No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 112

After the divorce trial ended, Elodie moved to the old quarter of the capital.

That bit of news had been Martha’s final favor—passed on through Sir Juan and Nathan.

Since I was still at the Queen’s Palace, I hadn’t been able to see them off myself, so Ricardo had taken on the role of messenger.

He’d reported, with a sulky expression, that Justin had done his best to act mature but had still ended up crying, and that Martha had sobbed openly, asking Ricardo to tell me how sorry she was.

In any case, their farewell seemed to give Ricardo a new sense of perspective.

Fleeing to Nathan might mean escaping the Queen’s reach, but a loyal former nanny and a young, capable man like Nathan could easily become new obstacles.

Perhaps because of that, Ricardo’s obsession with my bed had grown—but his insistence on dragging me off to Nathan had decreased.

Martha sent letters regularly. And although I felt a little guilty ignoring her newfound affection for Cecilia, I usually just skimmed them and tossed them aside.

Sir Juan’s reports were far more useful anyway. Just as Ricardo had promised, he was excellent at his job.

Since his predecessor had stepped down without resistance, Sir Juan had quickly taken over, dealing first with the urgent issues and then gradually expanding his influence to cover even the smallest disputes among the estate’s residents.

Given everything I’d received from them, I could safely say I’d repaid the favor in full—and more.

I had no plans to go to Nathan anytime soon, so I decided not to concern myself with it further.

Ricardo would be keeping a close eye on things with both eyes wide open, which gave me room to breathe.

As I caught myself thinking about him again, I sighed softly.

This happened all the time. And each time, the self-reflection lasted only a moment.

Logic had been warning me for a while now—it was time to put some distance between myself and Ricardo.

There was no excuse for dumping my family affairs onto him, especially leaving him with Count Berger.

“Lady Cecilia, this is the address, but… I’m not entirely sure we’ve got the right place. Houses in the old quarter were built all over the place. The address alone isn’t always enough.”

I’d spent the entire carriage ride thinking about Ricardo. It was only when the carriage finally stopped that reality knocked, forcing me to push those thoughts aside.

The guard looked sheepish—probably because he hadn’t yet fulfilled the task I’d assigned him.

When I reached for the carriage door, he quickly stepped in front of me.

“Please allow me to check first. This area isn’t safe for someone like you to appear openly, Lady Cecilia.”

I’d only ever seen him being bossed around by Ricardo, so I’d underestimated him—thought he was all ambition, no skill. But here he was, showing real professionalism.

“Then please. Just check if Miss Elodie is here. She might be using a different name, so let her know Cecilia Rosette has come to see her.”

He gave me an overly confident nod and knocked on one of the crooked doors.

In the old quarter, homes had been expanded and rebuilt without any real plan, making it impossible to tell which door belonged to which unit.

From the carriage, I watched him get a cold rejection at the first door.
The second wasn’t opened at all.
At the third, someone actually cursed at him to get lost.

His shoulders slumped as he climbed a precarious staircase. The wood looked unstable enough to send someone tumbling to their death.

Thankfully—for him and for me—the fourth door creaked open just a little.

The woman inside actually listened to what he had to say, then pointed a finger toward the upper floor.

I stepped out of the carriage and made for the third floor ahead of him.

The stairs had no railing and were uneven in height, an accident waiting to happen. One wrong step and I could’ve fallen straight into the afterlife.

To think Elodie was living in a place like this.
I didn’t know much about her life before she met Edgar, but the Elodie I remembered had always seemed suited for refined spaces—elegant homes with tasteful interiors.

“Lady Cecilia—wait! Please, let me go first!”

I ignored the guard’s frantic shout behind me and knocked on the door.

Unlike the crowded lower floors, this top level seemed to have been renovated into a private unit.

Seeing that, I was suddenly certain Elodie lived here.
Even if it cost her more, she wouldn’t have been willing to sacrifice space or privacy.

“Who is it?”

A voice from inside—one I didn’t recognize.

“I’m here to see Miss Elodie.”

“Sigh… I told everyone—flowers and fan mail should go to the theater. Haven’t you heard what happened to the last so-called fan who came to the house? I reported him for trespassing, and he got dragged off. If you don’t want the same treatment, just leave.”

So Elodie had dealt with overly persistent fans before—ones who had managed to find her address and showed up uninvited.

If she had officially transferred her old property to me and sold it properly, she wouldn’t have needed to find a place in the old quarter. But she’d left without giving me a chance to offer compensation.

The trial hadn’t even ended before she’d said her piece and vanished.

“My name is Cecilia Rosette. Please, just ask her if she’ll see me. If she says no, I’ll leave immediately.”

The woman inside—likely a maid—gasped at the name Rosette.

It hadn’t caused a nationwide stir, but news of the trial had rippled through the capital.
Even someone working as a maid in the old quarter must have heard at least something.

Back when she was playing house with Edgar, Elodie hadn’t seemed to have a maid of her own.
Hiring one now that she was on her own revealed another side of her.

Choosing to live in a larger home here—where space was usually split among multiple tenants—meant something too.

This might’ve been considered the best living space in this part of town, but the soundproofing was terrible.

I could clearly hear the maid’s hurried footsteps fading as she went to deliver the message.

“Acting on your own is dangerous, Lady Cecilia.”

The guard, who had been wisely silent while I spoke with the maid, could no longer hold his tongue. He launched into a lecture about the dangers of the old quarter.

