eyes shifted to Mary. “You shouldn’t have involved yourself in this.”“You told me the report contained confidential information,” Mary replied. “You never told me it concerned a dead man.”“I told you what you needed to know at the time.”Lucien stepped forward. “You used my father’s name to authorize a Sentinel assignment after he died. Then you persuaded my mother to approve the destruction of the operational report. What exactly were you trying to hide?”Henry’s expression hardened.“You’re making serious accusations based on incomplete records.”“We have evidence that the autho
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
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
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
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







