No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 95

From Edgar’s perspective, the embezzlement of the dowry was something he could recover from.

He would claim that managing the property of a mentally unwell wife was simply part of his responsibility.

That’s why he had rushed to deny the abuse first. Thanks to Isla’s outburst, I was already painted as a mentally unstable woman.

Hiding a spouse’s disgraceful illness was considered noble, but being accused of abusing a patient—that was fatal.

“I submit Lady Linton’s medical records to the court,” Edgar’s lawyer said, handing over a thick file. He fumbled through an identical one in front of him, desperate not to miss another speaking opportunity.

“Lady Linton has attempted suicide six times. I believe this alone is sufficient evidence to demonstrate her mental instability.”

I could feel Ricardo’s entire body tense beside me.

Had every eye in the room not been on us, he likely would have blurted out that it was Cecilia—not me—who had tried to end her life.

But even that didn’t need to be said. Ricardo knew better than anyone that I wasn’t the type to be swept into despair, not enough to end my life.

Yet because I now occupied this body, the horrific image that must have entered his mind had him clenching his fists without realizing.

“I mean no offense to the Countess,” the lawyer continued, flipping through the records without conviction, “but would a sane person attempt it not once, but six times? Count Linton has witnessed his wife die and come back to life six times. Imagine the toll that takes.”

The lawyer’s tone was flat, as if even he had given up on turning this trial around.

Still, after taking on a case without properly researching it, he was likely just trying to avoid the label of ‘incompetent.’

Edgar, meanwhile, looked calm, as though this revelation would shift the court in his favor. He sat back and observed his lawyer’s efforts, occasionally shooting glances that suggested, Put a little more heart into it, would you?

“Count Linton,” the lawyer went on, “was devastated. To care for his wife, whose mental state was so fragile, he took personal charge of the Nadon estate. The Countess couldn’t even manage the household. Despite that, the Count entrusted her with accounts that, even if mishandled, wouldn’t cause serious damage. What more proof do we need that he respected his wife?”

Utter nonsense. Even the lawyer seemed aware of how ridiculous it sounded.

Countess Rosette, sitting beside Isla with a controlling grip on her daughter, wore the same resigned expression.

Only Edgar looked triumphant, his gaze locked smugly on me. And Ricardo, sitting at my side, had gone cold with anger.

“My client’s statement completely ignores how much pain Lady Linton must have been in to consider such a thing,” my lawyer objected.

The judge nodded. “Sustained.”

“Count Linton was openly unfaithful from the very start of their marriage,” my lawyer began. “And not with just anyone—but with a woman known throughout the capital: the opera singer, Miss Elodie. While the Count spent joyful nights with his mistress, Lady Linton was left to suffer in silence. Even then, she did not give up on her husband.”

He paused for dramatic effect, letting the room settle before he continued.

“Yes. Not even once did she give up on Count Linton. Even as her pain drove her to hurt herself.”

He presented Cecilia’s diary as evidence. The judge opened the first page, then immediately shut his eyes tight.

Cecilia’s writing was full of raw emotion—lines so aching they felt like blood spilled on the page. Her words alone told the entire story.

“Lady Linton was perfectly sane. If she had truly lost her mind, she would not have hurt herself after witnessing her husband’s betrayal. She would have hurt someone else. Her pain came from seeing the truth—clearly and unbearably.”

My lawyer ended with quiet conviction. I couldn’t help but be impressed. Ricardo had chosen well.

He balanced reason with emotion, presenting me as someone worthy of sympathy while still holding Edgar accountable.

“I won’t deny the affair,” Edgar finally muttered, glaring at his silent lawyer.

In noble trials, the goal was to throw your representative into the mud on your behalf.

But Edgar had already been forced to speak for himself twice.

“That affair is over,” he said. “My wife was never a partner to me—she was someone I needed to care for. It was a mistake, yes, and I don’t excuse it.”

Then he looked at Countess Rosette.

She had disappeared the moment his name became tarnished. She hadn’t stepped forward once to defend him.

“The mistress… was introduced to me by none other than Countess Rosette herself,” he said.

“I didn’t see it as betrayal. She told me to think of Miss Elodie as a friend, a companion to speak with. And she said that as long as I didn’t abandon my wife, she would turn a blind eye.”

“Count Linton!” the judge barked, warning him to stay on topic.

“I was misled,” Edgar insisted. “I thought I was meeting Elodie as a friend. If I’d known it would hurt my wife, I never would’ve done it. I regret it deeply. After ending things with Elodie, I personally visited Marchioness Federica’s estate to offer my apologies. There was a witness.”

He glanced once more at his lawyer, who remained unhelpfully mute, then pointed across the room.

“The witness is one of Countess Rosette’s maids.”

