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A POOR GIRL WARNS A MILLIONAIRE: "DON'T GO THERE, A TRAGEDY WILL HAPPEN..." Evening was falling over Paris, shrouding the city in a soft, shimmering mist under the streetlights. The rain, fine and persistent, drew random patterns on the windows of the cafes and the cobblestone sidewalks. In front of a majestic building on Rue Saint-Honoré, Julien Laurent stepped out of his black sedan with the confidence of a man accustomed to being the master of his destiny. Dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal gray suit, he held a black leather briefcase in one hand and an umbrella in the other. That evening, a crucial meeting awaited him. Julien, the head of a flourishing company specializing in new technologies, had worked hard to conclude a strategic partnership with an influential foreign group. If he succeeded, it would place him even higher in the inner circle of Parisian economic elites. Yet, as he strode purposefully toward the marble entrance of the building, something caught his eye.