Following a stroke, a well-known Hollywood celebrity who was formerly regarded as one of the most attractive men leads a reclusive existence. His children had been at odds for a long time during his health scare.
This attractive French actor,88, who was once praised as one of the most beautiful men in the world, leads a very different life now that he is no longer in the limelight of Hollywood.
After sadly suffering a stroke in 2019, the “Flic Story” artist, who is aware of how “handsome” he is, lives a reclusive life at his house. This happened a few weeks following his honorary Palme d’Or acceptance in Cannes, France.
His mansion is situated behind a magnificent stone wall that stretches 2.4 miles (2.3 km) and is part of the expansive estate known as La Brûlerie. It is situated in the Loreit department of central France, close to the Douchy-Montcorbon commune, at a distance of 86.99 miles (140 km) southeast of Paris.
Sources claim that this is not just the actor’s house but also the location of his dream burial, next to a chapel on the grounds of a cemetery he constructed. More than thirty of his cherished hounds are laid to rest in this cemetery.
Despite having France as his home base, sources indicate that the reclusive divides his time between his Douchy home, his apartment in Geneva, and his workstation in Paris.
The French sensation has been handling a tense family matter in addition to choosing his final resting place. His three children are at conflict with one another.
Based on their father and his possessions, his two sons and daughter have engaged in public arguments, leveled allegations, and pursued legal actions. The public nature of their arguments has brought the actor’s kids a lot of media attention.
So much so that Christophe Ayela, their father’s attorney, has made an effort to mediate a ceasefire between them. “It must end, and everyone must become calm. That’s enough for now, reprimanded Christopher.
The fact that the “Purple Noon” actor, whose kids attest to this, is aware of their argument and has made it quite evident that he has a favorite child adds even more nuance to the family conflict.
He had earlier said, “I have a daughter who is the love of my life, maybe a little too much in comparison to the others.”
In 2008, he claimed, “I have said I love you to no other woman so often.” Observant viewers speculate that the father may see his sons as competitors, which could explain their tense relationship. This theory is supported by the father’s own remarks and other observations.
The actress’s kid has made public her intense affection for her father, much like her devoted father. She recently sent a heartfelt homage to him on Instagram, providing followers with an update on the actor’s health.
She wrote a touching note in French and included it with a photo of her father. That caption says, “Friday morning I took a picture of my dad,” in English. for myself. A remembrance of our times. Breakfast with him fills me with unending gratitude. A singularly lovely moment.
She continued by praising his looks, describing him as “handsome” and emphasizing his “vivid” and “fighting” attitude. “My personal eternal,” she penned.
“I showed the image to him. As his audience who is interested in him, I asked him if I may share it with you. Thus, it is here with his consent. “Don’t worry,” he responds to your concerns. #love,” the actor’s daughter said.
It’s none other than Alain Delon, the legendary French casanova about whom admirers have been worrying and who has been leading a secluded life. Many of Alain’s admirers responded to his daughter Anouchka Delon’s Instagram photo by leaving comments on the platform.
As always, he is stunning and gorgeous. Please remain by his side; he needs you more than anybody. I know you adore your father and are very protective of him, a fan exclaimed. Actor Gilles Marini, who is also French, said, “Remain near.brimming with affection. Nothing more is important.
Even though Anouchka and her brothers, Anthony and Alain-Fabien Delon, have not always agreed on everything, they both agree that their father’s financial and medical needs must be met.
According to a French news source earlier this month, Alain’s children banded together in March to demand that their father be put under a “reinforced curatorship.” Alain was previously placed under judicial protection for “medical monitoring” prior to this action.
According to the article, their request was granted as of April 4. This implies that a “curator” will be designated to supervise Alain’s finances and act, effectively, on his behalf with regard to matters pertaining to his possessions and, occasionally, his healthcare needs.
Nobody has confirmed the identity of this curator as of yet. It’s unclear if it will be Hiromi Rollin—who the news source called Alain’s “lady in waiting”—or one of his children.
What will happen to Alain’s business, Alain Delon International Diffusion SA, of which he is the President and Anouchka is the Vice President, is another concern. As the curatorship request has been approved, Alain will no longer be able to make decisions in that role.
