Seraphina was uncertain about what she had just done or what new life awaited her after speaking her vows before God. One thing was clear: she was now sitting in the back of a luxurious town car, still clad in her wedding gown, being driven to the residence she would henceforth call home. The city lights of Berlin blurred past the rain-streaked windows.
"Is Berlin often rainy this time of year?" Seraphina asked, breaking the heavy silence.
"Not always, Miss. Only occasionally," Albert replied, his focus on the wet road ahead.
As a bounty hunter, Seraphina had never maintained a permanent address. She drifted from city to city, country to country, sometimes crossing continents for a high-paying contract. Therefore, her question about Berlin's weather was not mere small talk; it was a tactical gathering of basic environmental intel.
Albert glanced in the rearview mirror, studying Seraphina's impassive face. "Forgive me, Miss, but don't you also live in Berlin? Why ask such a thing?" The question was indeed strange. Why would a native inquire about her own city's climate? Unless… was it possible the girl had been kept sequestered indoors, never truly experiencing the outside world?
Seraphina's eyes met his in the mirror with a calm, unnerving directness. Ah, so Albert is not just a driver, she noted. He's observant. She tilted her head slightly, the diamond studs in her ears catching the fleeting light from a streetlamp. "Did I say you were forbidden to ask questions, Albert?"
"N-no, it's not that. I merely found it curious," he stammered, feeling the sharpness of her gaze.
"Seems you dislike idle chatter. Very well, let's get to the point," Seraphina stated, her tone shifting to one of cool efficiency. "What is my husband like?"
Albert's grip tightened on the steering wheel. He had suspected this woman was different, and he feared his answer might inadvertently provoke her. Yet, Seraphina seemed adept at steering conversations to her will.
"Mr. Gabriel," Albert began, choosing his words with care, "as you know, oversees the Kingsley family business."
Seraphina raised a delicate eyebrow. "The supplier of illegal arms to the world, correct? Even the old maid in my parents' house knew that much. I want to know what he is like as a person."
Albert swallowed thickly. Why did this new wife feel so intimidating? "Mr. Gabriel," he continued, his voice dropping into a more serious register, "is a figure of immense firmness and hardness, surpassing anyone I've ever known—even Mr. Jack." He swallowed again, as if discussing his employer's cruelty might summon it. "As a mafia lord, his ruthlessness makes others tremble. Yet, his decisiveness and capability also command great respect from his peers." He stole another glance in the mirror. Seraphina's expression remained unchanged, a placid mask.
"So, your master angers easily?" she inquired, her tone laced with skeptical curiosity.
Albert adjusted his tie, which suddenly felt constricting. His eyes were cautious, weighing each syllable. "Yes, Miss. Even a buzzing fly could be reason enough for his wrath. His temper is… volatile and unpredictable. It often poisons the atmosphere."
A faint, sarcastic smile touched Seraphina's lips. She rested her chin on her hand, looking out at the passing neo-classical buildings. "How interesting," she murmured, her eyes reflecting the city's gloom. "What else triggers his anger?"
"Ah, the list is long, Miss," Albert said, his lips tightening as if recalling a catalog of fatal missteps. "But above all, do not touch anything he considers his. And you should know," his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "Mr. Gabriel was married before you entered his life."
---
In a lavishly appointed suite elsewhere in the city, Evelyn Kingsley gripped her smartphone so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her heart pounded a violent rhythm against her ribs. With a scream of pure rage, she hurled the device against the ornate silk wallpaper. It left a faint scuff mark on the expensive material.
"Damn him!" she shrieked, the sound a mix of shattered glass and raw fury. Her wide, manic eyes were fixed on the screen, which displayed a photo of her husband at his wedding ceremony with another woman.
Stumbling forward on unsteady legs, Evelyn erupted. She swept her arm across a delicate console table, sending a crystal vase, silver-framed photographs, and a Tiffany desk lamp crashing to the thick Persian rug. Tears of anger and betrayal streamed down her cheeks, her carefully applied makeup now a ruined masterpiece.
Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open. Paul, his blonde hair disheveled and face etched with confusion, stood in the doorway. "Eve! What in hell—"
"Paul!" Evelyn roared, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Look at this mess! He married her, Paul! My husband took another wife today!" Her anguish echoed off the gilded walls of the opulent room.