Only then did I notice Sarah standing near the back of the courtroom.

The poor girl was trembling so badly that she stumbled halfway on her way to the witness stand.

“Witness, state your name and position.”

“S-s-Sarah,” she stammered. “I—I am…”

Sarah looked at me with pleading eyes—carrying the faint hope that I might save her.

But when I said nothing—made no move to help her—tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I… I work as a maid at the Rosette estate,” she said, her voice trembling.

That was the price of betrayal—reduced to doing chores as a mere housemaid at Rosette Manor.

“She doesn’t know anything!” Countess Rosette snapped.

“Cecilia—after you lost your mind and ran off, I had to clean up the mess! She’s just a maid you abandoned. Judge, I love Cecilia, I do. But I can’t lie and say my daughter is well when she clearly isn’t.”

My daughter?

“I simply brought in a girl who had lost her mistress. I did it to help her, not to replace Cecilia.”

“Do you admit to introducing Count Linton to his mistress?” the judge asked coldly.

Countess Rosette vehemently shook her head.

“Absolutely not! Cecilia knows how much I despised that theater singer! I visited the Linton estate for her sake. Even if Cecilia’s mind is no longer sound, I believe she remembers that much.”

Rosette practically shoved Isla beneath the table, as if to hide her away from view. A noble act of maternal sacrifice—at least in appearance.

“Yes, I asked Count Linton to help manage Cecilia’s dowry. I know that girl well. I didn’t give birth to her, but I raised her as my own. Cecilia was unstable. I feared if she mishandled the estate’s affairs, the Linton name would suffer, and she would be cast out. So yes, I concealed the dowry out of a mother’s love.”

“So you admit to the deception?” the judge asked.

The clerk immediately began recording the statement.

Rosette bit her lip. She couldn’t afford to lose Edgar.

For Isla, the protection of House Linton was essential.

Edgar had no hesitation throwing Rosette under the carriage, but she couldn’t do the same. Her motherly devotion gleamed all the brighter for it.

“I did it for Cecilia. I loved her. And she loved me.”

Rosette’s tearful confession stirred nothing in me—only the cold thought that now would be the perfect time for Elodie to appear.

“Count Linton renounced his mistress, and the issue of the dowry was merely a misunderstanding—an act of kindness from Countess Rosette to protect Lady Cecilia,” Edgar’s lawyer quickly jumped in, trying to smooth things over.

“Lady Linton’s emotional distress is understandable. Since she currently serves as the Queen’s lady-in-waiting, perhaps a temporary separation—until things cool—would be the most dignified course.”

The judge tilted his head, clearly unconvinced.

He had a ruling to make. And more importantly, the Queen’s preference for that ruling was already known. He just hadn’t yet figured out how to label Edgar the villain convincingly enough.

That’s when it happened—a soft song began to drift in through the open court doors.

I glanced at Ricardo.

He was smiling with quiet satisfaction. That smile alone told me exactly who the voice belonged to.

“Your Honor! There’s a crowd gathering outside the courtroom!” a guard announced, hurrying in.

“A woman is singing—and people are shouting that Elodie has returned!”

Edgar shot to his feet, stunned. His face contorted in disbelief. He hadn’t anticipated Elodie would actually appear.

“She’s not a registered witness,” my lawyer said, stepping forward, “but she’s directly involved in this case. Your Honor, I ask that we hear what Miss Elodie has come to say.”

Without waiting for permission, he rushed to the door and threw it open.

And there stood Elodie.

A crowd swelled behind her, chanting her name, asking where she had been all this time.

Elodie continued singing—the same sorrowful song she once performed at my banquet, about a lover lost.

But her face was nothing like it had been then. Her eyes burned with fury. The moment the courtroom doors swung open, they locked on Edgar like arrows drawn to a target.

“Miss Elodie, please step inside,” the judge called.

But Elodie didn’t move.

“I have sinned against Lady Linton. I don’t deserve to stand beside her,” she said, her voice steady.

“Then what have you come here for?” the judge asked.

Elodie sank to her knees, her voice ringing loud and clear.

“I’ve come to accuse the man who murdered my child!”

Gasps rippled through the courtroom. The crowd outside grew louder.

Elodie stared directly at Edgar, who had turned a ghastly shade of pale.

“I was pregnant with Count Linton’s child—and I lost it because of him! The baby was fully formed, alive! If not for Count Linton, my child would be in my arms right now, nursing. But he killed it!”

Elodie’s voice, though no longer as sweet as it once was, still held the same power. Just as Ricardo had said—it had changed, yes, but her voice had lost none of its strength.

And her accusation didn’t just pierce the courtroom—it echoed through every ear outside, loud and unforgiving.

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