No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 126

Leaving Ricardo behind and riding alone in the carriage felt good—at first.
But I couldn’t stop listening for the sound of hooves following behind.

This wasn’t how I should be spending my time. I should’ve been planning how to pressure Edgar harder, how to make him cough up the money.
That’s what I told myself… but I kept glancing at the curtain as if expecting to see someone outside.

And just like that, my thoughts began to drift with my eyes.

Instead of focusing on how to get more out of Edgar, I found myself wondering—how likely is it that Ricardo’s devotion will actually last?

It was a pointless question.

No one knew better than I did how fleeting human emotions were.

Especially love.

The more it burns, the faster it turns to ash—beautiful and consuming, but ultimately hollow.

Maybe that’s why Ricardo kept insisting his feelings weren’t love. He called it devotion, faith—something pure and unshakable.

But I didn’t want Ricardo wrapped in some imitation of faith.

What a greedy person I am.

I don’t even believe in love, yet here I am—refusing a gift just because it’s not “real” enough. Because it doesn’t come wrapped the way I want.

“What do I even want from him?”

I asked myself aloud.

I hoped the question would bring clarity, but the silence that followed was empty.

Maybe because this wasn’t a question with just one logical answer.
Maybe because this wasn’t something the mind could solve.

I needed to ask my heart.

But I was afraid.

No one had ever loved me. I wasn’t born into joy or welcomed with blessings like other children. My life had always felt like a burden—a curse that wore everyone around me down.

In the end, I pushed my own mother into a hellish life. And that still wasn’t enough. She ended her life with her own hands, and it was my fault.

How could I ask anyone to love me after that?

So I killed the part of me that longed for love.
Eventually, I even killed the part of me that remembered wanting it.

And after that… living became easier.

I stopped expecting anything.
When people came near, I assumed they wanted something—and I was usually right.

Ricardo was the only exception.

Had there ever been someone like him? Someone who didn’t give up, no matter how many times I pushed him away?

Half of the reason I started to want him… was because of him.
If he hadn’t been so stubborn, so devoted—if he hadn’t hidden his love behind the mask of faith—I probably would’ve paid my debt to him and walked away.

But I fell for it. And by the time I saw the truth, I didn’t want to let go.

“Ugh… I hate this.”

I hated that I had tossed Margaret aside so coldly—yet here I was, hesitating over Ricardo.

I leaned my head against the window, hoping the cool glass would calm the heat building in my head.

Thinking about it alone wouldn’t help.

In the end, this all came down to one thing—how Ricardo would finish his assignment.

If he insisted again that his feelings were nothing but “faith,” what could I do?

I had no intention of becoming anyone’s living goddess.
If that’s what he needed, then I’d leave him behind and go to Nathan.

Ricardo had talked so casually about me becoming a mistress, but after seeing the Duchess of Bastian in person, I understood—

She was not someone who would let Ricardo go so easily.

And if Ricardo abandoned everything—if he used his so-called “faith” as an excuse to come chasing after me—then I’d have to turn him away.

I’d say it directly, even cruelly:

“Why should I take care of a man who has nothing to offer? Why should I feed and clothe him?”

I had barely finished sorting through my thoughts when the carriage, which had been running smoothly, came to a sudden stop.

“Oh—my lady, are you alright? Someone jumped out into the road!”

The quiet servant seated next to the coachman explained what had happened.

“I’m fine. Go check on whoever it was. If they’re not hurt, let them go.”

The words came out naturally, almost regally.

There was no longer any awkwardness in calling myself Cecilia. That uneasy feeling, the one that only I noticed before, had long since become part of the past.

Because I really was Cecilia now.

Even if I had excuses—saying it felt like wearing someone else’s clothes and showing off—I couldn’t escape it anymore.

“My lady…”

“If they need medical care, give them whatever they ask for.”

“It’s not that… I got a closer look, and it seems the one who stepped out in front of the carriage is… Lady Isla.”

Isla?

A name I had nearly forgotten since the last time I spoke with Josephine.

To be honest, I hadn’t thought of her at all since then—not even in passing.

“Sister! Sister!”

A hand knocked against the carriage door. I looked out—and yes, that face was unmistakably Isla’s.

I opened the door.

“It’s been a while, Isla.”

“Wow. Must be nice—riding around like royalty. Is young master Bastian your bodyguard now or something?”

She didn’t try to climb into the carriage, and I didn’t ask her to.

“Whatever. I’m not here to hear about your luxurious life. You and I—we’re not exactly on speaking terms, so I’ll keep it short.”

The words rang familiar.

Where had I heard them before?

Right. I hadn’t heard them. I had said them—to Edgar, back at the Linton estate.

And now, Isla was throwing my own words right back at me.

“You’ve done enough damage. Just be satisfied with that.”
Isla’s voice was steady, each word clearly spoken.
“Do you have any idea how much trouble Count Linton is in because of you? Of course you do. And even knowing that, you still made things worse. You dragged in that lowly actress just to humiliate him. I’m warning you—stay away from the Count. He’s not someone you can treat however you like.”

