No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 118

I’d decided to meet Penelope while staying at the Duke’s mansion last night.

Ricardo, who had so easily played along with the Duchess’s expectations, drew a clear line the moment his birth mother was mentioned.

It was obvious he felt indebted to the Duchess.

Even the way he clumsily acted like a sulky teenager, it wasn’t really his own choice. It was the kind of illegitimate son the Duchess wanted him to be.

Someone who wouldn’t be intimidated by the Duke, yet wouldn’t cross the line into arrogance. A man grown in body, but not yet matured inside. That was the version of Ricardo the Duchess had crafted for herself.

If the woman she had introduced him to hadn’t been me, Ricardo probably wouldn’t have reacted so strongly, even when his mother was brought up.

He would’ve let the Duchess handle it—whether it meant imprisonment or exile—and done so in a way that preserved her authority.

But because of me, he’d chosen the path of a fanatic.

It might have been easier if he had just become the kind of ordinary zealot you find anywhere. But under the Queen’s influence, he became something even stranger—someone who believed that it wasn’t unnatural for faith and desire to coexist.

Maybe I should’ve been thankful that his desire manifested as wanting to keep me near, nothing more.

If it hadn’t been for the Queen, Ricardo would’ve convinced himself that even if I remarried, it wouldn’t challenge his beliefs.

He had once boldly declared he’d settle for being my lover. But now, he backed away just because he feared his mother might hurt me.

Of course, when Ricardo said “lover,” all he meant was a mutually accepted arrangement to keep each other to ourselves—on the surface, nothing more than a respectable companionship.

His obsession with my bed wasn’t about lust. It was an immature form of possessiveness—since he had no intention of lying there himself, he believed no other man should, either.

He wanted to keep me all to himself. But if I ever showed signs of feeling the same, he’d claim I wasn’t the Lia he knew—and run.

I wished Margaret’s honeymoon would end soon.

The Queen said she wouldn’t let me go just yet, but once she experienced Margaret for herself, she’d realize how lacking I’d been as a lady-in-waiting.

Then, I’d leave for Nathan.

Neither the Queen, who rattled my sense of self, nor Ricardo, who made me want to change, would be there. In Nathan, I could finally live the quiet life I originally planned.

And Penelope—she was a necessary piece in wrapping things up before I left.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Ricardo saw me as the symbol of his faith. So I wanted to give him something in return—a small gesture of thanks.

Naturally, Ricardo would hate it if he found out. That was precisely why I was doing it.

He despised being repaid for his devotion. Which made this the perfect opportunity—to show gratitude my way and create distance between us at the same time.

It would serve both purposes.

For the first time ever, I was the one initiating a gesture of gratitude toward someone else. My heart actually beat a little faster.

After a lifetime of keeping everything bottled up, I was carefully poking a hole in the pressure—letting a tiny bit of air escape. It might look laughable to others, but to me, it was a bold break from everything I’d known.

Damn Ricardo Bastian. I even cursed—at least in my head—for the first time in my life.

What the hell did you do to me?

Once I carried out this one last rebellion, I’d leave for Nathan without looking back.

I knew I’d regret not doing it, so I decided to go through with it. And yet, I already regretted it before it even happened.

I wished Penelope wouldn’t come.

Since her debut as a mentor for debutantes, she’d been twice as busy. I’d told her to come by tomorrow morning at the latest if today wasn’t possible, but I doubted she could rearrange her schedule easily.

I was still mulling over what I’d do next if my leave ended and I had to return to the palace, when I suddenly heard someone running down the hallway.

“Miss! I brought her! I brought Madam Penelope!”

It was the young maid I’d sent out just a few hours ago. She didn’t even bother knocking—she threw the door wide open and practically dragged Penelope in by the hand.

“Ma’am?”

Penelope, clearly confused about what was going on, still managed to flash me a bright smile the moment our eyes met.

“Pepe.”

“Oh my goodness, ma’am! What happened to you? You’re only half the person you were! You looked so well-fed when you were at the palace. I heard that Ricky’s been following you around. It has to be because of him, right? You’re far too patient. You let him cling to you even when he’s being a total pain!”

I hadn’t even greeted her properly—just said her name—and yet I was already being bombarded with twice the usual amount of scolding.

“You’ve gotten so thin, and no one around here thought to take care of you? You’re the mistress of the estate now! How could they just stand by and do nothing?”

She paused for a breath, then carried on with the same intensity, like she hadn’t stopped at all.

“Pepe, have some tea before you talk my ear off. I’m fine. I just looked a bit pale because I got carriage sick on the way.”

“Carriage sick? Ma’am, you’ve been riding in carriages since you were born! And now, suddenly, motion sickness? That’s ridiculous. If it is real, then it’s Ricky’s fault again. That pretty face of his can’t cover up whatever terrible thing he’s done this time!”

Skipping the questions entirely, Penelope grabbed a teacup, still fuming with certainty.

Meanwhile, I noticed the young maid—who’d run so eagerly to fetch Penelope—was now standing frozen near the wall, clearly overwhelmed.

She hadn’t even closed the door behind her, and without being told to leave, she didn’t dare go. She’d pressed herself up against the wall, and now I understood why she worked in the garden, not inside the house.

“Go ahead.”

