Chapter 6 - The Paper Kingdom Collapses
The private terminal at Nice Côte d'Azur Airport was shrouded in pre-dawn mist when Julian Sterling’s Gulfstream touched down.
Within twenty minutes of clearing customs through Julian’s private diplomatic escort, Celeste, Julian, and Priya were inside a convoy of two black Mercedes-Maybachs speeding along the winding, cliffside roads of the Moyenne Corniche toward the glittering principality of Monaco.
The Mediterranean sea gleamed like beaten obsidian beneath a fading moon.
Celeste was on her laptop when the alert pinged. It was a direct message on her personal phone from an unknown European number.
She unlocked it.
It was Bennett.
*Celeste. Pick up your phone. We need to talk. Daphne is having a breakdown because of what you did at Hart House. You have completely humiliated me. Call me before I make decisions that will ruin you permanently.*
Celeste stared at the screen, a surge of adrenaline washing away every trace of jet lag. “The audacity of this man,” she whispered, turning the screen toward Julian. “Look at this.”
Julian glanced at the message, a cold, predatory gleam lighting up his silver eyes. “He’s losing control. In his mind, you are still the compliant, dutiful fiancé who will apologize if he raises his voice. Call him.”
Celeste dialed the number. She set it to speaker and placed it on the leather console between them.
The phone rang twice before Bennett picked up, his voice breathless, sharp, and laced with arrogant panic.
“Celeste! Finally! What the hell did you think you were doing at the altar? Walking in with Julian Sterling? Are you out of your mind?!”
Celeste leaned forward, her voice calm as a frozen lake. “Good morning, Bennett. How was your flight to Zurich?”
“Stop playing games!” Bennett snarled. Celeste could hear the faint sound of clinking glasses and a woman softly weeping in the background—Daphne. “Do you know what my mother told me? You let Julian freeze our credit lines! You paraded our private business in front of five hundred people! My phone has been ringing non-stop with journalists asking if I stole from the foundation!”
“Did you?” Celeste asked quietly. “Did you steal five million dollars, Bennett? Did you steal my grandmother’s sapphire necklace?”
A brief, suffocating silence hung on the line.
“That necklace was going to become Crane property the moment we said our vows anyway!” Bennett hissed, his voice cracking with venom. “I had to liquidate assets to protect my family! If you had just played your part, if you had just announced I was sick, I would have returned to New York next month, compensated you for the sapphire, and handled this like adults! But you had to turn it into a cheap reality show with Sterling!”
“Where are you, Bennett?” Celeste asked, ignoring his tantrum entirely.
“That’s none of your business!” Bennett barked. “Listen to me carefully, Celeste. You go to the press right now. You tell them you acted out of hurt and hysteria. You retract the fraud allegations against Daphne and me. If you don't, I will sell *The Heart of Valois* on the private market within two hours, and you will never see your family’s legacy again. Hart House will be a parking lot by next year!”
Julian Sterling reached over, tapped the mute button on the car console, and looked at Celeste. “Are you ready?”
Celeste nodded, her eyes ablaze with cold fire.
Julian unmuted the line. “Bennett.”
A sharp intake of breath came through the speaker. “Sterling? You... you’re with her?”
“I am with her,” Julian said, his baritone voice vibrating with absolute authority. “And within the last ninety seconds, while you were screaming at your former bride, the financial police of the Principality of Monaco, acting on an emergency Red Notice issued by Interpol for international grand larceny, have surrounded the perimeter of the Hôtel de Paris.”
“What?!” Bennett’s voice pitched into an incredulous shriek. In the background, Daphne began to sob louder: *“Bennett, who is outside the door? Bennett, there are police in the lobby!”*
“You thought the Belle Époque Auction House was a safe haven, Bennett,” Julian said, his lips curling into a ruthless smirk as the Maybach crested the hill, revealing the glittering lights of Monte Carlo below. “You forgot that I am the majority shareholder of the bank that finances Belle Époque’s escrow vaults. You brought Celeste’s sapphire straight into my vault, you pathetic idiot.”
“Julian, wait—wait!” Bennett stammered, all his arrogant bravado evaporating into thin, suffocating terror. “Let’s make a deal! We can split the proceeds! I’ll give the necklace back—I’ll leave Daphne, I’ll return to New York, we can fix the Crane stock—”
“Bennett,” Celeste interrupted, her voice clear, steady, and utterly devoid of mercy. “You told me this morning that this wasn't how you wanted me to find out.”
She looked through the tinted windshield as their car pulled onto the grand plaza of the Casino de Monte-Carlo, sirens already flashing blue and red against the marble façade of the Hôtel de Paris.
“Well,” Celeste whispered into the phone, “this isn't how you wanted to go to prison either. Goodbye, Bennett.”
She ended the call.
May you like
Julian looked at her, his silver eyes shining with fierce triumph. “Priya, stay in the car with the legal files. Celeste... let’s go collect your family’s crown.”
***