With that, Isla spun on her heel and walked off.

“Isla… Have you been staying at the manor?”
I asked the question to her back as she walked away.

She hesitated for a moment but didn’t turn around. Instead, she continued down the side path without another word.

I gave the signal to resume the carriage. Everything—inside and out—was quiet. Calm.

Whether Isla had secretly harbored feelings for Edgar or not… I couldn’t have cared less.

It was just one of those things that made you go, So that’s why she kept siding with him.

I wondered briefly—was Isla the reason Edgar had stopped using the bedroom and started sleeping in the study?

Being cold to the ex-wife’s sister had done nothing good for his reputation.
Maybe he didn’t want it to fall any lower, so he couldn’t bring himself to kick Isla out.
And he couldn’t let her sleep in a room he’d wrecked either… so he gave up the bedroom instead.

What surprised me more was that Josephine had let it happen.

She loved Isla more than anything in the world. No way she’d let her daughter become a second wife—especially not to her stepdaughter’s ex-husband.

And judging from the way Edgar kept whining about how he still loved me, it didn’t seem like he thought of Isla that way either.

Honestly… it was all a bit much.
Even if Cecilia had wished them misery, this felt like overkill.

Through the gap in the curtains—pushed aside earlier because of Isla—I saw the Rosette estate come into view.

As the carriage slowed, I noticed Ricardo riding alongside, keeping perfect pace on horseback.

So much for clearing my head with thoughts of Isla.
It hadn’t taken long for Ricardo to creep back in, filling up my mind again.

I sighed.

And just as the carriage rolled to a stop, Ricardo beat the coachman to the door and opened it himself, reaching out a hand to me.

I stared at him, unsure how to feel.

“You can do this all night, Lia. I won’t get tired.”

“Maybe you should try getting tired sometimes.”

“If I do, one day you’ll toss me aside. I can’t afford to enjoy luxuries like that.”

“You’re a noble. If anyone’s entitled to a little luxury, it’s you.”

Ricardo, apparently done being patient, lifted me gently out of the carriage.

“I’m fine. I just didn’t want you catching a cold.”

A convenient excuse.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the little maid Martha had assigned to watch over me. She quickly ducked out of sight.

Probably off to fetch Justin.

Sure enough, moments later, Justin came running up.

“My lady, you’re back. I thought we’d finally gotten rid of that squatter, but here you are bringing him home again.”

“I didn’t bring him.”

“And he never left,” Ricardo muttered, clearly sulking.

I ignored him and followed Justin inside.

Martha stood by the entryway and took my coat. She looked over at Ricardo and echoed Justin’s exact words:

“He never left.”

“But I saw him with my own eyes. He stormed out of here. I may be old, but my vision still works just fine. I remember praying to the Lord, grateful I wouldn’t have to watch you raise him like one of your houseplants. And now—goodness, I’m getting old. My words are coming out all wrong. What I meant to say was, it’s nice to see you again, young master.”

So… was she saying she was old or not?
Maybe she meant the rest of her had aged, but her eyes were still sharp? I gave up trying to figure it out.

In any case, despite all her rambling, Martha didn’t kick Ricardo out.
Eventually, one of the other maids called her away.

With half the staff replaced recently, both Martha and Justin were overloaded.

Given how short-handed they were, assigning that young maid to me was probably the best they could do.

“You can go now.”

With both Martha and Justin gone, I waved my hand to send the maid off too.

“Head Maid told me not to leave your side under any circumstances.”

She was young, but surprisingly stubborn.

I wasn’t even sure if she realized I outranked Martha.

Ricardo scowled.

“Your lady says go. What’s with all the backtalk?”

“The reason I can’t leave is right here. If I do, Head Maid will have my neck.”

Most maids either swooned at Ricardo’s looks or got tongue-tied by his title.
But not this girl. She stood her ground.

No wonder Martha picked her to stay by my side.

“Then how about this: I’ll leave the door open. You can stand outside. If anything happens, you’ll hear it right away.”

She thought about it for a moment… and nodded. That much of a compromise, she could accept.

“You’re too soft,” Ricardo said, unable to hide his jealousy behind the scolding tone.

“You act like you’re only soft for me, but you’ve got a weak spot for everyone. Even that girl who blocked our carriage like she had something to say.”

I raised my hand to stop him before he spiraled further.

“And that bastard Count.”
His voice sharpened.

“If you’d asked me, I could’ve introduced you to some high-end scoundrels with better prices. But no—you went alone to meet the worst of the worst. A guy like that doesn’t respond to threats. You should’ve just sunk to his level.”

He was still angry that Edgar had grabbed my wrist.
The way his words shifted—from “that bastard Count” to “that bastard”—said enough.

“Ricardo.”

This time, I used his name out loud. My hand wasn’t enough to stop the wave of jealousy—only my voice could do that.

“It’s time to check your assignment.”

He fell quiet. Then, with a self-satisfied grin, he reached into his coat and pulled out a sheet of paper.

Mutual Binding Contract.

If I wasn’t seeing things, that was what the title said—written in his neat, bold handwriting.

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