Just thinking about him lifted her mood. A man so kind and gentle—even to a maid. The image of the intelligent, golden-haired man with a warm smile felt so vivid, it was as if he were standing right before her eyes.
Thinking of Ricardo felt like a cold Siberian breeze, but thinking of him was like the warm Mediterranean sun.
‘It’s no wonder Stella had a crush on him.’
In the original novel, Zeno was just as important as the male lead, Ricardo.
He was a powerful merchant lord who led a massive trading company that spanned across continents. Zeno had accumulated immense wealth and wielded influence over the political affairs of many nations. Through arms deals and war supply lines, he held enough power to tip the scales of authority.
While his cooperation was for his own gain, it undeniably helped Ricardo ascend the imperial throne.
During his stay at the duke’s estate at Ricardo’s invitation, Zeno grew closer to Stella through a coincidental encounter. Before he left, he even offered Stella a job at his foreign trading company. That’s how much he recognized her worth, even as a maid.
That’s why the version of me who liked Stella also liked the character Zeno Haveston.
‘It’s such a waste. If only Stella had taken that chance back then, she wouldn’t have died so pathetically.’
Unlike the original, I wasn’t going to miss my chance this time.
Of course, that didn’t mean I planned to follow Zeno. It would be strange for a duke’s wife to run off with another man.
But if there ever came a time I needed his help, I wouldn’t hesitate.
I promised myself once more: I’d stay out of everyone’s way, wait patiently for the right moment, and then quietly get a divorce and leave safely.
While lost in these thoughts, the wine bottle gradually emptied. Her strength waned, and the empty glass slipped from her hand and softly dropped onto the plush carpet.
A yawn escaped, followed by a wave of sleepiness that hit like a storm.
“So tired. I’m going to bed early today.”
She climbed into the soft bed and tucked the blanket up to her chin, closing her eyes.
‘It’s so comfortable… Why was Kayla always crying? What’s so great about that Ricardo guy, anyway?’
Knowing full well he wouldn’t come, she stretched out her arms and legs and peacefully drifted off to sleep. Even if her husband didn’t love her, a life of ease like this—lounging around and doing nothing—was quite satisfying.
As long as she didn’t end up dying because of him, she wouldn’t mind keeping this lifestyle going. A smile naturally tugged at her lips.
Meanwhile, the great hall of the duke’s estate remained noisy into the late hours of the night.
Ricardo sat with his retainers and a few knights, drinking.
Despite his subordinates urging him to return to his bride waiting in their room, Ricardo remained there well past midnight.
It was as if he wasn’t even aware that today had been his wedding day. Like always, tonight simply felt like another post-war celebration after a victorious campaign.
Thinking about his damned wedding and the bridal chamber waiting for him only filled him with rage.
He had absolutely no desire to go to the room where a woman was waiting for him, so he drank and laughed, hoping the night would pass quickly.
One by one, his subordinates began to pass out. As the sky outside began to turn faintly blue, Ricardo finally stepped outside.
He thought he was fine, but suddenly staggered and had to brace himself against a pillar, letting the dawn air clear his head.
“Damn it. Drank too much.”
He hadn’t turned down a single glass offered to him, which resulted in heavier drinking than usual. Now his eyelids were heavy and his vision blurred.
He’d spent the bitter winter and spring in field tents, soaked by dew and exhausted from battle. The accumulated fatigue of leading a brutal war weighed on him all at once.
Even after returning home in victory, he was met with nothing but this damn situation that made his head feel like it was splitting.
Guided purely by muscle memory, he stumbled toward his room.
The air inside the room felt different. A strangely sweet scent lingered, unfamiliar to him, and it made him frown slightly.
He walked straight to the bed and was about to collapse onto it, as he usually did for several days after a war.
But the moment he pulled back the canopy, he was taken aback.
His muddled mind snapped into clarity at the sight of someone lying on his bed.
Frowning, he looked down again at the bed.
A woman was fast asleep on his bed, as if she belonged there.
“…Ha.”
A short, disbelieving laugh escaped his lips.
The fact that he’d forgotten he was married, that tonight was his wedding night, and that he was only now realizing it—was already ridiculous. But the woman in front of him was even more baffling.
He’d expected her to be sitting somewhere, weeping pitifully or cursing his name.
But the scene before him completely shattered that expectation.
He quickly scanned the room to make sense of what had happened before he arrived. Any drowsiness had long since disappeared.
