No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 130

If she had been in her right mind, she would’ve dismissed it as nonsense, a ridiculous vow made in the heat of the moment.

If I change, I’ll let you kill me.

She’d once heard that the opposite of love isn’t hatred—but indifference.

Hatred, after all, is as intense an emotion as love. They’re not opposites; they’re mirrors, two sides of the same paper-thin coin.

So if Ricardo ever stopped loving her, it wouldn’t be hatred. It would be disinterest. He would stop seeing her entirely like a pebble on the road, something he glimpsed while passing in a carriage and then forgot in seconds.

She should’ve challenged him. Should’ve pointed out how absurd it was.

If that time ever came, he probably wouldn’t even want to kill her. He wouldn’t care enough to.

She had spent her whole life building iron gates around her emotions, reinforcing them with every kind of lock and security. But all it took was one reckless vow from Ricardo—and it all came crumbling down.

To anyone else, it would’ve sounded like a horrifying threat.

But to Lia, it was salvation.

It was only after hearing that vow that she finally understood her mother.

Her mother’s years of violence and bitterness, maybe they had been a plea for someone to end her suffering.

And Lia… had ignored that plea.

In the end, her mother had to take her own life. Alone.

She had looked away. She hadn’t hated her mother but she hadn’t embraced her, either. She had stood by, a spectator, watching it all.

Her mother must have looked at her and wondered: When is she going to let me die already?

There was no excuse.
Deep down, somewhere in her unconscious mind, Lia had probably been waiting for the same thing.

She didn’t want to become her mother.

She didn’t want to be neglected and left behind, until she was the one reaching for death.

So instead, she cut everything off—every possibility—before it even started.

If I change, I’ll let you kill me.

I swear it.

She whispered those words over and over in her mind, and every time she did, a fresh shiver ran down her spine.

“But if you really did change,” she murmured aloud, “I’d probably run away before I ever laid eyes on you again.”

She was selfish like that.
Even knowing the weight of his vow, even knowing how far he’d gone just to offer her that promise, she couldn’t leave it at that. It still wasn’t enough.

And of all days, today was the one she had to return to the palace.

She had succeeded in sending Joanna away. Elodie was reinstated.

But Edgar hadn’t paid up yet.

There were a thousand things to do and now she also had to make sure Ricardo had nowhere to run.

Time was short.

She didn’t waste any by calling for a maid. She simply threw a robe over her nightgown, slipped on her slippers barefoot, and headed straight for the study.

It was time to make use of Isla.

The first letter she wrote was addressed to Joanna. The woman adored her daughter. No matter how badly Isla begged, Joanna would never approve of a marriage to Edgar.

Especially not after she had left Rosette Count’s estate with only one condition: Treat Isla as a noble lady of the house.

There was no way she would accept Isla marrying the very man who had divorced the family’s only true heir.

This letter would mark the end of Joanna’s distant detachment—of standing by and watching from a safe distance while chaos unfolded. No more pretending she wasn’t involved.

In some twisted way, Lia owed Isla a thank-you, for chasing her carriage that day. It meant Lia didn’t have to get her own hands dirty in this mess.

She sealed the letter.

Joanna could take it from here and tear Edgar apart for her.

The next letter was for Josephine. A formal request asking her to become Elodie’s patron.

The Marchioness of Federica wouldn’t touch such a worldly affair. She was far too mindful of the Queen’s image.

Josephine, on the other hand, was perfect.

She still carried a faint guilt over having been no help during Lia’s divorce.

Lia added a small note at the end: “If a fortunate day ever comes my way, I won’t forget you.”

Josephine was clever. She’d understand the implication—that Lia might one day become the Duchess of Bastian.

The third wasn’t a letter at all.

It was a Contract Execution Agreement.

Lia had spent all night thinking it through. Her hand didn’t falter once as she wrote.

When she finally emerged from the study, a carriage from the royal palace was already waiting.

And beside it—looking nothing like the ambitious palace guard he once was—stood the same man from before. Now, worn out by court life, he looked like someone barely holding on.

“Still staring at him?”

Ricardo’s voice came from behind her, no longer hiding his jealousy.

“Looking at someone like that for too long makes your eyes tired. If you’re going to look at something, at least make it something pleasing.”

With that, he leaned in, dipping his head down until his face was level with hers.

Even the Queen had begrudgingly acknowledged that face.

The Duchess of Bastian had tried to sell him to Lia on the strength of it alone.

But Lia wasn’t looking at his face.

Her heart fluttered because of his hand—resting quietly behind her on the window frame.

The hand that, if she asked, would kill her before she ever became pathetic.

“You’re just in time, Ricardo,” she said.

Ricardo inhaled sharply.

She could tell exactly what he was thinking—but instead of reacting, she simply opened the document she had prepared.

The contract.

Ricardo didn’t move his hands. They remained planted on the windowsill behind her.

But his eyes scanned the paper in front of him.

“Just because it’s a thriller doesn’t mean it can’t have a little romance.”

Ricardo muttered that cryptic line under his breath and exhaled deeply.

“So… do I just sign it?”

He didn’t hesitate, not even for a second. That, oddly enough, was what surprised me.

The contract plainly stated that he would kill me if he ever stopped loving me.