“You might not know this, Lady Cecilia, but bodies show up here daily—and people act like it’s perfectly normal. If you even get a scratch out here, Lord Ricardo won’t let me live. And that would be the end of my career before it’s even begun.”

He talked too much. The way he spoke—formal but filled with anxious overexplaining—reminded me of Sarah.

In the end, what he meant was: Don’t get hurt, because I don’t want to suffer for it.

I let his words wash over me, tuning him out, hoping that the approaching footsteps belonged to someone else.

The door opened, and I saw the crown of someone’s head.

“My lady…”

Elodie bowed so low she was nearly kneeling. It seemed she couldn’t even lift her head.

“You can just call me Lady Cecilia. I’m no longer Countess Linton. Remember?”

I lowered my tone purposefully. Referring to her time as Edgar’s mistress would only bring unnecessary tension.

From the way Elodie held herself, it seemed she wanted to apologize—and maintaining a calm, collected demeanor might help ease the guilt she carried.

“Lady Cecilia…”

“You don’t look as bad as I expected.”

I raised my hand to stop the guard from following me in.

“Wait outside.”

“But—”

“Elodie isn’t someone who could hurt me. And even if something did happen, I wouldn’t blame you. I’ll make sure Lord Ricardo hears that directly. So don’t worry.”

The guard glanced warily into the home, his eyes sharp with suspicion.
He wasn’t even trying to hide the baseless assumption that Elodie was hiding a weapon stash behind the door.

“There are more guards in the royal palace than you could count. I don’t even know your name, and I don’t care to. But if Lord Ricardo ever comes looking, I’ll make sure the rumor mill helps you disappear—so you can get away before he finds you.”

He wasn’t anything special—just a man with slightly more ambition than most.
Normally, I’d offer him a reason he could accept and send him away tactfully.
But I was on a tight schedule with only a week off, and I needed to save every minute.

The bluntness seemed to rattle him. His face showed every flicker of emotion as he hesitated, then turned and left.

I could almost hear his unspoken thoughts: Even if you scream, I won’t come in.
And honestly, that was fine.

“Will you be alright?” Elodie asked softly as I stepped inside.

I shrugged. “He’s just a guard. More afraid of Lord Ricardo than me, and more eager to impress Her Majesty than to do his actual job.”

So, if I didn’t come first or second in his priorities, I had no reason to treat him any differently.

“How have you been?”

“You seem well, Lady Cecilia.”

“You too, Elodie. Maybe because you’ve finally dropped the poor, humble act that didn’t suit you.”

She looked surprised, then gave a slightly awkward smile.

“Please, have a seat. Paula will bring tea shortly.”

The maid—whom I’d only heard before—appeared with a tray holding two delicate teacups.

They were clearly expensive.

“I had some savings. Even before I met Count Linton, I wasn’t struggling to get by.”

“You were the singer every theater wanted. Edgar just assumed anyone who wasn’t a noble must be poor. That’s probably why you had to downplay your lifestyle to match his.”

I glanced around the room. Unlike her previous home, which had been warm and tastefully decorated, this one leaned more toward indulgence—almost like she was making up for lost time.

We had nearly finished our first cups of tea when Elodie finally spoke, hesitantly.

“I don’t know why you came to see me. At first, I thought you were here to punish me. But now… I’m not sure. I’m confused.”

“The court ruled that Edgar had to compensate both me and you.”

“…Me too?”

“We both suffered because of him. I have status and the Queen’s favor, so my damage was mostly financial. But you didn’t have that. If we’re being honest, the compensation you deserve is probably even greater than mine. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out that way.”

Elodie remained quiet, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her teacup.
I studied her. She looked better than when I’d last seen her in court.

Her voice had recovered, and more importantly, the despair that had once clung to her face was gone.

“Lady Cecilia… I don’t want anything to do with Count Linton anymore. If I try to claim compensation, my name will be all over the place again. Things only just calmed down after I moved here. One of the theaters invited me back to sing, but it wasn’t because of my voice. They just wanted to sell tickets while the gossip was still fresh. I turned them down.”

I drained the rest of my tea in one go. I wasn’t impatient—but I could tell Elodie was still emotionally stirred by my visit, no matter how composed she appeared.

“Elodie, your old house is still empty.”

I pulled out the paperwork I’d brought with me. It was a property transfer contract.

“Just sign here, and it’s yours. Live in it, or sell it if you’d rather never see it again.”

“My lady…”

“I intended to give it to you from the start. Since you want no further ties to Edgar, I won’t make any other offers.”

Elodie stared at the document, dazed. I waited.

She was pragmatic—maybe even materialistic—but not selfish to the point of pretending nothing had happened.

Even when she believed she truly loved Edgar, she hadn’t been able to hide her guilt toward me.

“What can I do for you in return?”

“I’m not here to force anything on you.”

Elodie buried her face in her hands. The truth she’d been hiding finally cracked and spilled out in fragments.

“I’ll never forget that Count Linton killed my child. I’ve tried to move on, but I can’t. And honestly, even seeing you right now… it hurts. You act like you’re okay, and it makes me feel like I’m the only one who’s still broken. I hate the world for that.”

I called out to the maid, who was still standing at a polite distance, and asked her to refill the tea.

This conversation was going to take time—and we’d need something to drink as it unfolded.

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