The moment I gave permission, the young maid bolted out the still-open door. I got up and closed it myself. No wonder she was a garden maid—she clearly lacked any finesse.

If it had been Sarah, she would’ve stood her ground, waited until the guest had left, and then made sure to claim her reward.

“You’re really busy, aren’t you? I won’t take much of your time. I just wanted to visit the house where Sir Ricardo used to live. And honestly, you were the only one I could think of, Pepe.”

Penelope, who had been ready to object before I even finished speaking, froze in place once I got the words out.

“I know it’s not a great explanation. Whatever reason I give, it’ll still sound like some creepy stalking.”

“It’s not like that at all, miss.”

Penelope’s fingers twitched around the teacup she was holding, like someone caught in a nightmare, struggling to wake up.

“Ricky wouldn’t think so either. Honestly, if he found out you were this interested in his past, he’d probably faint from sheer joy.”

Maybe that would be true—if it were about anything else. But this was about his birth mother.

I’d chosen Penelope because she had shared Ricardo’s childhood. I expected she’d understand my curiosity about his mother and tread carefully.

But I’d been wrong. Either Penelope didn’t know as much about his childhood as I’d assumed, or their so-called childhood friendship wasn’t as deep as I thought.

In truth, it was probably neither. Ricardo, in those days, must have kept his real feelings hidden—even from someone close like her.

“That would only make things more complicated, so… would you mind keeping it from Sir Ricardo?”

I offered a reason Penelope could accept—because if Ricardo found out, he’d stop me before I could even start.

“And I suppose you’re not really ‘ma’am’ anymore?”

“Oh—right. I should say ‘miss,’ but ‘ma’am’ just slips out. Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. I’d like to go as soon as possible, if we can. I’m free anytime, so I’ll adjust to your schedule. What works for you?”

“If it’s your request, I’m happy to go today, even. But that neighborhood isn’t exactly safe, so it’d be better to go while there’s daylight. How about noon tomorrow?”

Penelope was overwhelmingly busy. Even at the palace, I’d heard that she was drowning in requests—enough work for two people, if not more.

That she’d push all that aside just for me didn’t feel entirely welcome.

Who was I to her, really? I was nothing. My contribution to her success was minimal, if it even existed at all.

I’d only helped with the first step, and then stepped back like my job was done. It felt dishonest, in a different way than it did with Ricardo. Like I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t.

Penelope didn’t know the real me. Margaret didn’t either.

No matter how I looked at it, the answer was still Nathan.

It was a connection made unintentionally, and once distance set in, the relationship would naturally fade—until I became just a memory, someone she’d occasionally recall in a haze of nostalgia.

“It’s a selfish request, so thank you for accepting. You’ll be tired from the trip, so why don’t you stay the night?”

I almost rang the bell on the table but stopped myself. I wasn’t even sure anyone would come. The Rosette estate was in chaos.

Joanna, who had been running the house, had been thrown out overnight, and I—who had suddenly appeared as the new mistress—would be gone again in a week.

When Ricardo was around, people moved faster, weighed down by the presence of the young lord of House Bastian. But earlier today, when I stepped out of the carriage alone, no one had come to greet me.

“You can stay in the room next to mine. I’ll show you the way.”

That had been Ayla’s room. She’d only just left it a few days ago, so it didn’t need tidying.

At least this way, I wouldn’t have to wander the halls looking for a maid who probably wouldn’t come anyway. Not a bad alternative.

“Oh—you’ll need something to wear.”

“I can send the maid who came to fetch me earlier. She seems to know where my house is.”

She was clearly trying to make things easier for me.

Penelope had spent time in noble homes and even the palace—she must have understood the situation the moment I offered to show her the room myself instead of calling a servant.

“Now that I think about it, this is my first time at the Rosette estate. Since I’m here, would it be okay if I walked through the garden?”

I was already burdening a guest with too much. I wanted to refuse, but the thought of searching for the girl hiding in the garden made me dizzy.

And I couldn’t exactly storm around the grounds as if I were really in charge, hunting for a runaway maid.

“I’m sorry.”

“If I had the power, I’d forbid you from ever saying that again,” Penelope said, placing her hands on her hips with a slightly angry look. “You’ve done nothing wrong, and even if you had, you shouldn’t be apologizing so easily to someone like me.”

Afraid I’d apologize again, Penelope quickly turned and walked away like she was escaping.

Left alone, I stared at the two empty teacups on the table.

Once I got to Nathan, I wondered if I might miss moments like this.

Maybe I had no right to miss them. After all, they were built on lies—affection given to a version of me that didn’t exist.

Thinking of Penelope led me to think of Margaret, and naturally, the thought landed on Ricardo.

Would Ricardo miss me?

If he hadn’t met his birth mother—yes, maybe. But once tomorrow came and my plan was carried out, I was sure whatever feelings he had left would vanish. He’d never want to see me again.

I hoped Ricardo would be happy.

I hoped he would stop placing his hopes in a hollow illusion like me and instead find happiness—ordinary happiness, like any other person.

This wasn’t something that could be fixed just by disappearing from his life.

Ricardo had to accept that I was neither his believer nor his savior.

This plan would be the first step toward that. I had to see it through.

With that resolution, I closed my tired eyes for a moment.

No one ever loved me.

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