A Gamble Called Marriage - Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 

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Manon yawned as she entered the front door. Maël, who had been tapping away at his laptop with piles of documents spread out on the dining table, took off his glasses.

 

“Hey, eat this while you work.”

 

Manon, who had arrived past dinnertime, placed a dessert box at the end of the table. As she untied the cross-shaped ribbon, the light-blue box opened to reveal a variety of colorful desserts. From the box containing mille-feuille, cream puffs, strawberry pie, and opera cake, Manon handed him a cream puff before yawning again and asking,

 

“How are things with Charles these days?”

 

She tried to make it sound like an everyday question, but Manon wasn’t good at that. Her awkwardness, as she deliberately looked elsewhere, tipped Maël off that the recent commotion had likely made its rounds in Monaco.

 

“We broke up.”

 

“Really? For real? Why?”

 

Manon had liked Charles, her brother’s boyfriend. It wasn’t hard to see why. With his clean-cut appearance and knack for bringing thoughtful gifts whenever they had house dates, Charles had naturally won her favor.

 

“He’s got a friend who couldn’t take his eyes off you mixing drinks at the bar, Manon. Just have one meal with him—he’s rich, so make sure you get a good dinner out of it, okay?”

 

It had been Charles who had introduced Manon to Philippe with those words.

 

“Thinking about it, they really were a bad match.”

 

After seeing that photo, Maël wanted to ask Charles every time they met—did he genuinely not know about Philippe’s behavior when he introduced him to Manon?

 

But questioning it now was pointless. Instead of asking, Maël had cut off whatever lingering affection remained.

 

“Why? You two were doing fine—why did you break up? You didn’t even fight.”

 

“We’re both busy. We don’t even have time to meet.”

 

“When were you two ever not busy?”

 

Hopefully, the story about him cheating hadn’t reached her ears.

 

Perhaps this neighborhood’s sense of propriety was what spared Manon, who was preparing for her wedding, from hearing such vulgar tales. Maël hesitated before cautiously asking,

 

“Is it already gossip?”

 

“Of course. People love Le Roux. A lot of folks work there.”

 

Maël chuckled weakly and bit into the cream puff. The sweet cream burst in his mouth, and Manon pulled something out of her pocket and placed it in front of him.

 

“I saw Charles briefly today. He asked me to give this to you.”

 

What she placed on the table was the bracelet he had thrown away some time ago. It had been flawlessly repaired, and just looking at it gave him chills.

 

“Don’t bring me things like this.”

 

“Can’t you give it another try?”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“But Charles is close to the Crown Prince, isn’t he? Who knows? Maybe next time he could convince the Grand Duke not to veto the same-sex marriage bill…”

 

“Unless a billionaire gay man shows up with bags of money to butter him up, I doubt the Grand Duke would ever allow it, no matter how many words Charles gets in through Felix.”

 

Though Maël spoke decisively, Manon still seemed intent on persuading him. He needed to change the subject. Watching his sister, who kept covering her mouth and yawning, Maël asked,

 

“Did you not sleep?”

 

“I’m trying to quit the morning sickness medication.”

 

As she said this, Manon picked up a strawberry pie and took a bite. Her cheeks, thinner every time he saw her, caught his attention.

 

Shouldn’t she have gained some weight by now, being pregnant? Maël mulled over his vague notions of what should be normal and cautiously asked,

 

“Did the doctor tell you to stop taking it?”

 

“Not really. It’s just that I have so much to do, and the medication makes me drowsy. I can’t afford to sleep all day. I’d rather feel nauseous on solid ground than drift off. The other day, I actually dozed off in front of the bishop during pre-marital counseling.”

 

In Monaco, where Catholicism is the state religion, such classes were a mandatory part of the process before marriage. Maël smiled dryly at how the preparations for her marriage were progressing steadily, whether he liked it or not.

 

“It happens. Is the counseling difficult?”

 

“It’s not that, but it does make me feel guilty, having a baby in my belly already.”

 

The only reason Maël hadn’t pushed his sister harder about the challenges of pre-marital counseling or shown her the photos he still had in his briefcase was simple: love is such an intense emotion that it only burns brighter the more others try to extinguish it.

 

The so-called Romeo and Juliet effect.

 

In his law firm’s consultation room, Maël had heard countless tearful tales, all concluding the same way. Once love blossomed in the face of opposition and later fell apart, it became almost impossible to reach out to the very family who had tried to warn them. Admitting one’s mistake in front of them was too painful.

 

He couldn’t let things get so strained with Manon that she became a family member he could no longer reach.

 

That was why Maël gave up playing the villain. Instead, he focused his efforts on revising the prenuptial agreement to ensure her divorce, should it come to that, would be as smooth as possible.

