MGN | Chapter 5

Since Yves banned knocking, his secretary Mikola made a point of opening the door loudly, as if to be heard. Yet, the office door handle on the 5th floor of the Riviera Hotel moved smoothly without a sound. Maybe it was because they spent a fortune on it, unlike the previous office.

The Riviera Hotel chain business, started by the Grand Duke’s family, was a ridiculous comedy of losses. Yves couldn’t tear his eyes away from the report, utterly baffled, when Mikola approached and handed him a black file. Yves finished reviewing the report he was reading before looking up.

Mikola stood still, holding out the file, only straightening up and speaking once he had Yves’ attention.

“Here’s the report you requested. Also, did you schedule any appointments with Maël Montmatier, the lawyer, aside from the consultation?”

“We’re not that close.”

“He’s waiting in the lobby, asking if he can see you today.”

It was a few days earlier than the scheduled consultation. He didn’t seem like the type to show up unannounced.

Instead of answering, Yves took the file from Mikola’s hand and opened it.

“The court observation?”

“He was flawless in court. He was aggressive, precise, and the verdict went in favor of his client. If you want to see it yourself, I can arrange for you to attend the next trial.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Yves said as he dropped his gaze to the few pages in the file.

It contained the life of Maël Montmatier, neatly documented.

Nationality: Monaco. Age: Thirty. Passed the law school entrance exam while pursuing a master’s in Paris, obtained his lawyer’s license at twenty-three, and entered the Monaco legal scene through a mentor’s recommendation during his law firm internship. A promising six-year senior associate lawyer specializing in family law, nicknamed the Knight of Cinderellas.

Yves skimmed through the contents with his gray eyes, flipping the pages, and asked,

“Is this really all his assets? No hidden money?”

“Some journalists are digging since he’s the only living family of the princess consort, but nothing.”

Is that even possible?

The roulette ball stopped on the number Maël chose, like a well-behaved child. Several people, starting with the crown prince, couldn’t stop praising the lawyer’s almost magical luck.

Could someone with such luck really have so little wealth?

If his actions were foolish compared to his luck, maybe, but Yves didn’t see Maël that way. So, there was only one answer.

“Does he dislike gambling?”

“Unless there’s a special reason, he doesn’t go near casinos or gamble. Even when he receives chips, he doesn’t exchange them but uses them in the casino’s restaurant or gives them as tips to dealers if the amount is large.”

A fastidiousness that wants nothing to do with such money. Yves raised an eyebrow and asked again.

“No connections with the dealers?”

Such unbelievable luck was worth suspecting at least once. Digging might reveal something to use as leverage.

“The crown prince already investigated through the casino. There’s nothing. However.”

Yves looked at Mikola, who hesitated for a rare moment, clutching his wrist before speaking a beat later.

“There are rumors. That the dealers are smitten with his looks and deliberately give him good cards or match the throws.”

Yves stared, but that was all. His secretary, who had never lied or joked since wearing a prosthetic on his left hand, must have really heard such rumors.

“Huh.”

Yves sighed briefly, recalling the man’s appearance.

He was like a man painted with watered-down colors. When he felt insulted, a faint hue appeared on his transparent cheeks. His large eyes and slightly drooping mouth corners added to his unique atmosphere. A rare and peculiar beauty, hard to find a resemblance.

Well, it was a face that made sense. If no one talked about it, that would be strange. A face anyone would want to gossip about at least once.

But that was it. Yves wasn’t interested in his flashy looks.

“Amusing.”

He said, flipping the paper. It was densely written, catching his eye—it was about family relations.

Younger sister, Manon Mathieu. His Korean-French mother died in a car accident. His Monegasque father, a hotel manager, died of illness.

The fact that his father’s last career included the Riviera Hotel caught his attention.

“He has a terrible relationship with his sister, who will become the princess consort. After their mother’s accidental death, there was domestic violence from their father. The father was investigated by the police several times due to neighbors’ reports but was released each time due to the children’s testimonies.”

Mikola reported the key points in time with the paper flipping.

A mundane, common tragedy passed by the man’s indifferent ears, but one word caught his attention belatedly.

“Adopted?”

“Yes. After Maël’s adoption, his younger sister, Manon Mathieu, was born to his adoptive parents.”

