I No Longer Have Love to Offer You - Chapter 38

A month had passed since Lily had taken refuge at the trading company. During that time, she continued her embroidery work while coordinating with Killian to finalize her divorce, and just the other day, they had finally succeeded in securing victory.

Though Mirabelle had breathed a sigh of relief at the outcome, troublesome opponents never made things easy. One day, an unwelcome guest arrived unannounced.

“Mirabelle, it’s terrible!”

That day, Mirabelle had been reviewing a list sent by Ludovic in the company’s conference room when she looked up at the voice of one of the clerks.

The usually unflappable clerk’s frantic demeanor gave her a bad feeling.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, the Count—Lily’s ex-husband has suddenly shown up.”

“Wha—?!”

Though the divorce had been finalized, for Lily’s safety, she had been staying inside the dormitory to avoid going out. Killian had been the one primarily handling communications with her ex-husband, and Lily had only met him once to sign the divorce papers.

All the proceedings had been handled at Killian’s office, and they had taken every precaution to ensure Lily’s whereabouts remained unknown.

(How did he find out about this place?)

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

The employees of this shop, located on the capital’s main thoroughfare, were mostly from noble families though many were lower-ranking nobles who wouldn’t dare stand up to a Count.

Aside from Albert, Mirabelle who had regained her status as a Countess after her own divorce was the highest-ranking in terms of lineage. Still, facing an older male head of a household put her at a disadvantage.

“Inform Albert as well.”

Unfortunately, Albert was currently in the company president’s office, discussing procurement matters. That was likely why the clerk had come to Mirabelle for help before notifying him.

Besides, Lily’s case was Mirabelle’s responsibility.

(I’ve heard he has a violent streak. It’d be troublesome if he caused a scene.)

With that thought, she descended the stairs and spotted the man pushing past the guards to make his way inside.

(The guards can’t risk injuring him either, I suppose.)

The man’s once-neat hair was disheveled, and his disheveled clothing gave off an unkempt air. His eyes were bloodshot, and a faint stubble shadowed his jaw.

“You! You’re the one who put Lily up to this, aren’t you?!”

The man jabbed a finger at Mirabelle as he spat the words venomously.

“Sir, whatever is the matter? This is causing a disturbance for our other guests. Might I escort you to the reception room first?”

To keep him from escalating further, Mirabelle kept her voice as calm as possible. The shop was relatively empty at the moment, but if this continued, other customers might be affected. And incidents like this could tarnish the company’s reputation.

“You think I don’t know anything?!”

The man glared at Mirabelle, his voice rising.

“You’re just a divorced castoff trying to drag others down with you! Using Lily to squeeze money out of me just how much did you profit from this, huh?!”

He was deliberately trying to demean her or perhaps he was simply that crass. Either way, Mirabelle felt her heart clench unpleasantly.

“Wasn’t the divorce entirely your own doing?”

She knew she shouldn’t retaliate. In his current state, she could easily sue him for defamation against a Countess.

But she couldn’t let the “divorced castoff” remark slide. Divorce was a matter between both parties and in noble society, it was usually the husband’s fault while the wife suffered in silence. In Mirabelle’s case, Ricardo had been the problem.

(And why should I be called a castoff?)

Men were never labeled as “castoffs” after divorce. The thought that a woman’s worth was measured only by her chastity and obedience to men filled her with indignation.

Besides, in Lily’s case, the Count was overwhelmingly at fault.

“What did you say?!”

Mirabelle’s words must have stoked the Count’s fury. Before she could react, she saw his fist swinging toward her.

She was going to be hit!

The moment she squeezed her eyes shut, her body was yanked backward colliding with something warm and solid.

Wham! A harsh impact rang out, but she felt no pain.

“…Huh?”

Exhaling the breath she’d been holding, Mirabelle cautiously opened her eyes.

“Acting like a brat at your age is unbecoming, Count.”

Looking up, she saw Albert’s face wearing a mocking smirk looming above her.

(Why is Albert’s face at this angle?)

Shifting her gaze, she realized Albert’s hand had caught the Count’s fist mid-swing. The Count struggled to wrench his arm free, but Albert’s grip was unyielding.

“This is a place for shopping, not brawling. Our customers come here to admire beautiful things not the likes of you.”

Singing the words, Albert twisted the Count’s wrist and shoved him toward the nearby guards.

“Take him upstairs.”

After issuing the order, Albert finally looked down at Mirabelle, still cradled in his arms.

“You scared the life out of me. Please, rein in the recklessness a little.”

He pulled her into a tight embrace.

(So warm…)

The tension drained from Mirabelle’s body as she melted into Albert’s warmth. At the same time, she realized she was completely enveloped in his arms.

(That warm, solid thing I bumped into earlier—it was Albert’s chest!)

Blood rushed to her cheeks at the unexpected situation. Her face must have been bright red.

“Leave the Count to me.”

“But this is my case.”

Flustered by Albert’s voice so close to her ear, Mirabelle managed a reply.

“Ultimately, handling the tough stuff is the company president’s job. Know when to delegate. Right tool for the right job.”

She had never paid much attention to it before, but Albert’s deep voice sent her pulse racing.

(It’s just the lingering shock of being saved from the Count.)

Forcing herself to believe that, Mirabelle still half-dazed; murmured her agreement.