Rebirth Of The European Billionaire

Death Defying Wedding Invitations

The Presidential Suite at Plaza Athénée was so quiet that the rhythmic ticking of the gold-plated table clock could be heard. On the black marble table, an object exuding a strange opulence rested proudly. It was a physical invitation card, but unlike most invitations, its surface was made of a thin plate of pure 24 carat gold, engraved using laser technology.

On the gold plate, the names were engraved in elegant calligraphy. 'Julian Bourbon & Chloe Vance.' Below, the place and time were written. 'Palace of Versailles, Hall of Mirrors. Galerie des Glaces.'

Arthur took the gold card with two fingers, weighed it briefly, then threw it back on the table with a disdainful look.

"Hastening a wedding at the Palace of Versailles to save your reputation? What a cliché move," Arthur muttered.

The stock market is a monster driven by perception. The loss of a billion euros and the impact of Pendelton Capital's short-sell positions had brought the Bourbon Group to the brink of collapse. In their desperation, Charles Bourbon and their business allies, the Vance family, resorted to their only remaining trump card, the illusion of stability. By holding their wedding at the Palace of Versailles—the ultimate symbol of the opulence and power of the French aristocracy—they wanted to send a strong signal to the stock market that their alliance remained solid, unshaken by any financial storm.

The gold-plated invitation delivered directly to Arthur's desk wasn't just a notice. It was an open provocation. A message from Julian that seemed to scream. "You may have won some money from the lottery, Arthur. But you will never have the social status, class, or recognition of our aristocrats. In a place like Versailles, you're still just a lowly foreigner."

Arthur leaned back in his leather chair and slowly closed his eyes. At that moment, the air around him seemed to freeze. The System's cold, authoritative mechanical voice echoed through his consciousness, carrying a pressure far more intense than usual.

[Ding! Detected High Level Provocation from Primary Target (Julian Bourbon).]

[Emergency Mission Triggered!]

[Mission: Destroy the Wedding of the Century. Drag the pride of the Bourbon and Vance families to the brink of collapse in front of their entire business alliance.]

[Time Limit: 36 Hours (Exactly when the wedding ceremony takes place).]

[Mission Rewards: 1. Full Access to the Swiss Shadow Banking Network. Swiss Shadow Banking Network - Unlimited Liquidity Fund Authority. 2. Ownership Rights and Absolute Loyalty of the Sovereign Guard (Sovereign Guard - Global Private Paramilitary Elite Force).]

Arthur opened his eyes. A cold, terrifying glint flashed in them. Access to Swiss shadow banking meant he no longer had to disburse money through standard protocols traceable by international financial intelligence. And the Sovereign Guard? That was a legitimate armed force that could only be hired by heads of state or oil barons.

"Challenging death..." Arthur smiled faintly, stroking the gold invitation plate on his table. "Julian, if you are so anxious to show off the remaining glories of your house of cards at Versailles, I will come as a spectator. And as the one who will reduce it to dust."

Meanwhile, at a luxury boutique hotel near the Versailles area, the atmosphere in the bridal dressing room was far from happy.

Chloe stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror, wearing a replacement wedding dress imported directly from Milan. Although the white silk gown was studded with real pearls and worth tens of thousands of euros, Chloe's face looked haggard. The dark circles under her eyes couldn't be completely hidden by the heavy makeup from Paris's best makeup artist.

"Chloe! Stand up straight! Why is your face so gloomy?!" scolded Sofia, her mother, who entered the room in a striking purple velvet dress. "Today is your day! You will be married at the Palace of Versailles! Not a single woman from our circle would have ever dreamed of this. This is proof that the Bourbons are still in control!"

"But Mom..." Chloe's voice trembled. "Is this really going to work? I saw the news this morning. Bourbon Group's stock is still under pressure. Julian couldn't even sleep last night because he kept getting calls from creditors. I... I'm scared."

