Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

The Duke of Orleans suddenly remembered something and hurriedly grabbed the steward, "Has Ravier been found?"

The steward was somewhat confused and quickly bowed, "I will send someone to inquire immediately."

The Duke of Orleans closed the door to the hall with the back of his hand and paced back and forth, cursing under his breath, "That fool Ravier, why didn't he prepare more!"

He suddenly stopped, realizing that no matter how Necker had eluded the poisoning, he most likely would no longer believe the lie of being "saved to go to England."

That is to say, the dealings between Necker and the banks were very likely to become known to the Royal Family.

He pulled over a chair and sat down tiredly, feeling agitated and at a loss—what to do next?

He had already lost control of public opinion and the High Court, and his infiltration into the army was abandoned due to a baffling assassination attempt. If he lost control over finances now, then the Orleans family's century-long challenge for the throne would certainly come to an end in his generation!

No, there must be a way. The Duke of Orleans wiped the sweat from the palm of his hand on his coat, What other powers can I still call upon...

Count Capefield, who was beside him, saw the atmosphere suddenly turn somber and couldn't help but ask cautiously, "So, are we still going to have lunch now?"

...

The Bastille.

In a cell on the third floor, Necker, who had changed into a white coat, cleanly shaved his beard, and was wearing a wig, stared wide-eyed at another "himself" lying on the ground, his heart filled with dread.

If the police had not taken him to the small building across from the Bastille for interrogation, the person vomiting filthy blood and turning into a corpse would have been him.

Yes, last night Fouché had placed a death-row inmate here to impersonate Necker, and thanks to Necker's previously unkempt hair and beard, it was difficult to see any difference at first glance.

Joseph had long known that the Bastille was as penetrable as a sieve. Jeanne, who had concocted the "Affair of the Necklace," had been able to escape from here, let alone such an important target as Necker. So, he ordered Fouché to create a fake target to draw fire, while the real Necker was kept in a civilian house by the roadside, which was surprisingly safe.

Necker suddenly thought of something and turned to Fouché in a hurry, "What about Susan and the children?!"

Susan was the name of his wife. To lure the assassin into a trap, these police had used his wife and children to cooperate with the imposter.

Fouché gestured toward the inner room, "They're fine. Their food was personally delivered by my people."

Necker breathed a sigh of relief, looking at the body on the ground, and suddenly said coldly, "This was just your ruse to plot against me, wasn't it?"

The door was pushed open, and Prosper walked in, tipping his hat to Fouché in greeting, "Chief, the one who brought the food was named Carla, a lieutenant."

"Did you catch him?"

"He's dead."

Fouché kicked the sofa in frustration, "Damn it! How did he die? Who killed him?!"

"He was poisoned," said Prosper, "He's still hanging on to life, but he can't speak anymore."

Fouché glanced towards Necker, his tone full of sarcasm, "Would you like to see how we poison an officer to plot against you?

"His Majesty the King has already pardoned you. Who do you think most wants you dead now?"

Necker's head drooped despondently, his last sliver of hope utterly extinguished.

Before long, Joseph also hurried to the Bastille upon hearing the news.

After listening to Fouché briefly describe the events since yesterday, he first asked, "Is the assassin still alive?"

"Sorry, Your Highness, he breathed his last two hours ago."

"So soon?" Joseph frowned, "Didn't you perform gastric lavage on him?"

"Er, what's gastric lavage?"

Joseph shook his head and sighed. It seemed that gastric lavage hadn't been invented in this era. If they could have performed it on the poison victim immediately, he might have survived the night, and perhaps they would have been able to extract information about the mastermind behind the scenes.

"How much did Necker confess?"

Fouche bowed his head, "He has been silent. He says he will only reveal more if we agree to exile him."

Joseph sneered, "Still trying to bargain? Once that person arrives, he will confess everything obediently."

"Alright, go attend to your duties, but keep a close watch on Mr. Necker."

"Yes, Your Highness."

After Fouche and the others left, Joseph then turned his gaze to Bernard-René Jourdan de Launay, the commander of the Bastille's garrison, who had a pained expression on his face as he stood by.

"Marquis of Launay, do you realize how important Necker is? Do you understand the impact his death would have caused?

"That, Your Highness, I am truly sorry. It was negligence on the part of my officers," Launay wiped the cold sweat from his brow, relieved that the Royal Family had been alerted so quickly and that Necker was not dead, otherwise, his position would have been difficult to keep.

Joseph gave him a cold look, "Negligence by your 'subordinates'?"

"Oh, no, no," Launay bowed repeatedly, "It was my negligence!"

Joseph nodded, "Hmm, I will report this truthfully to Her Majesty the Queen."

"Ah?" Launay immediately panicked, "Please don't do so, Your Highness! Give me another chance, please..."

Joseph stopped walking and looked at him, "From now on, change the guards at the gates of the Bastille, the cooks, the cleaners—everyone to my people. Your officers and soldiers are to stay at least a hundred steps away from Necker's cell."

"Good, good, I will follow your orders!"

"Furthermore, you have half a month to find the mastermind behind the murder plot against Necker."

"Yes, yes, I will definitely find that person!"

Joseph knew that the mastermind behind this was almost certainly someone from the Banking Guild, but there was no way Launay could find them.

Nevertheless, the Bastille had become a sore point in the hearts of the French people, frequently used to smear the Royal Family. He took this opportunity to gain leverage, which would make dealing with the Bastille much easier later on.

Night fell.

In the interrogation room on the second floor of the Bastille, Necker was gnashing his teeth, only repeating "I need a promise from the Royal Family," "Only exile is acceptable," and such.

Suddenly, the door to the interrogation room was pushed open, and a familiar face appeared before him.

Necker was taken aback, blurting out, "Carolina? What are you doing here?!"

Carolina, donned in a simple black coat, casually bowed to him and smiled warmly, "Good evening, Mr. Necker. How long has it been since we last met? Ah, since my exile two years ago, right?"

"You, why have you come?" Necker repeated mechanically.

Carolina nodded to Fouche and the others before taking his seat at the Chief Examiner's position, expertly flipping through the interrogation records and case files.

After a moment, he raised his head to look at Necker and smiled again, "The Crown Prince has sent me to be your Chief Examiner. Mr. Necker, my old friend, are you surprised?"

"Why you..."

"Heh, we've fought in the open and in the shadows for so many years, I am probably the person most familiar with those things you've done in this world." Carolina browsed the dossier, "Let's not waste time, let's start with this loan agreement you have with Belanger Bank."

"No, I need a promise for exile!"

"Hmm, let me guess, you probably signed two contracts for this loan of four million livres with Belanger Bank." Carolina completely ignored him, feeling a surge of vengeful pleasure as his mind swiftly pinpointed all suspicious details and deduced them with his years of experience in embezzlement, "Look here, at the government's interest expenditure, you may have balanced the accounts, but the direction of the funds here has left a trail..."

Necker listened to him drone on for over an hour, his expression shifting from anger to shock—Carolina's words matched the reality more and more until they were almost identical. And this was something only he and the directors of Belanger Bank knew!

"Hmm, it seems you're agreeing." Carolina nodded in satisfaction and asked the clerk, "Did you get all that?"

"Yes, Viscount Carolina."

"Very well. Tomorrow have the Royal Police make arrests and check the accounts according to this; I'm sure there will be discoveries to be made."

Necker's cold sweat immediately began to stream down his back...