Episode 25
Riella Mollet was anxious, nearly to the point of losing her mind.
Since morning, her maid Becky had been fussing over the hem of her dress.
“Miss!”
Becky was well aware of Riella’s habit of clutching her dress whenever she was nervous. Having served the Mollet household for years, tending to Riella’s clothes and shoes, it was second nature for her to notice such details.
“Sir Sullivan will be back soon. He’ll think I’m a fidgety young lady,” Riella fretted.
As usual, Becky offered light reassurance. A seasoned maid in La Spezia, she had secured her position in the Mollet household with three letters of recommendation.
Despite being a lower-class noblewoman from a wealthy family, Riella typically listened to Becky’s gentle persuasion. She would nod and obediently release her skirt.
But today was different. Sitting tensely in the guest room that wasn’t her own, Riella clutched the hem of her shiny satin dress tightly and looked up at Becky with uncharacteristic sharpness.
“If you don’t know, be quiet, Becky.”
Becky was startled. Her face flushed with humiliation.
When it came to Sir Sullivan, he was the most eligible bachelor every noble family in La Spezia was eager to entertain. Even the Mollet family, including Lady Mollet, eagerly awaited his visits.
Until recently, Riella herself had been blushing and shy at the mere mention of Sir Sullivan. Becky couldn’t fathom what had prompted this sudden outburst.
“Miss, am I bothering you? Should I leave?” Becky asked politely, masking her surprise.
This was Becky’s subtle way of extending mercy. It gave Riella a chance to acknowledge her misplaced anger and calm herself.
In truth, the relationship between a young lady and her maid was symbiotic. Without a reliable maid, a noblewoman’s social image could crumble in an instant. Becky prided herself on her role, but Riella ignored this olive branch.
“Get out,” Riella said coldly.
Becky blinked twice, her expression shifting to one of disbelief.
“Get out!” Riella snapped again, her voice rising.
“… Very well. Call me if you need anything,” Becky said, retreating quickly.
Before the door closed, the other maids outside the room exchanged curious glances, looking between Riella and Becky. Becky, with her brow furrowed, shrugged subtly—but only where Riella couldn’t see.
Even if Riella had seen, she wouldn’t have noticed. Her mind was consumed by the thoughts of Monica Offen.
—
As soon as the door shut, Riella slumped onto the table. If Lady Mollet had seen her, she would’ve scolded her for being unladylike. But with no one around, Riella didn’t care.
“Ugh!” Riella groaned inwardly.
Monica Offen.
That infuriating girl. Where had she come from, and why was she here?
“That girl must have come to La Spezia just to humiliate me!”
Riella’s fist lightly struck the table. It wasn’t exactly ladylike behavior, but in her private turmoil, she found it hard to care.
—
Years ago, at the age of twelve, Riella had been adopted into the Mollet family, leaving her orphan past as Lizzie Offen behind. She had worked hard to perfect the role of a noble young lady. But Monica’s reappearance after ten years had shattered the illusion, dragging her back to memories she’d rather forget.
What irritated Riella the most was how easily Monica had shifted her tone. After years of sparring, Monica had suddenly softened, addressing her as “Miss Riella” and promising not to insult her again.
Riella had foolishly let her guard down, thinking the matter resolved. But deep down, she knew better.
—
Sir Sullivan
The anxiety Riella felt wasn’t only about Monica. It also stemmed from her actions at the banquet—where she had boldly proposed to Sir Enrique Sullivan.
She knew how improper it was for a lady to propose to a gentleman. It went against every rule of etiquette she had been taught. Worse, her current circumstances made it even more disgraceful.
But Riella had acted impulsively, trusting that Enrique Sulivan, known for his discretion, would never speak of her breach of protocol.
—
The Sulivan family had been a pillar of nobility, famed for their military lineage. Enrique’s older brother, Pablo Sulivan, had once been poised to inherit the family’s legacy. But his cowardice and betrayal during the war had disgraced the family.
Pablo had fled the battlefield, faking his death, only to be exposed in a scandalous column. The kingdom had stripped the Sulivan of their wealth, leaving them to sell off centuries-old properties, antiques, and jewels to pay for war reparations.
—
Riella’s adoptive father, Lord Mollet, had seized this opportunity to climb the social ladder. He extended financial aid to the Sullivans, hoping to secure a marriage alliance between Riella and Enrique.
When Lady Sulivan rejected the proposal, Lord Mollet’s fury was boundless.
“You need to make him choose you,” he had told Riella, his tone cold and unyielding.
For Riella, the stakes were clear. She owed her comfortable life to the Mollets. If she failed to secure a marriage with Enrique, her adoptive father wouldn’t hesitate to sell her off to the highest bidder.
—
Now, sitting alone in the guest room, Riella’s mind raced. The weight of her adoptive family’s expectations, her tangled past with Monica, and the looming presence of Sir Sullivan were almost too much to bear.
Her temples throbbed, but she dared not touch her forehead for fear of smudging her perfectly applied makeup.
For now, all she could do was wait—wait for her chance to take control of her fate.
—
