The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 638

"Understood. Thank you, Commissioner Adler."

After hanging up, Evelyn didn't stop. She scrolled to the next number—a senior advisor to the French Ministry of the Interior, an old friend of Charles de Rothschild whom she had met twice. She dialed and spoke in crisp, direct French.

"The Sea of Stars. Are you familiar with it?"

"I know a bit. Why?"

"Several of their lower-tier bosses are in France. Financial fraud, corporate espionage, human trafficking—pick your poison. I will send you the evidence. You can launch the sweep within a week."

The line was silent for a few seconds. "Are you certain the evidence is watertight?"

"Enough. I've been investigating for months."

"Alright. I'll make the arrangements."

After ending the call, Evelyn dialed a third number—a contact at the German Federal Criminal Police Office she had met at a previous medical conference. Then a fourth—Switzerland, where she directly contacted a prosecutor in Geneva. Finally, a fifth—Italy.

None of the calls took long. Three to five minutes at most, with the shortest barely clocking two. She spoke rapidly, cutting straight to the core of the issue like a surgeon excising a tumor. She listed names, offenses, and the location of the evidence. No wasted words, no negotiations.

Her driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror several times. She had never seen Evelyn like this—not as a brilliant doctor, not as a gentle fiancé, but as a ruthless commander sitting in a war room, dispensing execution orders one by one.

When the final call ended, Evelyn rested her phone on her lap and leaned back, closing her eyes. Outside the window, Lake Geneva sparkled under the afternoon sun, the distant mountain peaks still dusted with snow. She didn't look at the view. Her mind was still running through the kill list—three in France, two in Germany, two in Italy, four in the UK, and at least five back home. The operatives in smaller jurisdictions had been handed over to Interpol.

Logan had spent decades weaving this web. She was going to rip it out by the roots in a matter of days.

The car pulled up to the estate.

Number 12, Résidence du Lac, right on the shores of Lake Geneva. A gray exterior, stark white window frames, and two perfectly manicured pine trees flanking the entrance. Evelyn stepped out of the car, standing by the door as she took a deep breath. Her legs felt a bit weak. She steadied herself against the car door for a moment until her balance returned.