A Gamble Called Marriage - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

In Monaco, where demand overflowed and new buildings were under construction daily, it was only a thirty-minute drive. Mael lived in Nice, France, commuting across the border for work.

 

“You live in Nice? There?”

 

The people of Monaco, who disliked leaving their borders unless it was to board a private jet due to the lack of an airport, widened their eyes and made comments every time he mentioned his address. But even so, Mael had no intention of giving up the home he had barely managed to secure after paying off his father’s gambling debts.

 

Even though Nice, nestled along the Mediterranean, was a famous French holiday destination, it was relatively quiet compared to Monaco. Above all, purchasing a house of the same size as his two-bedroom home in Monaco would have cost him ten times more.

 

“I’m home, brother.”

 

Manon, who until recently had occupied one of the rooms in the Nice house, opened the front door as a guest. Mael, slicing black olives to remove the pits, looked up and observed his younger sister entering the kitchen.

 

“Just wait a little. It won’t take long. Does it smell okay?”

 

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

 

Manon, after washing her hands, opened the kitchen window. Along with the hesitant morning sunlight, the briny scent of garden plants wafted in.

 

“Aren’t there any photographers showing up?”

 

“Doesn’t seem like anyone followed me. It’s probably because it’s the weekend morning. But they’re likely at the country club. Are you really not working today, brother?”

 

For Mael, there were no days when he didn’t work. There were only days he worked more or less.

 

However, today he had to keep things simple and head out to play tennis. Manon had desperately called him earlier that morning, pleading for him to accompany her. While he hadn’t asked who would be there, the answer was obvious.

 

“I’ll answer the phone if someone calls.”

 

“I heard about it. Didn’t you say it’s okay to take calls even on weekends? Why do those people call you about their credit cards being declined? Or complain that their ex-husbands introduced their kids to new girlfriends without permission? Is that really lawyer business?”

 

“Surprisingly, it is.”

 

“At least tell them to do it during the week.”

 

“Let’s pray together: May all family disputes occur between nine to six on weekdays. They don’t seem to listen when I’m the only one asking.”

 

Mael said this as he mixed the sliced olives into a bowl. Most of the ingredients were already prepared. While slicing the tomatoes, he spoke.

 

“More importantly, why did you ask me to make this? You always say my cooking tastes bad.”

 

“I didn’t say it tastes good. I just really craved that bad taste.”

 

Manon’s evaluation was blunt. Even so, since her pregnancy, Manon had hardly mentioned any specific cravings, so Mael had gone to the market early that morning. Looking at her cheeks, thinner than they had been just days before, Mael asked:

 

“Are you getting any sleep?”

 

“If I take my anti-nausea meds, I get so drowsy. I feel like I could sleep all day. But if I don’t take them, I can’t sleep, so I can’t complain.”

 

“You haven’t hurt yourself, have you? Any concerns…?”

 

“Hurt myself?”

 

Her wide, innocent eyes were calm.

 

“What would I have to get hurt by? But of course, I have concerns.”

 

“What concerns?”

 

“That my belly might show before the wedding day.”

 

Her chatter suggested that she wasn’t hiding any violence. She seemed purely naive, and while Mael knew he should be grateful for that, his heart was heavy.

 

The images of those people from the photos Yves had shown him resurfaced.

 

Bruises, almost black, scattered like stains over their bodies.

 

“Manon.”

 

It wasn’t uncommon for him to see photos or medical records as evidence of domestic violence. Any violence was horrifying, but what had been done to those people in the photos was among the most severe and malicious cases Mael had encountered.

 

Such marks could be left on his sister’s body. Mael bit his lip at the dreadful thought.

 

His hands, however, remained busy. He opened a can of tuna and mixed it with olive oil. By the time the filling for the bread was ready, he finally managed to speak lightly, though it was deliberate.

 

“Manon, do you really want to get married?”

 

“What?”

 

“If it doesn’t feel right, you can call it off anytime. Breaking an engagement is much easier than a divorce.”

 

“Brother, what’s with you? Is it because of the prenuptial agreement?”

 

Manon’s fiancé, Philippe, was the eldest son of a grand duke but had ceded the position of heir to his younger brother early on, citing health reasons.

 

It was hard to say how that had affected him, but the man, born with lung issues and a fear of attention, always wore a faint smile. Among the group often seen with the grand duke’s sons, Philippe was considered the most reserved.

 

So it could be assumed that Philippe wasn’t the one responsible for those beatings, and the photos Yves had handed over were fake—a ridiculous scheme. But Mael couldn’t dismiss the possibility that it was Philippe who had inflicted those injuries on the people in the photos.

