His Merit, Her New Beginning

Holding the umbrella, I turned and left.

I could feel their prying eyes on my back.

The Consigliere hurried after me.

“Principessa, you’ve been wronged.”

I pushed open the study door. Files on every potential marriage candidate from the last three years were stacked in the corners.

“Consigliere, in your opinion, which of these families would make the strongest alliance?”

“With the Moretti family’s current standing, Principessa, any marriage for you is a luxury, not a necessity.”

“Then who is the most handsome?”

Seeing the Consigliere’s predicament, I randomly pulled out a file.

“Julian Costello.”

“Principessa, perhaps you should reconsider.”

“Why?”

Suddenly, a lazy voice drifted from the window.

“Because he's got a shit reputation. Spends his life in clubs, doesn't know the first thing about power or business. A notorious playboy.”

I sized him up, then glanced back at the file in my hand.

“You look better than your photo.”

The Consigliere pointed at the man on the wall and snapped, “You bastard! Climbing the walls of the Moretti estate? You got a death wish?”

I shoved the file into the Consigliere’s arms. “It’s him.”

Julian Costello was lounging on our outer wall, one leg casually crossed over the other.

Hearing that, he sat up straight, his gaze raking over me without a trace of restraint.

“Settle your business with Gabriel Falcone. I'm coming to marry you in seven days.”

With that, he vaulted off the high wall and disappeared.

The Consigliere took a deep breath, his face red with anger.

“What a worthless punk.”

“Not entirely useless. At least he’s well-informed.”

If a so-called "good-for-nothing" knows about Gabriel and me, then he's anything but.

In the evening, I went out.

In the gazebo, Gabriel was waiting.

He sat across from me and, with a single glance, dismissed the staff.

I sipped my wine, reading a business report in my hand, and I asked nonchalantly,

“Is the child she's carrying yours?”

He didn’t speak, just watched me in silence.

“Principessa—ah, Mr. Falcone is here too, my apologies. Principessa, this is the information you requested.”

A young Soldato placed the file on the table, making no attempt at subtlety.

The photo on top was of the girl Gabriel had brought back today.

I leaned back and lit a cigar, but Gabriel couldn't sit still.

“I'm the one who wronged you. Seeing her… it made me want a simple life. She can wait, but the child can't. I have to give them a name, so the child isn't born a bastard.”

“If you wanted a simple life, you should never have gotten involved with me.”

Gabriel took a Saint Christopher medal from his inner pocket. The chain was new.

“The medal you gave me three years ago. I searched all of Europe for a chain worthy of it.”

He pressed down on my hand, his gaze so deep it could almost devour me.

“You think a single medal is enough to make me back down? Do you even know me at all?”

Without a moment's hesitation, Gabriel dropped to one knee before me.

“I’m sorry.”

“My life is yours. Just… let her go.”

I smiled and stood up, taking a deep drag from my cigar. There was nowhere to ash it.

Gabriel resignedly raised his hands, palms up, his eyes dark.

I viciously ground out the burning cigar in his palm.

The sizzle of burning flesh was accompanied by his suppressed grunt.

“Then you might as well go die now.”