Nevertheless, Alain is more concerned with the here and now than the minutiae. He revealed in a 2021 interview that he wanted to make one last picture, which he believes has the potential to be his best to date.
The “Borsalino” actor said, “In my life what I loved most was being Alain Delon, the actor Alain Delon,” to end the conversation.
“Observe Purple Noon and Rocco [And His Brothers]!Every woman was enamored with me. Alain described himself as an attractive performer in a prior statement. “From when I was 18 till when I was 50.”
Alain is said to have discovered his attraction to women in the 1950s when on a trip to Saint-Germain-des-Prés with a buddy. “I became aware that everybody was staring at me. Women started to inspire me. To them, I owe everything. Alain said, “They were the ones who motivated me to look better than everyone else.”
Alain made it his mission to “look better than anyone else,” going so far as to claim the title of “most seductive man in cinema” at the age of 25, and he was even compared to Brigitte Bardot in terms of appearance. One of the biggest “It” girls in the history of film, the French star is widely recognized.
Her famous roles in many silver-screen movies have earned her recognition and admiration. Playboy, a popular platform for showcasing stunning celebrities, had elevated the French blonde beauty to the top of the list of the 20th century’s most attractive female stars.
She is even regarded by certain media sources as the greatest “It” girl of all time. In addition to her attractive appearance, Brigitte is well-known for her pouffy lips. She ranked fourth on Playboy’s list of the sexiest female stars.
Her seductive confidence and alluring personality also earned her the title of most watched star in her native nation. In addition to her accomplishments as an actor and general entertainment, Brigitte has developed a strong reputation as an enthusiastic supporter of animal rights.
Regarding her private life, the well-liked celebrity, better known by her stage as BB, is a mother of one child and has been wed to Bernard d’Ormale for 31 years. Media sources claim that the pair married in secret in August 1992, inviting just a small number of friends to share in their big day.
Since then, the couple has been happily married. When Brigitte and Bernard got married for the first time, acquaintances of the “Contempt” singer informed a news outlet that the abrupt and covert marriage had made her happier than she had been in a long time.
It’s interesting to note that Brigitte’s friends weren’t sure she would get married again after her first spouse died. Nevertheless, the couple lived together in Brigitte’s opulent ten-bedroom mansion in Saint-Tropez after being married in a charming tiny wooden chapel in Norway.
Bernard has supported Brigitte ever since they first met, particularly during her health problems. Brigitte’s knight in shining armor promptly reassured the extremely alarmed audience that she was okay when French newspapers announced for the first time in 1992 that their adored celebrity had supposedly overdosed on sedatives while at home.
“Brigitte was overwhelmed with fatigue and took too much medication to go to sleep,” he clarified.After a few hours, she was fine and had not had her stomach pumped.”
Bernard’s claim that his wife was okay was further corroborated by a representative for the clinic where Brigitte was brought. Years after her sedative scare, Brigitte was confronted with yet another health issue.
Bernard attested to Brigitte’s breathing difficulties earlier this year. Fortunately, first responders came to her aid right away, gave her oxygen, and stayed with her to make sure everything was alright.
Bernard cited an intense heatwave that was sweeping through Europe at the time to support his explanation that his wife’s respiratory issues were age- and weather-related. It seems that their La Madrague home’s air conditioning system was not operating at its best.
Brigitte had assured the public that she was fine, but a news source had said that she had remained in the intensive care unit. But in a handwritten message, the “A Very Private Affair” star corrected the record, saying, “I want to reassure everyone.” I’m doing great right now. The disease that I contracted was a source of scandal for the press.
My Sister Inherited Everything, While My Father Left Me Only a Chessboard, But the Secret It Held Shocked Our Entire Family — Story of the Day
My sister got the house. I got a chessboard. At first, I thought it was my father’s final insult — until I heard something strange rattling inside one of the pieces.
“Life is a chess game,” my father used to say. “You don’t win by shouting. You win by seeing three moves ahead.”
I used to roll my eyes when he said that. But that day I’d give anything to hear him say it one more time.
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I didn’t speak when he died in the bedroom where we played every Sunday. Didn’t speak when neighbors brought warm casseroles and colder condolences. Didn’t speak when my half-sister Lara arrived — tanned, smiling, wrapped in a coat that probably cost more than the funeral.