 

Especially since the prenuptial agreement Manon had exchanged for a pregnancy test, after crying her heart out over an unexpected pregnancy, said otherwise.

 

“You’re going to fix the agreement, aren’t you? I also saw it… and wasn’t thrilled, but…”

 

Does the grand ducal family even see Manon as a person?

 

As Mael, her brother, and as a lawyer who had reviewed thousands of prenuptial agreements, his first reaction upon reading the draft presented by the grand ducal family was disbelief.

 

It was vastly different from the standard agreements that typically dealt only with financial matters.

 

Among its meticulous clauses, the part about offering different amounts of money depending on the gender of the child was almost elegant. The clause stipulating a deadline for losing pregnancy weight was absurd. The legal phrasing of a clause that essentially allowed Philippe to have affairs while prohibiting Manon from doing so made him nauseous.

 

“And there was even a clause about violence.”

 

[In the event of physical or psychological harm among family members, the involved parties must immediately inform and consult with the designated individuals listed below, considering the potential social repercussions.]

 

The “designated individuals” listed below included Philippe, the grand duke’s personal secretaries, the protocol officer of the ducal family, and the head of security. Ultimately, this clause was designed to ensure that Manon could neither go directly to a hospital nor report to the police.

 

It was also the first clause that came to Mael’s mind when he saw the photos Yves had handed him.

 

“Brother, you can change it, right?”

 

When she asked again, looking uneasy, Mael gave a vague smile. Changing the agreement wasn’t the issue—this marriage itself had to be stopped. Manon, slicing the inside of a campagne loaf, pouted before adding:

 

“Honestly, I understand. After all, Philippe is a prince, and I’m just a 26-year-old bartender.”

 

“So what?”

 

Contrary to the praise of being a “Cinderella of the new era” from various quarters, what Manon stood to gain from this marriage was laughable: a meaningless title, a modest pension, and a token end-of-year bonus.

 

The casino shares Yves had mentioned weren’t even a possibility. And it seemed divorce was considered inconceivable, as the prenuptial agreement didn’t even mention property division or alimony. It contained only a few unimpressive compensation clauses in the event of the husband’s death.

 

“Manon, I love every cocktail you’ve ever made.”

 

“Says the guy who can barely drink.”

 

Manon laughed as she placed the completed pan bagnat sandwiches on a plate.

 

The two sat at the dining table, biting into the traditional sandwiches of the region.

 

“……”

 

He needed to bring it up properly. But watching his sister, smiling for the first time in a while as she ate, Mael found he couldn’t open his mouth.

 

Eventually, Manon’s plate was empty, while half the food on his remained. Unable to delay any further, Mael cautiously addressed his sister, who was sipping lemon juice.

 

“You know, even men who seem nice at first can turn cruel. I know because I’m a man too.”

 

“What? Brother, you’re gay.”

 

“Gay men aren’t men?”

 

At that, Manon playfully stuck out her tongue. To Mael, she was still his little sister—a child who had once clutched a doll and followed him around everywhere. Swallowing his rough emotions, he opened his mouth again.

 

“Have you ever asked Philippe about how his previous relationships ended?”

 

“What about you? Have you ever asked Charles something like that?”

 

“I’m not joking, Manon. I’ve seen… something.”

 

“What?”

 

Though he managed to get the words out, he couldn’t bring himself to answer the “what.” As he bit his lip, Manon laughed awkwardly.

 

“Philippe did mention that he had some wild times. But that’s all in the past, isn’t it? I mean, he’s literally the prince of one of the richest places in the world—it’s not surprising.”

 

“It wasn’t just being ‘wild.’ It was something worse.”

 

Silence lingered briefly. He couldn’t afford to shock Manon in her early pregnancy. But how could he avoid shocking her with this news? After carefully choosing his words, Mael finally spoke.

 

“Like how Dad was to us.”

 

“…Philippe hit someone?”

 

In the end, it was Manon who voiced the word. Mael nodded, and his sister, who had briefly opened her mouth, almost let out a laugh as she snapped back.

 

“Who? Who says that? How do you even know it was Philippe?”

 

“I saw evidence—photos. Would you believe it if I brought them to you?”

 

“It could just be someone trying to stop my wedding. There are crazy people out there who’d hurt themselves, you know.”

 

“Manon.”

 

“It’s a misunderstanding. What do you know? Philippe isn’t that kind of person. I’m the one marrying him—I know him best.”

 

Manon’s voice faltered, breaking intermittently. Her light brown eyes brimmed with tears.