Anastasia sat behind her father's old desk, surrounded by stacks of documents she hadn't seen in years. The once-polished wood was now littered with faded folders, loose pages, and financial reports with numbers that screamed betrayal.
It hadn't taken long—just a few minutes—for her to see it.
Laurent Corp was bleeding.
The accounts were riddled with inconsistencies. Money moved through shadowy sub-accounts, transactions signed off with initials she didn't recognize, loopholes big enough to swallow the company whole. Maxime had been patient, quiet, and deliberate. He'd been gutting Laurent Corp from the inside for months—maybe years.
And Genevieve had done nothing.
Her mother sat slumped in a high-backed leather chair across the room, staring blankly at the wall. She looked like a ghost—hollow, fragile, lost.
"You didn't see any of this?" Anastasia asked quietly, not expecting an answer.
Genevieve didn't respond.