"Afraid of what?!" Sofia snorted, adjusting the diamond necklace around her daughter's neck. "The Bourbons have hundreds of years of history in this country. They have connections with ministers and high-ranking officials. Arthur is just a lucky flea who got his hands on some quick cash. Julian has already sent him a golden invitation. Julian will show the whole world that in the face of true aristocratic power, Arthur's cash is worthless! Once this wedding is over, market sentiment will turn around, and we'll be back on top."

Chloe stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her mother's words sounded logical, but for some reason, every time she remembered the look in Arthur's eyes in the lobby of the Plaza Athénée the other day, a chill ran down her spine. The Arthur she was now was too calm. And the calm of a man with unlimited financial power was the most terrifying thing in the world.

In the next room, Julian was adjusting his white tuxedo tie. His face, bruised from his father's slap, had been covered with medical makeup. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with a combination of extreme exhaustion and deep-seated hatred.

Charles Bourbon entered the room, fixing his son with a cold stare. "All the important guests are here. The ministers, the heads of the central banks, and representatives from the stock exchanges are already seated in the Hall of Mirrors. This wedding must go off without a hitch, Julian. This is our last bastion of defense. If the slightest mistake goes wrong, the Bourbon Group will be finished before sundown."

"I know, Father," Julian replied, his voice hoarse but full of emphasis. "I've made sure of everything. Arthur will come too. I want him to see for himself how a true gentleman rules the highest stage in France. He may destroy our stock on the stock exchange, but here in Versailles, he's nothing more than an uninvited spectator."

Julian clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. For Julian, rushing this wedding was no longer just a business strategy, but a gamble of absolute pride. He had to prove to Chloe, to his father, and to the entire world that he remained above Arthur.

Time continued to roll mercilessly. Thirty-six hours passed in the blink of an eye.

The afternoon sun was beginning to set, casting a majestic golden glow over the rooftops of the Palace of Versailles. The palace's golden gates, usually opened only for official state visits, were now flung open to a parade of luxury cars—Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, and Maybachs—carrying the guests of Europe's wealthiest VIPs.

The legendary Hall of Mirrors, the Galerie des Glaces, where the world's greatest historical records were signed, has been transformed into a magnificent wedding altar. Hundreds of crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, reflecting light off the giant mirrored walls, projecting absolute opulence. Classical music from a renowned symphony orchestra echoes softly, creating a thick atmosphere of aristocracy.

Julian stood at the altar with the high priest, awaiting the arrival of his bride. A haughty smile returned to his face as he saw the row of ministers and tycoons nodding respectfully to him.

However, just as the great doors of the Hall of Mirrors were about to close to begin Chloe's arrival procession, a small commotion occurred at the main entrance of the palace.

The sound of steady, heavy footsteps echoed across the marble floor, cutting through the orchestral music that had suddenly slowed down as the players were distracted by the distorted atmosphere in the room.

All the invited guests, including Julian and Charles Bourbon, simultaneously turned towards the entrance.

There, stood a man.

Arthur stepped into the Hall of Mirrors of the Palace of Versailles. He had not come in casual clothes, nor had he come in his usual party attire. Tonight, he wore a long, jet-black formal robe with dark gold embroidery at the collar—a style commonly worn by the shadowy rulers of ancient Europe. Behind him stood his personal assistant, carrying a small, metallic black suitcase.

The aura of dominance Arthur exuded was so thick, so oppressive, that the air in the vast hall suddenly felt thin. Every step Arthur took seemed to release a psychological shockwave that forced the ministers and billionaires in the room to hold their breath involuntarily.

Standing at the altar, Julian felt his heart pounding. The hatred and insecurity he had buried suddenly resurfaced at the sight of Arthur.

Arthur stopped in his tracks right in the middle of the hall, staring at Julian at the altar with a faint, serene smile—the smile of an executioner ready to bring down his axe.

The System's virtual screen before Arthur's eyes lit up in a glorious fiery red, starting the countdown to mission execution.

[Ding! Host has entered the mission area: Palace of Versailles.]

[The mission 'Wedding Crash of the Century' officially begins in 3... 2... 1...]