A Gamble Called Marriage - Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The wrinkled hand briefly touched and withdrew from Maël’s jacket.

“Attorney Munmatié.”

“Oh, hello, Attorney Bernardi.”

“What brings you to such a place for dinner? It couldn’t have been easy to secure a reservation at Le Louis.”

Maël looked at the face of the old lawyer, who resembled an aged owl. Swallowing his confusion, Thierry Bernardi, the legal advisor to the Prince’s Palace of Monaco and president of the Monaco Bar Association, confidently walked to the white arched tunnel at the entrance to Le Louis. He addressed the reservation clerk.

“There should be a reservation under Attorney Maël Munmatié.”

“No, I….”

All Maël had was a note directing him here. But there was no time to linger in surprise.

“I’ve confirmed your reservation for 7:30. Please, follow me.”

The reservation clerk walked briskly, as if expecting them, and opened the golden door to Le Louis restaurant.

The interior of the restaurant was bathed in gold. The ceiling featured a domed centerpiece with a Rococo-style blue painting embedded in it. As they passed tables spaced widely enough to ensure private conversations, Maël tried to guess the intent behind this meeting.

There must be a reason.

The day the photos landed in his hands, the person locking horns over Philippe and Manon’s prenuptial agreement had arranged this undoubtedly expensive dinner.

The new CEO of the Riviera Hotel seemed to be an impatient person.

“Let’s go with the set course. How about a simple wine pairing?”

“Yes, whatever you prefer.”

The numbers beside the dishes he glimpsed were astounding. Still, this wasn’t a place to worry about what would go into his mouth. When Maël responded calmly, Bernardi laughed heartily.

“I never thought I’d be treated with such generosity by Attorney Munmatié.”

Maël simply smiled quietly.

Wine and appetizers were served, and trivial conversation followed. They talked about the health of a mutual acquaintance, a lawyer, and about the courthouse restrooms, which had been out of use for two weeks due to prolonged plumbing work.

As Maël hesitated, Bernardi casually broached a topic.

“You must be busy these days with such a big family event. I remember how hectic things got before my child’s wedding.”

Lacking appetite, Maël had been cutting his asparagus dressed in ewe’s milk sauce into small pieces. Now, he set his fork down. It was a case they were both handling, and while he had to tread carefully, the time had come to bring it up.

“Since you mention it, I happened to come across some photos recently.”

“Photos.”

Bernardi remained composed, not even glancing at Maël, focusing instead on his asparagus. Maël didn’t let it deter him.

“They were photos of a victim of assault. Even at a glance, the injuries to the face, upper limbs, head, and neck indicated bruises, abrasions, and suspected fractures—serious physical harm.”

“Oh dear. Such grim talk over a meal.”

Philippe’s lawyer continued cutting his asparagus. Maël pressed on.

“I hear hush money was paid. But as you know, assault here is subject to investigation and prosecution regardless of the victim’s wishes. As a third party, I can file a complaint.”

“Of course, I know that.”

Only then did Bernardi look up. Rolling the golden wineglass in his hand, he chuckled.

“But why stir up wounds in people who have taken the money and are living well? That’s not our job. If I may advise you, our first duty is always to protect and respect our clients. Are you representing someone in this matter?”

“No.”

“Then, even more so, you should save your time. They might say they don’t wish to pursue charges. If that’s the case, filing a complaint will amount to little. It’s a futile endeavor. Besides, many people feel ashamed about being assaulted. How many would want that exposed to the public?”

It was a lengthy admonition. Though delivered as advice from a senior in the field, it carried no concern for his junior.

“If it’s justice you’re after, there are many paths besides being a lawyer, Attorney Munmatié.”

“Embarrassing as it is to admit, I didn’t raise this issue for the sake of justice.”