“Gosh,” she said to my mother, “it still smells like him in here.”
Of course, it did. His perfumed coat was still hanging by the door.
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Lara didn’t come to mourn. She came to collect.
We sat side by side waiting for the last will. Finally, the lawyer unfolded the envelope.
“For my daughter Lara, I leave the house and everything within it,” he read aloud. “The property cannot be sold while its current resident remains.”
Lara didn’t look at me. Just smiled.
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“And for my daughter Kate…”
The lawyer paused. I held my breath.
“I leave my chessboard and its pieces.”
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Lara let out a soft snort and tilted her head toward me.
“A house for me, and a hobby for you. Fitting, don’t you think?”
I didn’t answer. Just stood, picked up the chess set, and walked out. I could still hear her laughter behind me. Outside, I walked without a plan. The wind bit through my sleeves.
By the time I realized where I was going, my feet had already taken me to the old park. The chess tables were still there, half-sunken in stone and moss.
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I sat down. Opened the box. My fingers moved without thinking. Bishop. Knight. Pawn. King.
“You’re really doing this?”
The voice sliced through the silence. I didn’t need to turn around. Lara. She appeared beside me and dropped into the seat like it had always been hers.
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“Still clinging to Daddy’s toys? You really are predictable.”
She reached out and moved a pawn without asking. I responded.
We started playing.
“You know,” she said, cocking her head, “he always thought this game taught character. But it’s just wood. Just symbols.”
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She moved again. “I got the house.”
I stayed quiet.
“You got a game.”
Pawn. Knight. Bishop.
“You always thought this meant something,” she continued. “But in the end, it’s just wood.”
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Her final move came fast. A snap of the wrist.
“Checkmate,” she declared, slamming the knight down with unnecessary flair.
Then — for the drama, or maybe just for cruelty — she stood and swept the board with her arm.
“No point in clinging to illusions.”
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The pieces scattered. Some bounced on the stone table. Others tumbled into the grass. One landed near my foot. I reached down. Picked it up. It was heavier than I remembered. I rolled it between my fingers.
Click.
What is that?
Not the sound of wood. Not hollow. I picked up another piece. Gently shook it. Rattle. My breath caught in my throat.
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There’s something inside!
I looked up. Lara was watching me. Our eyes locked. And in that split second, I was almost sure — she’d heard it too. But she tilted her head, as if bored, and let her gaze drift past me like I wasn’t even there.
“Come to dinner tonight,” she said casually. “Mother asked. Said we should honor him properly. As a family.”
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I blinked.
“Did she really?”
“Of course. It’s what he would’ve wanted. We should all be… civil.”
She turned and walked away before I could respond, heels clicking against the path like a ticking clock.
Did she just make that up? Or did she plan it?
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Knowing Lara, either answer could be true. She was clever. And invitations could be just as dangerous as threats.
That dinner wasn’t a gesture.
It was a move. She is playing with me now.
And I had no choice but to sit at the board.
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***
A few hours later, Lara was already in the kitchen when I came downstairs — humming, stirring, plating food like she’d done it a thousand times.
She even wore an apron. The one she used to call “tragically domestic.”
“Evening,” she said brightly, opening the oven. “Hope you’re hungry. I made rosemary chicken. And there’s a vegan option for Mom.”
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I blinked. Our mother looked up at Lara as if someone had replaced her overnight.
“You cooked?” she asked, brows raised.
Lara laughed sweetly.
“It’s not that hard. I followed a recipe. Even cut fresh parsley for garnish.”
Fresh parsley. Of course.
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I took my seat in silence. Across from the impostor who wore my sister’s face.
Throughout the meal, Lara kept the performance going — passing dishes with both hands, topping off water glasses, smiling like she hadn’t just mocked me in a park hours earlier.
She didn’t look at me. Not directly. Not until I stood and placed the chessboard on the hallway console. Just behind me. Just in view. Closed. Waiting.
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That was my move.
A pawn offered. I wanted to see if she’d flinch. She didn’t flinch. But her smile stretched a little too tight.
Our mother noticed.
“You’ve been very sweet today,” she said to Lara, her voice light but deliberate. “Unusually sweet.”
