LOGINArielle was beginning to understand that planning a wedding involved far more decisions than she had imagined.She sat at the dining table, staring at three different floral arrangements on her laptop while Lucien stood behind her, reading something on his phone.“Which one do you prefer?” she asked.Lucien glanced at the screen.“The flowers?”“Yes, Lucien. The flowers.”He leaned closer, studying the pictures with the seriousness of a man examining a business contract.“I like the first one.”Arielle turned around.“You haven’t even looked at the others.”“I have.”“You looked at them for approximately two seconds.”“I made my decision quickly.”She narrowed her eyes. “And what exactly do you like about the first one?”“The fact that you like it.”Arielle stared at him before shaking her head.“You’re impossible.”Lucien smiled and placed a kiss on the top of her head.“I’m also very easy to please.”“That’s because you’re not the one making all these decisions.”“Then tell me what
Arielle had been staring at the wedding planner’s proposals for almost an hour, and she was beginning to suspect that planning a wedding was more exhausting than investigating a murder.She flipped through another page, frowned, and pushed the folder away.“What’s wrong with this one?” Lucien asked.She glanced at the photograph he was pointing at.“The flowers.”“What about them?”“They’re ugly.”Lucien examined the arrangement. It looked perfectly acceptable to him, but he had learned that offering an opinion on wedding decorations without understanding the consequences was dangerous.“They look like flowers to me.”Arielle slowly turned toward him.“Are you telling me you don’t see anything wrong with them?”“I’m telling you that I’m a man who knows when to stay out of trouble.”She burst into laughter.Lucien smiled, pleased with himself, before reaching for the folder.“How many more decisions do we have to make?”“Don’t ask me. We haven’t even settled on the wedding cake.”“Choc
Margaret Moreau arrived at the Moreau estate at ten the following morning, dressed in a cream suit and carrying a leather handbag.She looked nothing like a woman who had spent years hiding from a scandal. She walked into the sitting room with her chin raised, barely acknowledging Lucien before turning to Arielle.“So you’re Beaumont Laurent’s daughter.”Arielle held her gaze. “And you’re the woman who decided my father was a problem that needed to be handled.”Margaret’s lips tightened. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”“Then this should be an easy conversation.”Lucien gestured toward the chair opposite him. “Sit down, Aunt Margaret. The authorities have already received copies of Sentinel’s report. We want to hear your explanation before they question you formally.”For the first time, Margaret looked uncertain.“Henry told me you had the documents.”“Henry has finally decided to tell the truth,” Lucien replied. “You should try it.”Margaret sat.She initially claimed S
Arielle 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
She stood there. Watching him go. Her heart doing things it shouldn’t.The hallway felt colder after he disappeared around the corner.Arielle let herself into her room and closed the door softly behind her. The quiet pressed in immediately. Too loud. Too heavy.She leaned back against the door and
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 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 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







