Read Online Coup D'etat (The Alpha Prince) Book 3 by C.T. Sloan - Free Book Online
Authors: C.T. Sloan
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terror.
“According to my Intelligence Minister, each of you privately own at least twenty-five million dollars in gold bullion inside Mondorra. Eight days ago, that very amount of gold bullion was exported out of Mondorra and sent to Geneva to be secretly converted into a cashiers check. Four days later, that check was presented to my lovely girlfriend as a bribe to break-off our relationship. Now, I do not care what any one person thinks of my private life. Your opinion is yours. However, directly interfering with the Prince’s relationship in hopes of steering my heart to another, is treachery,” the Prince proclaims with cold words that cut a dagger into the heart of every person at the table.
The Prince snaps his fingers. A well-dressed man walks up to the table with a leather portfolio in his hand. The man begins to drop a single piece of paper in front of each guest. As the guests look down at the paper, the Prince begins to explain, “As you know, this is Monsieur Claude Jean of the Justice Ministry. Right now, I have ordered him to hand each of you a piece of paper. On that piece of paper is your name. And on your name is my decree that you be expelled from the Principality of Mondorra at Midnight tonight.”
Audible gasps erupt from the table. One woman begins to cry. “My family has lived in Mondorra for over four hundred years!” one of the older gentleman cries out.
“Well, I hope you and your family have enjoyed your stay. All of you will lose your tax haven status in 58 minutes. But do not worry, you can seek citizenship in France, Spain, the UK, Germany, Italy or Belgium. I hear the tax rates on millionaires are anywhere from 80% to 90%. That’s a shame. Maybe you can bribe the tax collectors in your new homeland,” the Prince lectures. A wave of shock and hysteria permeates around the table. All of these millionaires and billionaires stare at that single piece of paper. Their hands shake. Their eyes water up. I swear any one of them could have a heart attack at any moment.
“As Prince, I am the only one who can rescind an expulsion order. And I will be happily to rip up that piece of paper in your hands,” Prince Julian explains as every guest looks up at him like a scared child. “I want to know who financed the bribe,” the Prince demand. The guests begin to look at each other. Some of them shift in their seats. Other guests seem genuinely clueless about the entire bribe itself. No matter what the disposition, no guest at the table wants to lose their coveted citizenship - and tax free status - at the stroke of midnight.
I notice that a group of the guests become increasingly tense. Some of them seem as though they are on the verge of attacking one another across the table. My heart begins to race. I am wondering if I am watching many co-conspirators or just one traitor. Prince Julian stalks around the table like a tiger ready to pounce on a selected prey. I just want to make sure that my royal lover is safe. He could have twenty enemies at the table and not even know it.
“Dammit! Mr. Robaire is the one responsible,” Mr. Beatrix yells while his wife breaks down into tears. A tall, intimidating older man looks at Mr. Beatrix with a face that is practically on fire. The Prince does not walk towards Mr. Robaire. Instead, he walks to his old friend Mr. Beatrix. The Prince looks down at the shaken old friend.
“What do you, Mr. Beatrix?” the Prince demands.
The shaken man’s wife grabs her husband by the arm and looks him in the eye. “You tell him! You tell him everything now!”
Mr. Beatrix looks up at the Prince with a heavy heart and sweat upon his brow. “I must confess, Your Highness, that Madame Beatrix and myself did not initially approve of your relationship with Miss Rousseau. I am not alone. Myself and several others - who are seated at this table - had expressed this concern. One week ago, Mr. Robaire offered a proposal of a bribe to
“According to my Intelligence Minister, each of you privately own at least twenty-five million dollars in gold bullion inside Mondorra. Eight days ago, that very amount of gold bullion was exported out of Mondorra and sent to Geneva to be secretly converted into a cashiers check. Four days later, that check was presented to my lovely girlfriend as a bribe to break-off our relationship. Now, I do not care what any one person thinks of my private life. Your opinion is yours. However, directly interfering with the Prince’s relationship in hopes of steering my heart to another, is treachery,” the Prince proclaims with cold words that cut a dagger into the heart of every person at the table.
The Prince snaps his fingers. A well-dressed man walks up to the table with a leather portfolio in his hand. The man begins to drop a single piece of paper in front of each guest. As the guests look down at the paper, the Prince begins to explain, “As you know, this is Monsieur Claude Jean of the Justice Ministry. Right now, I have ordered him to hand each of you a piece of paper. On that piece of paper is your name. And on your name is my decree that you be expelled from the Principality of Mondorra at Midnight tonight.”
Audible gasps erupt from the table. One woman begins to cry. “My family has lived in Mondorra for over four hundred years!” one of the older gentleman cries out.
“Well, I hope you and your family have enjoyed your stay. All of you will lose your tax haven status in 58 minutes. But do not worry, you can seek citizenship in France, Spain, the UK, Germany, Italy or Belgium. I hear the tax rates on millionaires are anywhere from 80% to 90%. That’s a shame. Maybe you can bribe the tax collectors in your new homeland,” the Prince lectures. A wave of shock and hysteria permeates around the table. All of these millionaires and billionaires stare at that single piece of paper. Their hands shake. Their eyes water up. I swear any one of them could have a heart attack at any moment.
“As Prince, I am the only one who can rescind an expulsion order. And I will be happily to rip up that piece of paper in your hands,” Prince Julian explains as every guest looks up at him like a scared child. “I want to know who financed the bribe,” the Prince demand. The guests begin to look at each other. Some of them shift in their seats. Other guests seem genuinely clueless about the entire bribe itself. No matter what the disposition, no guest at the table wants to lose their coveted citizenship - and tax free status - at the stroke of midnight.
I notice that a group of the guests become increasingly tense. Some of them seem as though they are on the verge of attacking one another across the table. My heart begins to race. I am wondering if I am watching many co-conspirators or just one traitor. Prince Julian stalks around the table like a tiger ready to pounce on a selected prey. I just want to make sure that my royal lover is safe. He could have twenty enemies at the table and not even know it.
“Dammit! Mr. Robaire is the one responsible,” Mr. Beatrix yells while his wife breaks down into tears. A tall, intimidating older man looks at Mr. Beatrix with a face that is practically on fire. The Prince does not walk towards Mr. Robaire. Instead, he walks to his old friend Mr. Beatrix. The Prince looks down at the shaken old friend.
“What do you, Mr. Beatrix?” the Prince demands.
The shaken man’s wife grabs her husband by the arm and looks him in the eye. “You tell him! You tell him everything now!”
Mr. Beatrix looks up at the Prince with a heavy heart and sweat upon his brow. “I must confess, Your Highness, that Madame Beatrix and myself did not initially approve of your relationship with Miss Rousseau. I am not alone. Myself and several others - who are seated at this table - had expressed this concern. One week ago, Mr. Robaire offered a proposal of a bribe to
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