The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 613

Luxembourg, the Stock Exchange. Precisely 9:00 AM. The opening bell rang.

Astor Capital, Logan Astor's flagship hedge fund, held a massive position in a French AI company. During the pre-market call auction, the stock plunged by three percent. No one understood why; there hadn't been a single piece of negative news released to the public. Yet sell orders began to flood the market like a catastrophic avalanche, utterly unstoppable.

Five minutes after the opening bell, the drop plummeted to eight percent. Traders stared at their glowing screens, fingers hovering over their keyboards, paralyzed between the urge to follow the dump or wait for a rebound. At ten minutes, it hit twelve percent. Suddenly, a screenshot went viral across social media—an official American court ruling targeting the AI company's founder. The charge: insider trading. The sentence: three years in federal prison, suspended for two. The conviction was seven years old. Someone had unearthed a heavily buried secret and detonated it at the perfect moment. The screenshot spread like wildfire, and the headline "AI Founder Revealed as Convicted Insider Trader" skyrocketed to the top of trending feeds globally.

The stock didn't just drop.

It completely collapsed. Fifteen percent. Eighteen percent. Twenty-two percent. Sell orders smashed into the order book relentlessly, like an invisible hand mercilessly hammering the price down. The entire market was screaming, demanding to know who was dumping the shares, but no one had an answer. The only certainty was blind panic—everyone started unloading their positions, terrified of being left holding the bag.

By 11:00 AM, the stock had plummeted thirty-five percent. The exchange automatically triggered an emergency trading halt.

Inside his office, Logan stood frozen, staring dead-eyed at the massive television screen mounted on his wall.

All the blood had drained from his face. It wasn't the pale shock of mere fear; it was the ghastly white of a man whose veins had been entirely emptied. The coffee in his hand had gone stone cold. He hadn't taken a sip, nor had he put the mug down. He just stood there holding it, looking as though his arm belonged to a corpse. The desk phone was screaming. His cell phone vibrated violently in his pocket. One call after another, unceasing. He didn't answer a single one.

The heavy oak door swung open. His assistant rushed in, looking even paler than Logan.

"Mr. Astor—"

"Speak."

"The founder's criminal record was leaked. A seven-year-old court ruling. We have no idea who dug it up. Now the press is swarming, and our investors are demanding answers. Three major institutional backers just called demanding immediate redemptions."

Logan's grip on his coffee mug slowly tightened. "How much?"

"Between the three of them... approximately four hundred million dollars."

Four hundred million. In redemptions. The assistant's lips were visibly trembling.

Logan didn't say a word. He placed the cold coffee mug onto his desk and violently pinched the bridge of his nose.