October 1910, Monte Carlo
Gideon introduced Marguerite as a prosperous young widow whose late husband had built a fortune in the import-export industry. Her beauty, intelligence, and charm quickly won her many admirers, and she soon found herself overwhelmed with social invitations.
Marguerite traveled to England, Switzerland, Belgium, Italy - even New York, making each trip profitable for her and Gideon Duval.
She became a chameleon, skilled in makeup, disguises, and accents, and she owned several passports.
The challenge of outsmarting clever, successful individuals thrilled her. Each daring escapade acted like a drug, constantly driving her to seek bigger and more exciting challenges.
Additionally, Gideon set aside a portion of their profits for charitable causes, a detail Marguerite particularly cherished. This philanthropy made her feel like a modern-day Robin Hood.
"So, you're an honest criminal. I never thought such a thing was possible." She said in admiration.
"In a world of black and white, I like to think I operate in the gray." He replied. "I believe in the balance. When you take, you must also give."
After her first dinner party where Marguerite had charmed the guests playing the role Gideon had assigned to her, she stepped out onto the balcony of his seaside house to enjoy some fresh night air with a glass of champagne in hand. She was still wearing the gown she wore to the party, though one of the straps had loosened and slipped off her shoulder.
Gideon approached, noticed the birthmark now visible, and carefully adjusted the strap back into place.
"This birthmark shouldn't be seen," he said.
"I thought you liked it."
"I do like it. It has a neat and sophisticated pattern. That's exactly why it's dangerous for others to know about it. The world is full of superstitious people, my dear. Don't give them a reason to fear you for such things. Let them fear you because you're beautiful, intelligent, and because they can't outsmart you."
She didn't reply, but her gaze and smile conveyed she understood.
"You were magnificent tonight. They ate out of your hand," Gideon complimented.
"Handling people turned out to be not so difficult a task. Also this dress did wonders. You couldn't have picked a better one. It's nice to see a man who understands these things."
"I just aimed to choose an elegant piece. Elegance is the only beauty that never fades."
All the while, a certain policeman had been on her tail. His name was Edgard Perrault. He was an older man with a demeanor as grey as his hair. Their paths had crossed before, when she was a young girl living an eclectic life in Paris. Even then, her striking beauty kindled his fantasies as she dodged the city's gendarmes with her group of reckless friends. Back then, she was raw and untamed.
One day, seizing an opportunity, Edgard approached her, right there in the streets of Paris, in the broad daylight. With a swift move, he grabbed her arm, twisting it firmly behind her.
"You think you've outwitted me," he whispered, leaning closer, "but I am a patient man. I will wait, and one day, you will make a mistake."
He inhaled deeply, his nose buried in her hair.
"What are you doing?" Marguerite asked, her face twisted in disgust.
"I was just imagining a rope around that beautiful neck of yours." His fingers traced her neck lightly, sending shivers of revulsion through her.
"I know what you were imagining." Marguerite said, breaking free from his grasp and pushing him away.
He sneered, "Such a clever thief. So typical of your kind, to twist the truth to cloud the mind with unholy thoughts. But no matter. One day I will catch you, and then you will be mine and mine alone."
"Never!" Marguerite spat in his face again and fled into the crowd.
Years later, when she became the Unicorn, she couldn't resist taunting him. If you asked her today to describe her younger self, she would likely say she was too daring, too stubborn, too much of a daredevil. If she could go back in time, she'd keep her distance from Edgard, but a mischievous part of her back then enjoyed provoking him. She relished his frustration when he realized he was outmaneuvered and she had escaped once again.
She made sure he knew she was behind all the crimes. She'd leave subtle hints—a trace of her perfume, a fleeting shadow—at each crime scene. Just enough to fuel his obsession, but never enough for him to catch her.
Such was the life of Marguerite Montclaire (the name she most often used) and Gideon Duval, and three years melded into one seamless, adventurous blur. Social circles, newspapers, and police investigations spoke of a band of women robbing Europe. Yet, they never discovered that it was a single woman under the mentorship of an old rogue.
They had been successful in all their endeavors, save for one elusive diamond that continually slipped through their fingers. This particular diamond, large and pink, was set in floral petals crafted from rich rose gold. Due to its distinct appearance, it was known as La Rosa in Fiore. The diamond itself had a unique allure, its surface displaying a rare imperfection that only added to its mystique. It always seemed just beyond their grasp, moving from an English countess to a German baroness. They often joked that capturing this diamond would mark the end of their grand adventure and signal their retirement from this old game.
Then, one winter evening, for the first time ever, Gideon shared some of his own backstory. The children were asleep, and he and Marguerite were nestled under a blanket in front of the crackling fire. He was holding Marguerite's locket in his hands as he told this tale.
He explained how there was a man named Heinrich von Verderben. This was a powerful and corrupt man and he was responsible for the death of Gideon's wife and son.
"I could have killed him," Gideon admitted, "but that would have been too easy. Too merciful. He deserves to suffer, to feel the weight of his sins crushing him slowly. Revenge is best savored cold. I've spent years dismantling his empire, piece by piece, ensuring that every loss he suffers is a reminder of the lives he destroyed. One day, he will know the full extent of my wrath."
Gideon took one more lingering look at the inscription inside Marguerite's locket. For our daughter Marguerite, forever in our thoughts. With a tender touch, he closed it, the soft click echoing around them, and then he delicately clasped it around her neck.
"One day we will capture Heinrich and uncover your birth certificate. That's a promise."