Episode 36
“I’m not stupid!”
Martinel shouted from his room, clearly having overheard everything. Isabella, unfazed, pretended not to hear him and sipped her tea again.
“I’m going to marry Miss Violet!”
“Did you hear that?” Isabella said with a sly smile.
Monica could only laugh awkwardly. If she responded honestly, she’d have to admit that Master Martinel had no intention of marrying the young lady—hardly appropriate to say aloud.
Isabella continued as though nothing had happened.
“It’s actually a good thing. It’s obvious he’s not interested in me. That makes it perfect.”
Monica blinked, trying to process Isabella’s words.
According to this ten-year-old, marriage was simply a transaction—a way for two people to fulfill their mutual needs. The Valentino family must have been quite pragmatic.
If it were the old Mollet family, Count Valentino would never have considered marrying Isabella into it. But with Riella’s enormous dowry and the family’s connection to the influential Sollivan family, the Mollets were now an attractive match.
“The repairs to our mansion were finished a long time ago. My mother is just using it as an excuse to come here.”
This mature tone seemed like a direct reflection of the adults around her. Monica smiled faintly and asked, “But you know, Miss Valentino, I don’t understand. What’s so perfect about marrying a husband who doesn’t care for his wife?”
Isabella smirked mischievously. “This is a secret, but I’ll tell you.”
Monica leaned in slightly as Isabella lowered her voice.
“After I get married, I’m going to the capital. I’ll make excuses about joining the social circles there, and he’ll leave me alone.”
“What will you do in the capital?”
At this, Isabella’s face lit up with childlike excitement, though her words were anything but innocent.
“I’ll learn how to manage money.”
Monica chuckled, amused yet impressed. “Wouldn’t it be better to share your plan with Master Martinel? He might support you.”
“Why would I do that?” Isabella scoffed. “It’s better if he doesn’t care about me.”
From the room, Martinel shouted again, “It’s disgraceful for a gentleman to hear the gossips about a lady’s affair!”
“That’s true,” Monica said, suppressing a laugh.
“But I’m not hearing you because I’m going to marry Miss Violet!” Isabella added. “It’s not going to happen anyway!”
Monica could hardly keep her composure. The boy’s indignant defense of a future he clearly hadn’t considered was both endearing and hilarious.
“Did your tutor say anything about this?” Monica asked, steering the conversation back to Isabella.
“Oh, Miss Rosemary said it was a good plan but told me to keep it to myself until after the wedding.”
“Aha, then shouldn’t you keep it a secret from me, too?”
Isabella hesitated, her eyes widening in realization. She had revealed more than she intended. Her cheeks flushed as she stammered, “You won’t tell anyone, will you? That’s not ladylike…”
Monica smiled gently. “I’m not a noblewoman.”
Isabella blushed even more but quickly calmed down when Monica added, “I think it’d be fun if your tutor could join us for tea next time. The three of us would have a great time.”
“You’re not trying to scold me, are you?” Isabella asked with a pout.
“Of course not. I just think it would be interesting to meet Miss Rosemary. She sounds impressive.”
Isabella beamed, clearly pleased by the compliment.
Just then, Madame Orange entered the room.
“Miss Mollet’s concert is about to begin. If tea time is over, please head to the hall.”
“Ah, my mother’s calling,” Isabella said. She curtsied to Monica. “Miss Monica, this was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.”
Martinel and Isabella bickered as they made their way to the hall, each trying to claim Monica’s attention. Isabella grabbed one of Monica’s hands, and Martinel, not wanting to be outdone, took her other arm.
The four eventually reached the hall, which was bustling with guests. The sound of lively music and laughter filled the air.
“It’s my sister!” Martinel cried, running towards Riella, who stood by the piano.
Riella smiled warmly at her brother but grew cold when her eyes met Monica’s. Feeling uncomfortable, Monica instinctively stepped back.
As the concert began and the attention shifted to Riella, Monica tried to slip out unnoticed. But just as she was about to leave, someone brushed past her, spilling their drink slightly onto her sleeve.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, looking up to meet the eyes of none other than Enrique Sollivan.
Her breath was caught. In the daylight, he looked even more striking than she remembered. His sharp features, disheveled blond hair, and tired yet captivating eyes seemed to glow in the sunlight.
Enrique glanced at her sleeve, then flicked his own as though brushing off the encounter. His expression was cold and unreadable.
“You should go,” he said curtly.
Monica felt a pang of disappointment but nodded. “Sorry…” she murmured and hurried towards the exit.
Before she could leave, however, someone grabbed her arm. Startled, she turned around to see Enrique again, but this time his expression had completely changed.
A crooked smile played on his lips—dizzyingly beautiful and utterly disarming.