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“I’m trying to be better. We’re family, right?”
“Some bonds are stronger than others,” our mother said, cutting into her food. “Especially when they’re tested. When people choose to stay, to support.”
Her eyes didn’t leave me as she said it. I forced a smile.
“Is that what this is? Support?”
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“I just think,” she said, setting down her fork, “that your father… he finally saw who truly stood beside him. Who gave him peace.”
“Peace?” I asked, my voice tightening. “You mean silence. Compliance. He didn’t want peace — he wanted loyalty.”
“And you think that was you?”
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I looked at Lara. “I stayed. I bathed him. Fed him. Watched him fade.”
“And he left you a game,” Lara said, still smiling.
“Maybe that says more about him than me,” I said sharply.
Our, no, Lara’s mother leaned forward.
“He gave my daughter the house because she deserved it. She sacrificed more than you know. And maybe it’s time you stopped acting like the victim.”
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“I’m not acting. You’re just not used to seeing me speak.”
There was a pause — full, sharp. Then Lara laughed.
“Okay, let’s not ruin dinner. This is supposed to be nice.”
Her mother turned to me.
“You should start packing in the morning. Just so there are no… complications.”
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I stared at her. At both of them. At the fake peace, they tried to pass as family.
I picked up my plate. Quietly brought it to the sink. I didn’t say thank you. I didn’t say anything.
Just turned, walked upstairs, and locked my door behind me.
I knew one thing for certain. Dinner wasn’t over.
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***
The house held its breath. I was waiting.
Suddenly…
Somewhere in the darkness, I heard the soft creak of floorboards. A quiet click of a drawer. A velvet shuffle. Lara was crouched over the chessboard, the pieces already scattered, some opened. A paring knife beside her.
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One of the rooks cracked in half. A small velvet pouch in her hand, glinting with stolen pride.
“So,” I said calmly. “It wasn’t just wood after all.”
Lara spun around, startled, then narrowed her eyes.
“You knew.”
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I didn’t answer. She stood, straightening herself like a dancer on a stage.
“I solved it,” she said. “He left the real gift inside the game. And I found it.”
“You broke it open like a thief.”
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“He gave you the board, but he gave me the meaning. And now I have it.”
“Do you?”
From the shadows behind us, her mother emerged.
“She figured it out,” she said simply. “And you didn’t.”
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I looked at both of them. At the confidence in Lara’s eyes. At the satisfaction twisting in her mouth. They were already reaching for the stones.
Lara lifted the pouch and dropped a few of them onto her palm — bright, glassy things.
“Check and mate,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“No. Zugzwang.”
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“What?”
“It’s a chess term. It means every move you make now only makes things worse.”
The mother frowned. “What are you talking about?”
I stepped closer to the table. Tapped one of the pieces Lara had cracked open.
“Glass. Colored, smooth. From a sewing kit, I’ve had since I was fifteen.”
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I looked straight at Lara.
“You found what I let you find.”
She went pale. “The stones you found? They’re fakes. Glass. From an old bead kit, I used to keep for sewing buttons.
“I swapped them out the morning after the funeral.”
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Lara’s face paled. “You’re lying.”
I reached into my coat and pulled out a slim envelope.
“Here’s the deposit confirmation from the bank. The real pouch is already locked away. Under my name. Safe. Untouchable.”
Lara stepped back as the paper burned her. Her mother said nothing.
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“And there’s something else,” I said, reaching into the lining of the chessboard case.
A folded piece of paper. Soft from time, but intact.
“My father’s real will. The one he hid, because he knew the official one would only start the game.”
I opened it and read aloud:
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“To my daughters…
If you’re reading this, it means the game has played out.
Lara, I loved you fiercely. I gave you much. You had freedom, opportunity, and every chance to show who you are. To your mother — I gave all I could. I hope it brought peace.
Kate — you stayed. You carried the weight. I gave you little but left you the map. That was my last game. My test.
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If you are honest, you may live together in peace. If not, everything belongs to Kate.
I gave you all the pieces of me. I needed to see who would protect the whole.”
I folded the letter. Silence hung between us like fog. I looked at Lara, then her mother.
“Checkmate.”
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