the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart-Chapter 767: This Man is a Role Model for the Younger Generation in Southeast Asia
Stone Leclair’s words had scarcely fallen when the room plunged into dead silence, even the presiding judge paused momentarily.
The courtroom remained silent for nearly three seconds, followed by an eruption of noise and heated discussion. How could the public digest the fact that the head of the esteemed Leclair family in South Coast was a man with a double personality?
The man standing in the defendant’s box was strikingly handsome, as if crafted by divine hands. He carried with him the refined elegance inherited from a century-old aristocracy, paired with unparalleled intelligence and ruthless tactics—qualities that made him the role model and beacon for the younger generation of South Coast.
"Order in the courtroom." The presiding judge struck the gavel.
Ignatius Leclair remained in place, his deep almond-shaped eyes fixed coldly and mercilessly on Stone Leclair, the curve of his lips hard and unyielding.
Brock Gray glanced back at the calm and composed Mr. Leclair before protesting, "Objection. Whether my client suffers from a dual personality cannot serve as grounds for determining his motive for murder."
"Objection overruled."
The trial was locked in a stalemate, as the defendant’s potential mental instability made the case increasingly convoluted and mysterious.
Brock Gray, realizing he had wasted too much time, hastened his pace and asked sharply, "Mr. Leclair, with only surveillance footage showing someone entering the hospital room and no concrete evidence, how can you assert that the deceased wasn’t a victim of sudden death, but rather of premeditated murder?"
The question left Stone Leclair speechless. Whether it was a father accusing his son or a stepson murdering his stepmother, both scenarios violated familial norms and constituted a scandal of the century.
"Because he is an utter madman! He hates me, hates Beatrice Carter—it’s him." Stone Leclair’s voice cracked. At his advanced age, it was a feat that he had managed to endure the severity and gravity of the courtroom for this long.
Brock Gray let out a cold laugh before continuing, "Mr. Leclair, do you recall the car accident involving Ms. Carter on the eighth day of the lunar New Year?"
Stone Leclair’s gaze faltered.
"Your Honor, I request for my first witness to take the stand," Brock Gray said flatly.
The first witness was a weathered man in his thirties with a dark complexion. Stone Leclair didn’t recognize him, but as soon as Brock Gray began questioning him, Stone Leclair’s face went ghostly pale. Memories flooded back—during the incident where Beatrice Carter was kidnapped, trouble arose. The car accident had left Beatrice in a vegetative state, while one of the kidnappers died and the other escaped with serious injuries.
"Mr. Leclair’s assistant offered me a million dollars to kidnap Mrs. Leclair and throw her into the sea. My accomplice died on the spot, and I escaped from the hospital," the man in his thirties spat venomously at Stone Leclair, his eyes nearly shooting flames. "People like us usually keep these kinds of jobs buried deep within us, but when my partner was sent to the hospital with lighter injuries than mine, he was given an injection by a nurse and stopped breathing. I realized something was wrong. I escaped the hospital and began hiding in remote mountains, living in exile for four years."
"It was Stone Leclair who wanted to kill his own wife and then eliminate us to cover the tracks of his failed plan!"
"Objection. The car accident has no bearing on this case," Salvador Lawrence interjected as soon as the tides began to turn, attempting to defuse the situation.
"The car accident is directly tied to the motive for murder in this case—it is highly relevant," Brock Gray countered vehemently.
"Objection overruled."
Stone Leclair broke out in cold sweat. The nearly sixty-year-old man no longer carried the gentle and affable demeanor seen on television; his entire presence was now shrouded in an unsettling darkness. Who could have foreseen that someone who had hidden in the remote wilderness for four years would be found—and how many damning secrets had the opposition held onto all these years?