A neatly folded dress lay on one side of the room. Judging by the empty bottle on the table, she must’ve been drinking alone. A glass lay on the carpet, suggesting she’d gotten quite drunk.
Seeing that the glass hadn’t been shattered against the wall, she must’ve calmly drunk the entire bottle before making her way to bed.
With a hard expression, Ricardo looked down at the woman again.
“…Mmm.”
As if having a pleasant dream, she softly moved her lips, turned to the side, and continued sleeping peacefully. Like a child, she tucked her hands under her cheek and breathed quietly in her sleep.
As the blanket shifted, one pale, rounded shoulder peeked out from under her nightgown.
Ricardo looked at her as if she were some curious, unfamiliar creature.
‘How can she sleep like that?’
Seeing her sleeping so soundly and carefree made something twist deep inside him.
He let go of the bed canopy and abruptly turned to leave the room.
The early dawn light began to filter in through the windows.
And in the room where she slept alone, Stella remained blissfully unaware that Ricardo had even been there.
The birdsong outside grew louder. Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and light slowly began to seep in through her lashes.
“Yaaawn.”
Stretching, she slowly sat up and looked around.
Everything was just as it had been yesterday. Unsurprisingly, there was no sign that the duke had entered the room.
Feeling refreshed, she got out of bed.
‘What time is it that no one’s come to wake me?’
It wasn’t even early anymore. Normally, someone would’ve come to rouse the duchess and help her wash and dress, even if it wasn’t Molly.
‘No way Molly let me sleep out of concern.’
She threw on a robe and stepped outside to investigate.
Out in the hallway, the maids cleaning were startled when they saw her.
“L-Lady…”
“G-Good morning!”
Their panicked faces made it clear they’d been gossiping about her just moments ago.
“Where’s Molly?”
At the mention of Molly’s name, the maids flinched again and exchanged awkward glances.
‘Of course. Already running her mouth first thing in the morning.’
As she passed them, she headed to the window overlooking the garden.
Just as expected, a group of maids had gathered on the lawn, and in the center stood Molly.
With a pitiful expression, she was animatedly speaking to the others—though even from this distance, Stella could see the faint upward curl of her lips.
‘I told her to get it together…’
Clearly, Molly hadn’t listened to a word of her warning.
Stella turned with a hardened expression. The maids behind her quickly bowed their heads, their faces pale.
Tightening the belt of her robe, Stella marched down the stairs in her slippers. Sure enough, she could hear whispers from the servants she passed.
She walked into the garden. As soon as the maids noticed her, they froze in shock and scrambled backward.
Still oblivious, Molly continued talking excitedly.
“The duke is just too much, honestly. How could he leave his bride alone on their wedding night?”
“…”
The other maids’ faces turned sour, but Molly remained clueless.
“I went to check this morning, and she drank an entire bottle on her own last night. Must’ve been heartbroken.”
“Uh, um…”
One of the maids timidly tried to warn her, eyes flicking behind Molly. But Molly, too caught up in her own gossip, didn’t notice.
“She must’ve cried herself to sleep. Honestly, I feel so bad for her. A wedding night alone? The shame—”
“Molly.”
A cold, sharp voice cut through the chatter like a knife.
The gathered maids gasped and quickly stepped aside. Molly finally turned around.
“Ah…”
Her eyes widened as she locked eyes with Stella, who stood just a few steps away—arms crossed, expression unreadable, dressed in nothing but a robe and slippers.
The color drained from Molly’s face.
“D-Duchess…”
Stella’s gaze slowly scanned the gathered maids before settling back on Molly.
“I didn’t realize you were so concerned for me, Molly. It’s touching, really.”
“N-No, I wasn’t trying to—”
“I didn’t know you had the time or the authority to wander around spreading rumors before breakfast.”
Molly’s lips quivered, trying to find something to say, but Stella raised a hand to stop her.
“If you have that much energy in the morning, I’ll be sure to assign you more tasks today.”
Molly paled further.
“I expect the rest of you to return to your duties. Immediately.”
The maids scattered like startled birds.
Left standing alone in the garden, Stella let out a quiet sigh and looked up at the brightening sky.
‘This is only the beginning.’
She wasn’t going to play the part of the weeping bride. If they expected her to cry and crumble, they were in for a surprise.
Let them talk. She had no intention of dying the same pathetic death this time.
