Novel & Cerita Lucien Lorraine Leaked

*** That evening, Lucian barged into his mother’s mansion without knocking, anger surging from him face. Claire was still dressed from her meeting, sipping brandy. She looked like she had won a war. “I warned you,” Lucian said. “You drag Isla’s name again and I’ll burn everything down,” Lucian roared. Claire raised her glass with a soft smirk. “I didn’t drag her, sweetie. I simply... whispered. The press dragged it. Why are you blaming me for that?” “You leaked an old charity fund detail. She was never involved in it.”

Jonathan’s smile faltered—just slightly. Lucien continued. “This includes shell accounts, burner communications, and financial ties that predate recent events.” Jonathan’s gaze hardened. “Careful, Lucien.” “No,” Lucien replied calmly. “You should be.” He placed a folder on the table. “You wanted transparency,” Lucien said. “You’re about to get it.” By afternoon, the media was circling. Leaks had surfaced. Carefully timed. Carefully curated. Jonathan was furious. “You promised discretion,” he snapped into his phone.

Marc Fournier didn’t die by accident. He found something: old ledgers, offshore accounts, evidence of embezzlement. Luc killed him before he could leak it. The sale is a cover-up. Use this. Sabotage the deal. — S Her fingers trembled as she folded the note again and tucked it deep into her purse. Now she knew why the staffer looked familiar. Stefan’s assistant. She couldn’t even catch a breath without Stefan watching her from the shadows. But this time… it wasn’t about him. If any of what he said was true, Luc wasn’t just a spoiled heir. He was dangerous. And Ryan — guarded as he was — had no idea what he was walking into.

Of Lucy’s quiet eyes the day she handed over Sloane as an infant. All of it. All leading here. To cuffs. To headlines already writing themselves. To a dead man who had won the final move by losing everything else. The SUV pulled away from the estate. Sirens fading behind them. The city lights blurred past. And somewhere in the blur, the video was still playing. On phones. On TVs. On billboards. Lucien’s voice, steady as ever: “This is my confession. And the woman responsible has always been under my roof.”

‎ ‎“Sir? At this hour?” ‎ ‎“In four hours.” ‎ ‎“And the topic?” ‎ ‎Lucien’s eyes moved to Ariana’s sleeping form. ‎ ‎“My heir.” ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morning. ‎ ‎News spread like wildfire. ‎ ‎The Laurent Group had called an emergency press conference. ‎ ‎Reporters filled the grand hall. ‎ ‎Cameras flashed. ‎ ‎Investors whispered nervously. ‎ ‎Lucien Laurent never made emotional announcements. ‎ ‎So why today? ‎