I No Longer Have Love to Offer You - Chapter 7

“Mirabelle, that’s no way to speak, is it?”

Ricardo said with a hint of panic in his voice.

“Our white marriage was something we both agreed upon.”

At his continued words, Mirabelle felt her smile twist as she lowered her face.

(How dare you lie like that? It was an ambush and you know it.)

“Either way, it’s all in the past now, isn’t it? Does it have anything to do with Marietta living here from now on?”

Unable to bear having her emotions stirred up any further by Ricardo’s words, Mirabelle cut the conversation short. When she glared at him half-heartedly, Ricardo looked as if he’d been caught off guard.

“Mirabel?”

His expression seemed on the verge of asking why she would say such things, and Mirabelle found it increasingly difficult to suppress her rising irritation.

(I just want to end this farce as quickly as possible.)

“At any rate, Marietta can stay here without worrying about me.”

With that, Mirabelle stood up smoothly.

“You two must have a lot to catch up on, so I’ll excuse myself.”

Of course, it was sarcastic.

(You’ve been meeting secretly behind my back countless times, so what’s left to catch up on now?)

Even if their meetings had been about Marietta’s divorce and there was nothing improper about them, keeping it a secret from Mirabelle, his wife was hardly praiseworthy behavior.

Did they even understand that?

(They probably don’t. Both of them are so unconsciously self-centered.)

They likely assumed that since they didn’t see it as a problem, Mirabelle shouldn’t either.

(I’m sick and tired of being jerked around.)

Just as Mirabelle was about to leave the parlor, Marietta spoke up.

“About the divorce procedures, Ricardo helped me with them many times without telling you, Mirabelle. I was worried about whether it was okay to stay with Ricardo afterward, but if it was a white marriage you both agreed on, then I guess there was no need to hesitate.”

“Marietta!”

Her words gouged deeper into Mirabelle’s heart.

Even if there had been no ill intent, hearing it stated so plainly that they had met behind her back was unbearable. And unlike the oblivious Marietta, Ricardo, who knew full well their marriage had not been mutual, called her name in an attempt to stop her, which only filled Mirabelle with disgust.

“That’s right. You should feel free to get along with Ricardo as much as you like.”

With only that, Mirabelle finally turned her back on them.

“Mirabelle! About the unfinished parts of the divorce proceedings, I’ll contact the Lumière family later!”

For some reason, Ricardo spoke hurriedly, as if flustered.

(The divorce papers are already filed. The unfinished part must be the alimony.)

Not that Ricardo had ever admitted any wrongdoing. In his mind, the ambush of a white marriage had been to save Mirabel, and meeting Marietta in secret wasn’t infidelity, so it wasn’t a problem.

So, to Ricardo, what he was paying was merely a sum to ensure Mirabelle wouldn’t struggle financially for a while. Even that was just to ease his own guilt or perhaps to play the role of the kind man for Marietta’s sake.

(I don’t want a single cent from you anymore.)

That’s what she thought.

But Mirabelle didn’t mention it.

Instead, she simply said one last thing.

“Goodbye.”

With that, she left the parlor without looking back.