To be honest, it was an insurance policy.

A desperate contingency to draw out at least hatred when his love eventually faded into indifference.

There was even a clause that said the contract would be made public if he failed to kill me. Because nothing stirs hatred quite like blackmail from someone you want nothing to do with.

That was my logic when I added it in.

Ricardo calmly pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the contract.

I didn’t try to stop him. I simply folded the signed paper with care.

“There are copies,” I said.

“Thorough as always,” he murmured.

“Three, to be exact. The original will be kept somewhere only I know, and I’ll carry one with me at all times. The remaining copies are in the study. Go sign those, please. I need to change.”

As I moved to leave, Ricardo didn’t budge. He blocked my way with his arm.

“Lia,” he said, “can I assume… that we became a couple as of last night?”

The question, paired with that adorably hopeful face of his, was enough to make any bystander blush.

“Once you’ve signed all three copies.”

“You’re truly impossible. I think I just fell for you all over again.”

“Fall as many times as you like. But you still need to sign.”

Ricardo chuckled softly and finally went off toward the study.

Only after I heard the door close behind him did I let my knees give out and slide to the floor.

“Not good for the heart,” I muttered.

That face was far too much stimulation for this early in the morning.

My legs still trembling, I glanced out the window at the palace guard.

“Much better,” I sighed.

That dreary, worn-out face—still clinging to his post out front—was like a balm to my nerves.

Just like before, the stress on his face made him more effective. The more exhausted he looked, the calmer I felt.

When I finally regained my composure, I returned to my room—only to find someone already there.

Someone I never expected to see leave the attic of Rosette Count’s estate for anything in the world.

“Pepe?”

“My lady.”

Even at a glance, her dark eye circles made it obvious she hadn’t slept.

It could’ve been just work exhaustion, but the grave expression she wore was far too intense for that.

“I’m against this,” she said bluntly.

I blinked, taken aback by the sudden declaration.

“My lady, you’re far too good for Ricky—for Lord Bastian’s heir.”
“I’ve only ever praised him in front of you, and I think that was my mistake. I didn’t mean to lie, but I might have misled you. He’s fine as a friend to mooch off, sure. But a life partner? Absolutely not.”

Ah. That’s right—her attic had a clear view of the garden.

She must’ve stayed up again last night, burning through her backlog of work.

“I saw him—yesterday—point a knife at you.”

Her voice trembled with righteous fury.

“I always said he was shady, and now he’s gone and pulled that on you? No matter what nonsense he fed you, how could you smile at someone who raised a blade to you? I was going to run out there, but I was so stunned I just stood there clutching my chest, and the next thing I know, you let him back in!”

Admittedly… from the attic, it would have looked like a very different scene.

Though, frankly, it wasn’t that different from what really happened.

Ricardo had pulled a knife.
And I had smiled like a madwoman.

“Pepe.”

I called her name sternly.

But Penelope only squared her shoulders, igniting with even more conviction.

“You just got rid of a loser not that long ago. You should aim for someone average, at least. So how did you go from one loser to this creepy one?”
“He does like you. I’ll give him that. But just keep him close and string him along—use him when you need something. Being the duke’s friend is way better than being the duchess. Who wants that life? Constantly walking on eggshells, expected to bear heirs, watching your best years slip by while he does whatever he wants.”

“I’ve signed everything, Lia.”

Great timing.

Ricardo burst in through the door.

I patted Penelope’s shoulder, trying to calm her as her face turned pale. Then, I narrowed my eyes at him.

He’d never once entered my room without knocking.

And I had mentioned I’d be changing. Which meant…

There was no other explanation—he must’ve heard everything and barged in to make a statement.

“You forgot to knock, Ricardo.”

“Wasn’t my fault,” he said smoothly. “Someone was making such an impassioned speech, I didn’t hear my own knock.”

“Did you knock on air, perhaps?”

“Air, wall, whatever. The gesture was made.”

So yes, he’d knocked on air.

“See that, my lady?”
“He’s twisted. He’s always been that way.”

With impressive courage, Penelope actually pointed at him.

“He’s not the type to walk away just because you say no. That man has never left a single thing unfinished once he’s decided on it. If you just hold your ground, you could use the Bastian name for the rest of your life.”

Ricardo smiled faintly.

Ironically, the line that was meant to insult him—he always finishes what he starts—only made him look proud.

It made me feel reassured, too.

Even though we had a contract—and he legally couldn’t abandon me unless he killed me—I couldn’t help but hope he would fulfill the vow on his own, without needing to be forced.

“You heard that, Lia.”

“I did,” I replied, grinning.

“It’s comforting to know our contract won’t end up just a worthless piece of paper. Honestly, this might be what happiness feels like.”

For some reason, Ricardo’s smile wavered just a little.

“I was hoping… that what happened last night might count for more,” he said, trailing off.
“But hey, if this makes you happy, then I’ll be happy too.”

Penelope asked what contract we were talking about, but I was too drunk on this strange new feeling—happiness—to answer.

I told her to help me into my dress instead, shushing her before she could ask more.

Ricardo looked slightly sulky, which was strange—but whatever.

I’d always been the type to look out for no one but myself.
So if he started regretting all this now?

That was his problem, not mine.

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