His face changed at the mention of his sister, yet they weren’t even blood-related. As Yves slowly raised his gaze, Mikola mechanically spoke.

“It seems he’s recently been searching for his biological parents. He was adopted from Korea and couldn’t find information about his biological parents, so he visited the Korean embassy in Paris for a DNA test.”

Is he feeling lonely because his non-blood-related sister is getting married?

Yves scratched his eyebrow and turned the page again. It listed other relationships that couldn’t be categorized under career or family.

[Gay. In a relationship with Charles Duverger, corporate advisory lawyer at Law Firm 377.]

He stared at it for a long time, more disappointed in his trusted secretary’s skills than anything else. When Yves pointed to that part with his fingertip, a response came.

“It’s ambiguous to say the relationship has completely ended, so I left it. There are noticeable changes in their relationship through recent messages, though.”

“Why did you leave that out?”

“Sorry. If needed, I can attach the messages and update it.”

“That’s not necessary.”

He had no desire to read about a homosexual love affair he’d already witnessed up close in text form.

Yves continued reading the report. The rest was trivial information not worth remembering. Then, at the very end, he found a line even Mikola, who compiled the information, might not remember.

[In addition to the pro bono activities conducted by Law Firm 377, he volunteers for free legal counseling for domestic violence victims in the Nice area.]

Yves narrowed his eyes at that. A thin chuckle escaped his lips.

A short report. Yet, even from this brief report, Maël Montmatier’s upright mindset was evident.

“Easy to understand.”

An orphan who ended up with terrible adoptive parents due to bad luck. He lived needing help, and through relentless effort, he now helps others.

That’s what it takes to be called the Knight of Cinderellas.

Turning another page, he found a few attached photos.

“Less impressive than I thought.”

Yves muttered, looking at the black-and-white photos. He closed the file and tossed it aside, and Mikola tidied it up, asking,

“Should I send him away?”

Ah, he did come.

The consultation was only a few days away. He had to see him again, and he had a rough idea of what kind of person he was.

The only thing that had been slightly refreshing was when he returned the money, claiming it was for the secret.

Even so, after that, well. It was obvious what would provoke him and how he’d react. Even what he’d say when he came up here.

‘Will he stubbornly argue?’

In the previous meeting, he provoked him by touching on secrets. Now, showing what he prepared would make the lawyer come over in anger. He didn’t seem foolish enough to miss the opportunity to spread the Grand Duke’s disgrace.

“It’s better to handle it quickly.”

Yves answered, looking at the dark green vase across the room. Three deep red Baccharole roses in full bloom under deliberately dim lighting. The vivid color hurt his eyes. As Mikola left, Yves pressed the corner of his eye.

It didn’t matter if the princess consort’s brother was just a pretty face and a dull person. Despite the talk of luck, the only reason Yves sought out Maël among the many overflowing lawyers was that he was the relative of Manon Mathieu, who would become part of the Grand Palace.

Philippe and Manon’s wedding was not far off. So, the story related to their prenuptial agreement also needed to be brought up quickly.

Yves opened a drawer and took out a brown envelope. He tossed it on the table as he leaned back on the sofa, and soon the door burst open.

The door closed with a bang after letting in only one person. After Mikola’s informal introduction, a greeting came from a distance.

“Hello, Yves.”

Having seen the poor hospitality, he could have just come and sat down. But the lawyer just stood there, upright. When Yves didn’t respond, Maël pointed out clearly.

“You didn’t tell me to sit.”

With a soft yet firm reproach, Yves finally looked up.

Sometimes, there are those rare beauties who stand out more in the dark than in natural or bright light.

Eyes and hair the color of sand, skin pale, lips a light pink. Common colors, yet their combination created an oddly unforgettable face. The lines were delicate and balanced.

The eyes were the most unusual, wide and slightly upturned, with subtly different shapes on each side. As if inherited from different countries.

“Come and sit.”

At Yves’ casual reply, Maël approached. His small nose and mouth made his large eyes seem filled with clear vitality. Almost transparent in their freshness.

A dull but visually pleasing beauty.

“I came today to decline the case.”

Just as Yves was about to acknowledge that, the lawyer said so.