Maël looked directly into Bernardi’s wrinkled eyes. They had met several times before over the prenuptial agreement negotiations. Each meeting left Maël with the impression that Bernardi was a vile man. He knew full well that this was no ordinary prenuptial agreement, yet he stubbornly parroted the line that the prince’s family couldn’t accommodate the terms.

The negotiations remained deadlocked as time passed. Meanwhile, Manon’s in-laws gleefully pressured her, asking why she wouldn’t sign a “standard contract.”

“I believe you have an idea why I’m bringing this up. Do I really need to spell it out?”

“If it’s unnecessary, there’s no benefit to saying it.”

Blinking his large owl-like eyes, Bernardi wiped his lips. Maël spoke calmly.

“I was shocked and disappointed when I saw the photos, but it’s not my wedding. I have no desire to dig into this further. Besides, I don’t want my sister to be distressed.”

There wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in his words. Every sentence was a deception, even to himself. He felt disgusted saying such things.

His disappointment went beyond words. Deep down, he wanted to ruin his sister’s wedding. To expose everything, to stop the marriage even if it meant breaking the law.

But when he thought of what would come after….

The only thing Maël could do now for his sister, who refused to give up on the marriage, was ultimately just one thing.

“Please acknowledge that the previously proposed prenuptial agreement contains unreasonable terms and actively participate in the negotiation process. As a lawyer, you’re well aware that the contract is legally absurd, so I don’t think there’s much need for you to work hard to persuade your client.”

The food he had swallowed without tasting now churned uncomfortably in his stomach, all for the sake of uttering those words.

The opposing lawyer silently scrutinized Maël with his clouded eyes. He was one of the most influential lawyers in this region and a close confidant of the prince. Mustering the last bit of courage left in him, Maël spoke again.

“There’s no need to provoke your client’s displeasure by letting them know I’m aware of this. The fact that the photos ended up in my possession was purely coincidental.”

It was undoubtedly Bernardi who had handed over the hush money. If it became known that the secret had leaked, the one to be troubled would be the lawyer himself. At those words, the tension in Bernardi’s jaw gradually eased.

“I understand. What’s with all the trembling over such simple words? I’ll see what I can do, so why don’t you finish your meal?”

Even if Bernardi had no other options, his reaction was surprisingly agreeable.

The asparagus was cleared away, and the main course was served. Following that came the cheese cart, pink pepper sorbet, and passionfruit soufflé. Throughout the rest of the meal, only minimal conversation occurred at the table.

“Well, I’ve enjoyed the meal. I apologize, but I have another engagement, so I’ll have to leave first. I suppose I’ll see you at the next negotiation.”

Before the bill even arrived, Bernardi rose from his seat. Though his face wore a smile, he could hardly have been in a good mood.

Still dazed by how quickly things had progressed without needing to show the horrifying photos as evidence, Maël asked for the bill.

Finally, he was catching his breath.

“Maël!”

The voice that called out to him was so painfully familiar that he looked up. Sitting himself down uninvited at the table Bernardi had vacated was Charles.

“You were the one who called me here? I had a hunch and decided to check just in case. Good thing I did.”

“…What are you talking about?”

It was the very person Maël had avoided seeing, now plopping down as if it were nothing and spouting nonsense. He didn’t bother hiding his displeasure, yet Charles burst into hearty laughter.

“You told me to come to Le Louis by 8:30. You left a Post-it on my car.”

A Post-it? The surge of anger made Maël exhale sharply. To suppress it, he stared at the stark white tablecloth until his eyes burned, while Charles wouldn’t stop talking.

“I never imagined it was you. Are you eating? You actually know how to make reservations at places like this? I’m honestly touched—”

“I’ve already eaten. I’m about to pay and leave.”

“Huh? What? No way… Don’t joke around. That’s not funny.”

It was the kind of sly, amused smile Charles often wore, utterly smooth and polished—just like him.

“What should we order? I hear the wine pairing here is great. I’ll treat you today, so order whatever you want. Let’s drink and forget about everything, alright?”