Tiger traded his own backside for Mother Polly's twisted arm and three days of recovery—a victory that earned him endless praise from the Shelby bastards at the pub.
In truth, Mother Polly had only hidden away because after thrashing her son, she'd noticed the pristine row of "O"s (Outstanding) on his exam results and felt too embarrassed to show her face.
Until Monte's wedding day arrived.
As the Shelby family's representative, Mother Polly had no choice but to emerge from her room...
Click.
Tommy finally stepped out of his bedroom, only to be greeted by his brothers' worried gazes.
The bastard hadn't left his room for a full week.
"Oh, what's all this then?"
"We're not going to a bloody funeral."
His smoke-gray eyes held a hint of resignation as he fastened the single button of his suit jacket. Every movement was deliberate, unhurried, radiating an effortless elegance that seemed to flow from his very bones.
The perfectly tailored black suit hugged his lean frame like a second skin, creating clean, powerful lines—like a dark flower blooming brazenly in sunlight, beautiful and dangerous in equal measure.
"I'd rather we were going to a funeral," Tiger said coldly, his face carved from stone.
Arthur studied his younger brother carefully, catching something in Tommy's expression that made his chest tighten with understanding. He clapped Tommy's shoulder with a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Tiger's got the right idea."
"Let's pretend we're going to a funeral—saying goodbye to this damned romance once and for all."
"Absolutely perfect..." John whistled appreciatively, his grin thoroughly roguish. "Tommy, I suggest you change clothes, or Monte's going to spend his wedding night regretting every choice he's ever made."
Tommy adjusted his collar with practiced precision, that familiar authority and dignity returning to his gentle smile like armor sliding into place.
"No need. I want him to regret it."
"Too bloody right!"
Just then, Mother Polly materialized behind the brothers like an avenging angel, cigar clenched between her teeth, voice dripping with enough venom to kill a dragon:
"Let that son of a bitch scream Tommy's name when he's doing his business tonight!"
Tommy's smile froze as if struck by a Petrificus Totalus.
"M-Mom... we never actually... God's my witness... it was only emotional..."
He stammered, trying desperately to explain while his face cycled through several shades of mortification.
"Right, shut your gob."
"Time to go. Follow me."
Mother Polly clearly had no patience for his excuses, her heels clicking against the floor like gunshots as she headed for the stairs.
"Good luck, Tommy."
Tiger and the others exchanged glances at Tommy's helpless expression, barely containing their laughter as they followed Mother Polly's warpath.
As the group made their way toward the Monte estate, John quietly dropped to the back of the pack like a predator stalking prey.
Theodore appeared with his usual impassive expression, slipping a small vial into John's hand with the efficiency of a professional.
"Just three drops..."
John tossed the vial into the air and caught it smoothly, his eyes gleaming with the kind of mischief that usually ended in chaos as he gazed toward the Monte estate.
"I do love magic."
The Monte estate's manicured lawn was packed with guests, their chatter creating a symphony of forced politeness and barely concealed tensions. Monte Leal moved among them with his new bride, greeting visitors with a smile that barely concealed the darkness writhing beneath its surface like something trying to claw its way out.
This wasn't just a wedding—it was a political gathering of Surrey's elite, where every handshake was a negotiation and every smile hid a blade.
Old Monte's boisterous laughter echoed across the grounds like cannon fire until the Shelby family arrived, and suddenly the very air seemed to thicken with anticipation.
"Ha! Polly!"
"It's been far too long!"
Faced with Old Monte's enthusiastic embrace, Mother Polly remained ice-cold, extending only her hand like she was offering a snake the chance to bite.
Old Monte paused, momentarily stunned by the rejection, then quickly converted his hug into a handshake to avoid the kind of embarrassment that would haunt him for years.
Mother Polly suddenly clenched her grip like a steel vise closing around bone. Old Monte's face contorted in agony, his scream trapped in his throat like a caged bird.
His cheeks flushed crimson as he managed to rasp through the pain:
"What's wrong, Polly? Our families are life-and-death friends..."
"For my son, you bastard!"
Mother Polly leaned close to her old friend's ear, voice grinding through clenched teeth like broken glass, then released his hand and walked toward the seats reserved for the Shelby family with the dignity of a queen dismissing a peasant.
"My apologies, Mr. Monte."
Tommy offered an elegant smile that could have cut diamonds and followed Mother Polly with his brothers in tow, leaving devastation in their wake.
"This..."
Watching Tommy's retreating figure, Old Monte seemed to understand everything at once. His face cycled through anger and confusion before settling into a cold sneer that promised retribution.
Through the surrounding guests' nervous chatter, Tiger and the others learned that the bride hailed from the neighboring county—also from a criminal family, because apparently love wasn't the only thing that made the world go round.
The Monte family's business expansion made this marriage alliance the perfect choice... or so they'd thought.
"She looks familiar somehow..." John's expression turned peculiar, like he was trying to solve a puzzle missing half its pieces, though he had no intention of abandoning his plan.
Using the excuse of fetching drinks, he brushed past a server carrying a tray toward Monte with the casual grace of a pickpocket.
A breeze stirred, carrying with it the scent of impending chaos.
