Episode 38
Luis drank the rest of his wine in one gulp.
It was considered old-fashioned to finish a glass of sparkling wine in one go at an afternoon party, but Luis didn’t care. After all, wasn’t it Enrique who would be judged for it anyway?
Riella Mollet had just finished tuning the piano and was now talking to the violinist.
Luis stared blankly at her. With such a large dowry, she could have her pick of anyone, yet she sought the highest honor instead. There were already rumors that Enrique Solivan was going to marry her.
Luis knew full well that Mrs. Solivan had already rejected the Mollet family once.
Nevertheless, Enrique had nominated Riella Mollet as his bride for one simple reason: practicality. She was the fastest path to paying off the family debt.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Enrique proposed to Riella Mollet right here and now,” Luis remarked casually.
“What?!” Andrei jumped, alarmed. “You can’t commit such an offense!”
“But from Enrique’s perspective, it seems like that girl might want him to,” Luis replied, laughing quietly.
The atmosphere was lively. Faces gleamed with excitement, feet moved in time to the music, and the bright lights reflected off elegant clothing. Voices recited poetry, laughter echoed, and everything seemed to shine.
Luis knew that Enrique used to cherish such occasions. He’d been a man who believed in the beauty and permanence of joy. But now, such gatherings held no meaning for him.
“Where are you going today?”
Enrique’s goals and Luis’ goals were vastly different. Andrei often called Luis’ pursuits “perverse,” but Luis didn’t care. He didn’t have the luxury of time to worry about such things.
Lost in thought, Luis’ gaze suddenly stopped. A young woman had entered the hall, holding the hands of two children. It was Monica Offen.
Without thinking, Luis grabbed a glass from a passing waiter and headed towards her.
Andrei, catching sight of him, whispered furiously, “Where are you going?!”
Luis flashed a dazzling smile that only served to irritate his secretary further.
He approached Monica, who was hesitantly retreating, and deliberately bumped into her.
—
Meeting Enrique Solivan at a banquet had made Monica realize that he was a remarkable man.
But this man sitting cross-legged on the bench in the corridor? He had the same face as Enrique, yet felt like a completely different person.
Perhaps it was the setting—she usually met Enrique under the dim glow of candles, while Luis was always bathed in sunlight.
The afternoon light poured through the corridor’s windows, illuminating the gray brick walls. Luis wore a dark blue suit with a finely crafted lace cravat around his neck. His slightly disheveled blond hair and sweat-dampened forehead would make any naive girl’s heart race.
“Sit, Moni,” he said casually, taking off his cravat without hesitation.
Luis gestured towards a wide, old-fashioned sofa, clearly indicating that Monica should sit next to him.
Monica didn’t refuse. She felt no pressure when it came to Luis—unlike Enrique.
Once seated, Monica glanced up at him. Luis smiled faintly.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“It’s… strange,” she replied, her green eyes filled with suspicion. “That face… smiling like this.”
Luis chuckled. “Ahaha.”
The piano in the hall struck a bold, dramatic note, and Monica couldn’t help but giggle, reminded of how Riella would get angry.
“Andrei says the same thing every day,” Luis remarked.
“Oh, that secretary,” Monica said, recalling Andrei’s stern demeanor.
Luis grinned. “He’s always telling me, ‘If you’re going to use your face like that, go seduce all the girls at the banquet and leave.’”
“Do you think about doing that?” Monica asked, raising an eyebrow.
Instead of answering, Luis winked playfully.
“You owe me an apology,” he said suddenly.
“For what?” Monica asked, though she already knew.
He was referring to the time when he’d dragged her into the shadows of a commercial street, avoiding noblewomen.
“I understand,” Monica said with a shrug. “I’d have done the same. Lord Solivan couldn’t afford to be seen with someone like me on the street.”
Luis smiled softly. “I’m glad you think of it as a funny coincidence.”
“You’re a philanderer,” Monica accused him, crossing her arms.
Luis spread his arms wide in mock innocence.
“But isn’t it fate?” he teased. “You met me first, then Garcia. Then you met Enrique. And we keep running into each other—doesn’t that mean something?”
Monica jabbed his forehead lightly with her finger.
“I won’t fall for your flowery words, Luis. Don’t pretend to care when you don’t.”
“Who’s pretending?” he asked, pretending to look around as if searching.
“They say men like you leave women in tears,” Monica retorted.
“Oh, if someone dropped something, isn’t it a lady’s virtue to pick it up and return it?” Luis quipped, grinning.
“There’s always a reason why things are dropped,” Monica countered. “Picking them up carelessly always leads to trouble.”
“But what if I really do fall for you?” Luis whispered with a smirk.
Monica resisted the urge to punch him. She didn’t want Enrique waking up later, wondering about a mark on his forehead.
“When men say things like that, it’s usually followed by something unpleasant,” she muttered.
“Oh, Moni Moni, it’s a confession of my love!”
Monica rolled her eyes.
“The worst thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, “was a proposal.”
Luis burst into laughter.
“What a bleak life you’ve led, Monimoni! A proposal, the worst?”
“Not all proposals are romantic,” Monica replied coldly.
Luis stopped laughing and knelt before her, startling her.
“Tell me your story,” he said sincerely.
Hesitating, Monica glanced around to ensure no one was watching before finally speaking.
“I was a nurse during the war. A man I nursed proposed to me. He assumed I’d say yes because I was poor and an orphan. It didn’t feel like love—it felt like an attack.”
Luis frowned.
“People are awful,” he said, sounding genuinely upset.
“You think so? You were just laughing a moment ago.”
Luis sighed. “I’m no better. I was pressured to propose to Riella Mollet too.”
Monica studied him thoughtfully. She couldn’t shake the memory of Riella’s desperate expression when she’d spoken to Enrique about marriage.