"Calm down! You need to breathe!"
"Calm down?! How can I be calm when my husband has another woman?! You tell me to be quiet?! Are you insane?!"
"No! You need to listen to me first!"
Slap!
The woman in the silk negligee stormed over to Paul, her hands clutching the collar of his crisp shirt with surprising strength, her eyes blazing with volatile emotion. "You fool! You incompetent! You said you would stop him from marrying that stupid girl! You said everything was handled last night! Liar!"
"Eve! Listen! I told you I would take care of the girl, and I kept my word!"
"Speak clearly!"
"Last night, I arranged an accident. I made sure of it with my own eyes!"
Paul was not lying. He was Evelyn's most zealous supporter, a loyal fanatic for whom her every desire was a command. Eliminating anyone who threatened Evelyn's happiness, including Marsha Walker, was simply part of his duty. He had orchestrated her death to cancel the wedding. Yet, inexplicably, the ceremony had proceeded.
"Don't lie to me! The proof is right here! That bitch is alive! She's my husband's lawful wife now! Not like me, just a hidden secret all this time!"
"No! I swear the girl is dead, Eve! I have no doubt!"
"Then who is that?!" she screamed, pointing at the cracked phone screen.
"I don't know!"
"Don't joke with me!"
"I'm not!" Paul pried her frantic hands from his collar. "Now listen! You saw the wedding, but did you see the most important part?"
"What are you talking about?! Their first night?!"
"No! I'm sure you missed it. Your husband left her at the altar! He didn't even look at his new wife in front of everyone! Did you see that?!"
Evelyn paused, her brow furrowing. She scrambled for her damaged phone, its screen webbed with cracks. Her mouth fell open slightly. In her initial emotional storm, she had seen the video of her husband standing beside the bride and had raged without watching further. "So… Gabriel abandoned her right after they were declared married?"
"Exactly! Did you see that humiliating scene?"
Evelyn, like everyone in the Kingsley household, had known about the arrangement Jack Kingsley had forced upon his son. That was why she had reluctantly accepted her role as Gabriel's hidden, unacknowledged wife. As Gabriel's wedding day to the nobody named Marsha approached, her terror had grown. She feared Gabriel's love for her would waver and he would eventually discard her.
Now, trembling, she watched the video again. It showed Gabriel standing next to Marsha in her beautiful gown, a sight that made her blood boil. But then the scene changed. It showed Gabriel turning and walking away without a backward glance, leaving his bride utterly alone in the middle of the ceremony. A wave of savage relief and satisfaction washed over Evelyn.
"Gabriel doesn't want his new wife," she murmured, before a satisfied, brittle laugh escaped her. She could imagine the stupid girl's humiliation and hurt.
Beside her, Paul chuckled darkly. "The foolish girl must be regretting everything now. Her dream of becoming the great lady of the Kingsley family shattered in an instant."
Evelyn's laughter grew louder, ringing with vicious pleasure through the opulent room. The dread that had haunted her for months seemed to melt away. She reveled in every second of this vindication.
"Paul, call the maid! Now!" she ordered, her voice tense with sudden purpose. Her fingers played with the ends of her hair. "I need a bath and to get dressed. I must look perfect tonight."
Paul frowned, straightening his tie. "Where are you planning to go, Evelyn?"
"Ah, I'm not going anywhere," Evelyn said, a mysterious smile curling her lips as she walked to the window, looking out at the city where her husband now resided with his legal bride. "I'll simply prepare myself here, in my room, waiting for my husband to return."
"Hmm," Paul grunted with a cynical sneer. "What if your husband chooses to spend his first night with his new wife instead?"
Evelyn threw her head back and laughed, a sharp, piercing sound. "You think Gabriel, my husband, will be by that woman's side? Ha! You saw how coldly he discarded her this afternoon." She strode closer to Paul, her gaze sharp and filled with unwavering conviction. "Paul, tonight you will witness how I satisfy the honorable Mr. Gabriel. And believe me, I will not leave the slightest room for my husband to approach another woman!" She ended her declaration with a high, triumphant laugh that seemed to scratch at the very air in the room.