Episode 37
“Uh… what’s going on?”
Monica asked, but the man didn’t respond. Instead, he gestured with his thumb toward a side passage.
When Monica turned her head, she noticed a small corridor leading out of the hall. It wasn’t the main entrance but a path with stairs that led down to the garden through a terrace.
Was he suggesting they talk somewhere more private?
“But—”
Before Monica could finish, the sound of piano keys echoed through the hall. Everyone turned their attention to the music, including Monica.
Riella, standing in the center of the room, had begun to play. Martinel stood proudly beside her, seemingly pleased with himself for handing her the sheet music.
However, Riella’s gaze wasn’t on the sheet music; it was elsewhere.
Monica froze, then glanced at Enrique, who stood in front of her. To her surprise, his gaze was on her—not on Riella.
“Sir Sollivan, now isn’t…” Monica began awkwardly.
Enrique tilted his head slightly, a playful glint in his eyes.
Monica glanced back at Riella again. She was still watching—no, scrutinizing—the two of them. When their eyes met, Riella quickly turned her head away, feigning disinterest.
The other guests seemed unaware of this subtle exchange, likely assuming Riella was simply scanning the audience.
But Monica knew better.
Her heart raced as she looked back at Enrique.
If it’s difficult, we can talk later, her lips seemed to say without sound.
Monica hesitated, then reached out and lightly tugged on his damp sleeve. Without attracting attention, she slipped away into the corridor.
Enrique scanned the room, ensuring no one would notice their absence, and followed her down the hallway.
—
The stairs led to a dimly lit corridor. Monica leaned against the wall, waiting. When Enrique approached, she quickly straightened and bowed her head.
“Sorry about your sleeve. I didn’t see you.”
“There’s no need to apologize. I bumped into you on purpose.”
“What?” Monica’s eyes widened in shock.
Enrique—or rather, the man pretending to be Enrique—flashed a bright smile.
“Yes.”
“Luis!” Monica exclaimed, thumping his chest lightly.
Luis chuckled, his laughter muffled by the sound of the piano upstairs.
“I was so bored. Pretending to be Enrique seemed like a good way to entertain myself.”
“I really thought you were him!”
Luis winked and reached for her hand but stopped upon noticing that his gloves were damp with wine. Pulling them off, he gently took her hand and kissed its back.
“You knew I wasn’t Enrique, didn’t you? You were just pretending not to.”
“I can’t pretend that I know something about Luis!”
Strangely, the moment Monica realized the man wasn’t Enrique but Luis, she felt at ease.
She deliberately shook off his hand and wrinkled her nose.
“That’s really bad of you.”
“Women like bad guys.”
“The worst thing is saying that when you don’t mean it.”
Luis laughed but didn’t deny her accusation. He really was a scoundrel.
—
Luis didn’t want to attend the banquet at all. He found such events tiresome and dull.
But Andrei, ever persistent, had insisted.
“There are two young ladies Mrs. Sollivan has her eye on besides Miss Mollett,” Andrei had explained.
“And why should I care?” Luis had replied lazily.
“The first payment for the Sollivan family’s war reparations is due in two months. One of those ladies is a major investor in Red Hill Bank.”
“Can’t Enrique handle this himself?”
Andrei sighed. “It would be difficult.”
“So it falls on me,” Luis concluded, reluctantly standing up.
Andrei wasted no time preparing him. In a household devoid of maids, Andrei’s efficiency was nearly miraculous. By the time Luis was ready, he looked every bit the part of an upstanding young gentleman.
As they prepared to leave, Luis smirked. “I’m still leaving as soon as this is over.”
Andrei replied sternly: “I’ve never stopped you before.”
“Good. Then don’t stop me now.”
As he donned Enrique’s persona, Luis flipped through the notebook Enrique used to leave notes for his other personalities.
The Sollivan family’s second son had three distinct personalities—technically four, though one rarely emerged. The notebook was their way of keeping track of each other’s activities.
One note caught Luis’s attention: “Monica Offen.”
Luis sighed, muttering under his breath, “I’ve tried my best to avoid her.”
He had read about Monica’s involvement during the war and her decision to help Enrique obtain the ‘green pill.’ Though Luis didn’t agree with Enrique’s intentions, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued.
“Fate,” Luis mused.
“Pardon?” Andrei asked.
“Meeting Monica again—it feels like fate,” Luis said, ticking off their encounters on his fingers. “We met at the port, then Garcia dragged her into trouble. And now, here she is again.”
Andrei remained silent, though he shared Luis’s unease about Monica.
Luis’s grin widened. “If this keeps up, I might accidentally end up marrying her.”
Andrei’s dry response: “To avoid that, you should focus on today’s banquet.”
“Oh, I don’t think marrying Monica would be so bad,” Luis teased. “She’s cute.”
Andrei rolled his eyes. “That’s not something someone who flirts with countless women should say.”
Luis chuckled. He found teasing Andrei endlessly amusing.
At the banquet, Luis found himself bored as expected.
The ladies flitted from one gentleman to another, discussing charity work they would never personally attend to. The men, meanwhile, either danced or drank sparkling wine.
Luis smirked at Andrei. “How proactive.”
He wasn’t referring to the guests, but to Riella Mollett, who was tuning the piano. Her large pearl headband caught his attention.
“How much do you think that headband costs?” Luis asked.
Andrei gave him a withering look. “Why are you even curious?”
Luis shrugged. “I couldn’t help admiring it earlier. The pearls are stunning.”
Andrei sighed, clearly exasperated. “Why don’t you smile at Miss Mollett the way you smile at all those ‘roses’ that you entertain?”
Luis flashed Andrei a dazzling smile.
“No, thank you.”
Andrei groaned inwardly. Luis, ever the rogue, was enjoying himself far too much at his expense.