 

“Do you really think they’ll agree to this? I’m pushing it because you asked, but I’m not sure the other side will accept these terms.”

 

The heavily amended prenuptial agreement, with nearly every clause rewritten, had even drawn a frown from Diane. She implied it was pointless since the opposing lawyer refused to budge.

 

But then the Grand Ducal legal team had sent over a meeting date, suggesting they bring their clients along. It meant they were ready to sign.

 

Only then had Maël felt a bit of relief.

 

“Manon, did you review the new prenuptial agreement? I added a few clauses.”

 

“No. Diane called and said they mostly accepted what you discussed during the meeting. But at the time, I was too distracted by the announcement about the reception venue being changed to the Riviera Hotel.”

 

Ah, yes. That, too. The wedding reception had been unexpectedly moved from the courtyard of the Grand Ducal Palace to the Riviera Hotel.

 

“Did they explain why it was changed?”

 

“I don’t ask about those things anymore. I’m sure there’s a reason. I just go along with it.”

 

The bride may be the star of the wedding, but all Manon had to do was show up on time and avoid any impulsive behavior. After finishing a slice of pie, Manon muttered while choosing another dessert from the box,

 

“Still, I like that it’s at the Riviera Hotel. It feels like home. Honestly, we probably know it better than the architect who designed it.”

 

“Considering how many years we spent roaming the offices and rooms there.”

 

The Riviera Hotel was where their father had worked as general manager for years. Unable to leave his children home alone, he often parked Maël and Manon in empty hotel rooms or offices after school. Over time, the place had genuinely become more familiar than their actual home.

 

“At least you know how to sneak away without being caught on camera if you ever need to escape.”

 

“I’m not running away, Maël.”

 

Manon cut him off sharply at his subtle remark. She reached into the dessert box to pick out a mille-feuille, prompting Maël to rise with a serious expression.

 

Before heading to fetch a plate, Maël turned the laptop toward Manon.

 

“Use this to review the prenuptial agreement. The file’s open. Ask me right away if there’s anything you don’t understand, and make sure to go over everything thoroughly tomorrow as well. If there’s anything you want to change, say it now.”

 

From behind him, as Maël chose a plate to put the mille-feuille on, Manon spoke.

 

“You’ll be there tomorrow, right? And Diane too.”

 

“Yeah. So there’s nothing to stress about.”

 

He replied, bringing the plate along with a glass of milk. Manon, who had been quiet, was now staring at the laptop screen.

 

But it wasn’t the prenuptial agreement she was looking at.

 

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It was an email he had absentmindedly left open earlier when checking his inbox. One of the many internet tabs he had left open.

 

“Oh, sorry, Maël. Where do I click?”

 

Startled, Manon turned to him belatedly. Maël tapped the touchpad a few times to bring up the prenuptial agreement.

 

An awkward silence fell. Yet neither of them said anything about the email. Instead, Maël tapped the screen and spoke.

 

“You probably heard about this during the meeting, but take your time reading it.”

 

Starting with the basics, such as the legal jurisdiction for the contract and any disputes being in Monaco, it covered clauses on safeguarding the child’s lifelong assets, life insurance provisions, relevant trust setups, ensuring Manon could continue living in a specific property, and non-disparagement clauses. The added clauses made the explanations longer, and though Manon yawned, she listened attentively.

 

The ridiculous provisions from the original draft of the prenuptial agreement had disappeared without a trace.

 

“Does it include property division clauses too?”

 

“They’re included in every prenuptial agreement. Actually, property division is the foundation of prenuptial agreements. Everything else is optional.”

 

“Hmm. So the part you added at the end is here?”

 

“Yeah. Look at Article 3, Clause 16. The section on joint property.”

 

“Hold on. The parties… mutually agree… as joint ownership property…”

 

Manon read slowly, following the words on the screen aloud, her eyes heavy with drowsiness. Maël waited patiently until she stopped midway.

 

“Clause 7 was added there.”

 

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Manon, scanning the section on the screen, looked up.

 

“This is the Monte Carlo Casino, right? Why is this here?”

 

“It’s been included as joint property. From the moment the contract is signed, half of Philippe’s shares will belong to you.”

 

“Um… Is that okay? Why?”

 

“It’s symbolic. Whatever happens, you should still be treated as family there. You’re going to be the mother of the child inheriting their family’s bloodline. Do you want to exclude it?”

 

Excluding it wasn’t an option. The inclusion of this clause was the very basis for making the agreement signable in the first place.

 

It had been verbally relayed by Yves’ secretary the day after Philippe’s appalling remark about her being a suitable lover and nothing more. Maël had confirmed this part of the contract directly with them as well.

 

“This is good for me, right?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Then it’s fine. Thanks, Maël. All I need to do tomorrow is sign, right?”

 

Manon, smiling casually, nodded in agreement.