## Chapter 9: The Sovereign's Diagnosis
The silence that followed Kael's countdown was heavy, a vacuum of sound before the storm. Then, every screen in Belgravia—from the massive neon billboards in Oakhaven Square to the cracked smartphones in the hands of protestors—flickered and died.
A second later, Lulan appeared.
She wasn't the "Ice Queen" of Zurich or the "Shadow Director" of the hospital. She stood in the scorched server room, a streak of soot across her cheek, her eyes blazing with a terrifying, calm authority. Behind her, the blurred figures of her four children and the scarred silhouette of Silas Vane stood like a phalanx.
### The Address
"People of Belgravia," Lulan began, her voice steady and resonant, bypassing the frantic filters of the Royal Press Office. "Your Prince has spent the last hour telling you that I am a murderer. He has called for martial law to protect you from a 'ghost.' But a ghost is just a memory that refuses to be ignored."
She waved a hand, and Kael executed the split-screen command. On the left, Lulan spoke; on the right, the private security footage from Leonard's broadcast suite played. It showed the Prince laughing as he watched the hospital begin to smoke, his hand trembling as he moved funds out of the national pension reserve.
"Leonard isn't trying to save the King," Lulan continued. "He is trying to burn the evidence of his own insolvency. He has treated this Kingdom like a personal bank account, and when the vault went dry, he decided to burn the bank."
A collective gasp seemed to ripple through the city. The evidence was undeniable.
"I am Lulan Lascourine. Six years ago, I was cast out because I carried a truth the Crown couldn't handle. Today, I carry the cure. I have just saved the King's life—not because I love the man who exiled me, but because Belgravia is not a toy for a failing Prince to break."
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### The Ultimatum
Lulan stepped closer to the camera, her gaze piercing the lens.
"To the Royal Guard: Your King is stable, but he is under my care. If you follow Leonard's orders to storm this facility, you aren't protecting the Crown; you are assisting a thief. To the citizens: Look at your screens. Those are your savings being transferred to the Cayman Islands in real-time."
Kael scrolled a ticker across the bottom of every screen in the country, showing the live countdown of Leonard's draining accounts.
"I am giving Leonard sixty minutes to surrender," Lulan said, her voice dropping to a whisper that felt like a scream. "If he does not, I will release the encryption keys to every dark secret in the Royal Archives. I will not just dismantle a Prince; I will dissolve a Monarchy."
The feed cut to black.
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### The Choice in the Dark
Inside the server room, the adrenaline began to fade, replaced by a cold, tactical dread.
"He won't surrender," Silas said, checking the perimeter cameras. "Leonard is a cornered rat. Rats don't surrender; they bite."
"I'm counting on it," Lulan replied. She turned to Lucian. "Is the King's transport ready?"
"The medical VTOL (Vertical Take-Off and Landing) is on the roof," Lucian confirmed. "But the King is still weak. Moving him now is a risk of cardiac arrest."
"I'll take those odds over leaving him in a burning building," Lulan said.
Suddenly, the hospital's ground-floor sensors screamed. A massive explosion rocked the foundations.
"He's here," Elara said, her voice eerily flat as she watched her monitors. "He didn't wait for the hour. He's brought the Heavy Artillery. He's going to level the hospital with us inside."
### The Failsafe within the Failsafe
"Kael, get the children to the roof," Lulan commanded. "Silas, go with them. Prepare the VTOL."
"And you?" Silas asked, his hand gripping her arm. "Lulan, don't do this. Don't be the hero. You're a surgeon."
"A surgeon has to stay to close the wound, Silas," she said, her eyes softening for the briefest of moments as she looked at him. "Take our children. If I'm not up there in five minutes, you fly."
As Silas led the children toward the express lift, Lulan didn't head for the roof. She headed down.
She reached the main lobby just as the front glass shattered inward. Framed by the fire and the rain stood Leonard, flanked by a dozen Black-Ops mercenaries—men who weren't Belgravian, men who fought for gold, not glory.
"You really should have stayed a ghost, Lulan," Leonard hissed, raising a gold-plated sidearm.
Lulan stood alone in the center of the debris, her arms crossed. "You're late, Leonard. The broadcast has already reached the International Monetary Fund. Your assets are frozen. You're not a Prince anymore. You're just a man with a very expensive gun and no way to pay the men holding the others."
The mercenaries shifted, their eyes darting to their own tablets. The "Payment Confirmed" notifications they were waiting for hadn't arrived.
"Kill her!" Leonard screamed. "I'll double the pay!"
"With what?" Lulan asked calmly. "The in your accounts?"
One by one, the mercenaries lowered their weapons. They looked at each other, then at the frantic, sweating man in the tailored suit. Without a word, the lead merc turned and walked out into the rain. The others followed.
### The Final Cut
Leonard was left standing alone, his hand shaking so violently the gun clattered to the floor.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he whispered. "You were just a girl. You were nothing."
"That was your first mistake, Leonard," Lulan said, walking toward him. She didn't stop until she was inches away. She reached out and straightened his collar, a gesture of mocking motherliness. "You forgot that a girl with nothing is the most dangerous thing in the world. Because she has plenty of room to grow into a Queen."
She didn't kill him. She didn't need to. The sound of police sirens—the *real* police, loyal to the King and the law—was closing in.
"Enjoy the tower, Leonard," she whispered. "I hear the medical care in the dungeons is... substandard."
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Lulan turned and walked toward the elevators. She had a Kingdom to stabilize, a King to wake up, and a family to lead.