The server glanced around suspiciously, saw nothing amiss, and continued toward the newlyweds with his tray, completely unaware he'd just become an unwitting accomplice.
Sensing Tommy's presence nearby like a cold draft on his neck, Monte Leal couldn't bring himself to look back. His hand trembled slightly as he took the glass, his smile growing increasingly strained like a mask beginning to crack.
Fortunately, the priest was ready to begin the ceremony.
Monte drained his glass in one gulp, the liquid burning down his throat like liquid courage—or liquid doom.
His new bride beamed as she took his arm, walking toward the priest with his open Bible, completely unaware that her world was about to implode.
John settled back into his seat with a roguish, anticipatory grin that would have made the Cheshire Cat jealous. Tommy seemed to sense something dangerous in the air, glancing at his brother with growing suspicion.
"Just wait and see, Tommy."
"Monte's going to regret this for the rest of his life."
"Just like Mom said..."
Faced with his brother's meaningful raised eyebrow, cracks seemed to appear in Tommy's usually composed expression like ice beginning to shatter.
"Monte Leal."
"Do you promise to stand by each other through poverty, sickness, hardship, and suffering?"
Faced with the priest's question, Monte instinctively looked toward Tommy, but Tommy's smile had turned strangely unfamiliar—beautiful and terrible as a winter morning.
Sorry, I don't have your kind of courage.
His voice faltered as he muttered self-deprecatingly:
"I do..."
The priest nodded and turned to the bride with a benevolent smile, completely unprepared for what was about to unfold.
"Miss Peggy Manca."
"Do you promise to stand by each other through poverty, sickness, hardship, and suffering?"
The bride blinked in confusion, her eyes suddenly taking on a glassy, distant quality.
"I don't..."
At those words, the audience's murmurs died into absolute silence so complete you could have heard a pin drop in the next county. Both families stared in disbelief, their faces frozen in expressions of pure shock.
Monte's face darkened like storm clouds gathering.
From the front row of family seating, a stern-faced middle-aged man shot to his feet as if launched from a catapult, snarling through gritted teeth:
"Peggy! This is no time for jokes!"
The young priest was clearly still reeling from shock, his face pale as parchment as he stammered:
"Miss Peggy, is there anything else you'd like to say?"
"Yes..."
Faced with the priest's question, the bride seemed compelled to answer by some invisible force. Her eyes regained some brightness, but her mouth moved independently of her will like a marionette controlled by unseen strings.
"I'm a spy."
"For the Shelby family business."
After speaking, the bride clapped her hands over her mouth in horror, her eyes wide with the realization that she'd just signed her own death warrant.
The audience erupted into chaos, voices rising like a murder of crows taking flight.
An unexpected bonus?
Tiger and the others looked equally stunned, their mouths hanging open like landed fish. John stared at the bride's face, recognition dawning like a particularly unpleasant sunrise.
"Oh, bloody hell, it's her..."
"Who?" Tiger asked curiously, though he was beginning to suspect he didn't want to know.
"My ex-ex-ex..."
"God knows how many exes ago." John covered his mouth, laughing with pure delight that bordered on hysteria.
"What the hell are you talking about!"
"Peggy Manca, have you lost your bloody mind?!"
The middle-aged man was practically apoplectic, his face purple with rage as he completely ignored Old Monte's furious demands for answers.
"So..."
"That night you weren't at the engagement party—you were there for the Shelby cargo at my family's dock?"
Monte Leal's voice was tight with rage, each word dripping with betrayal and the promise of violence.
The stolen goods from that night had cost the Monte family dearly. Old Monte had been forced to hand over half their liquid assets to the Shelbys like tribute to conquering kings.
"No, no, no!" the bride answered reflexively, her voice taking on that same glassy quality. "That night I was at your brother's house."
"You actually... you actually..."
Monte Leal shook with fury, his entire body trembling like a volcano about to erupt, his eyes blazing with murderous intent as he demanded answers to questions he didn't want answered.
The bride backed away in terror, trying to explain but completely unable to control the words spilling from her lips like water from a broken dam.
"Don't misunderstand—we were just... fulfilling each other's emotional needs."
Monte Leal completely lost it.
For this damned woman, this damned marriage alliance, he'd sacrificed everything that mattered to him—and for what? Public humiliation and the destruction of his family's reputation.
John was laughing so hard he nearly passed out, tears streaming down his face. With the spirit of someone who lived to watch the world burn, he shouted across the chaos:
"Hey! How's Big Monte's technique?"
The bride's face filled with absolute horror, but her voice remained decisive and wistful, completely beyond her control:
"Not bad—he's very... accommodating..."
As Tommy sighed in exasperation, running his hand through his hair like he was trying to physically hold his sanity together, John threw his arm around Theodore's shoulders, laughing like a man possessed.
"Oh, my dear brother."
"I absolutely must buy you a drink..."
He'd actually intended to slip Monte some Veritaserum to make him confess his feelings publicly, but he hadn't expected this spectacular bonus entertainment.
Theodore shook his head, his impassive eyes showing a trace of weariness that spoke of too many schemes and too little sleep.
"For Tommy..."
The wedding had become a battlefield, and the casualties were just beginning to mount.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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