Throughout the resolution of his affairs in the capital, the maid’s words lingered in his mind. While he didn’t think it was a lie, he needed confirmation.

Was it really because of my mother?

He wanted to know the truth as soon as possible.

After swiftly handling urgent matters, Richt headed straight to Barsk. Diana warmly welcomed her son, who had come down after a long time.

“Long time no see.”

Diana pulled the muscles of her mouth into a wide smile, showing not a hint of concern for Isabelle, who had left home. Maybe it was Mia’s words, but his mother’s face didn’t look quite as kind today.

As they sat down and faced each other, a different vibe passed between them.

Recalling Mia’s words, Richt observed Diana. Despite her age, she had smooth skin without many wrinkles, and deep eyes full of love and affection, and nothing seemed to have changed.

He wondered if this woman in front of him, with the most compassionate face he’d ever seen, wasn’t real. What had happened to all the times he’d seen her pampering and caring for Isabelle?

On the other hand, Diana thought of Florine Teoran, marked as a potential daughter-in-law. Florine was the second daughter of Viscount Teoran, possessing outstanding beauty and excellent social skills.

Above all, the Teoran family held immense wealth and power, second only to the Calitheon family in the empire. That would be enough to give wings to her son.

The connection between Isabelle and Richt was already established before they got married. Still, due to the testament of the late Calitheon Duke, there was no way to act on it.

The Countess of Blanchette, Lady Isabelle, had never been favorable from the beginning. Although acknowledging the exceptional character of the late C Blanchette, other than that, there was not a single aspect of the family that appealed to Diana.

Moreover, Isabelle, while beautiful, was not vivacious. Without any endearing qualities, it was no wonder Richt hadn’t come down home often from the capital for the past three years.

Still, it was pleasing that Isabelle withdrew on her own when she sensed it. It felt like everything was finally falling into place.

Diana, who was wondering when to bring up Florine with Richt, spoke up.

“How’s the progress on the divorce papers?”

Richt’s eyes narrowed. Diana observed her son’s expression, trying to gauge his intentions.

“Well, that won’t happen. Because I don’t want it.”

It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but Diana didn’t reveal her inner thoughts.

“I don’t feel good about it, but what can you do? She’s the one who left.”

“That’s why I came there in the first place.”

Richt’s expression was noticeably different, and Diana’s eyes tightened as she sensed the change.

“Did Isabelle really want the divorce?”

Diana’s lips tightened. She thought the conversation with Isabelle was clear enough.

“I asked if you had intervened, mother.”

Richt asked again, not hiding his discomfort.

Diana let out a thin breath and straightened her posture. Her gaze shifted outward for a moment before returning to her son’s face. The steady, hard look in his eyes told her he knew something. Even if she told him no, he wouldn’t believe her.

“If the girl made that choice because of my influence, then that’s how she felt in the first place.”

Diana’s face was inexplicably still as she didn’t deny it. She didn’t change her expression, her face as graceful as ever.

“Really?”

“Yes. I let her go.”

Everything Mia said was true. Richt was plunged into great shock. He had not noticed at all. And he’d thought he’d done his best. A wave of self-loathing washed over him at his incompetence and pitifulness.

“Why did you do that?”

“She never suited our family from the beginning. You can always get remarried.”

“What was it that you didn’t like so much?”

“She didn’t fit in the social circle. You must have heard the rumors circulating.”

How could he not know? He was the one who settled Count Blanchette’s debts.

“It should be at least tolerable in terms of standards.”

“Just for that reason alone…”

It was an unreasonable reason. What kind of dignity was Diana trying to preserve? Today, Diana, his mother, seemed truly unfamiliar. He couldn’t fathom what hardships and humiliation Isabelle endured alone over the past three years.

“I want a family that can give you wings. The crumbling Blanchett Viscountcy won’t do.”

The night she demanded a divorce from the balcony, Isabelle’s worried face flashed before him.

‘You’ve been busy lately and haven’t been able to sleep much. You don’t have time to travel to and from distant regions and come all the way here to see me. I’m worried your body would bother you, perhaps getting exhausted.’

She kept quiet about Diana until the end, only concerned with Richt’s well-being. A foolish woman. woman. A damned good woman. His heart sank at the thought of Isabelle.

How could he treat such a wife?

‘Did you find another man while I was away?’

‘I didn’t know you were such a lecherous b*tch.’

Disgust overwhelmed him. A beastly bastard. An asshole. Arrogant was not a strong enough word to describe him.

“Is the name Calitheon so important? Didn’t your mother come from a rural marquisate?”

“Richt!”

Diana stiffened at the mention of her past and raised her voice.

“I must emphasize, my wife is Isabelle for a lifetime. If you insist on this nonsense, I will never come to this house again, for I intend to live with Isabelle in the capital.”

Richt spat out coldly and rose from his seat. There was nothing more he wanted to hear or say. He didn’t want to stay in Barsk anymore. He wanted to run to Isabelle, to tell her he was sorry, that he didn’t know anything, to beg her forgiveness.

As he was about to leave the first-floor hall and go outside, the butler, Lucien, approached him.

“What shall we do with the Lady’s study?”

He stopped in his tracks.

“Study?”

“Yes. Lady Isabelle suggested leaving it as it is, but I’m wondering if I should clean it up…….”

“Where is it?”

Unable to pass it by, Richt followed Lucien’s guidance and went up to the third floor.

The interior, which smelled of paint, looked untouched. The dust had settled on the furniture and easel, and the paints squeezed onto the palette had hardened completely.

Everything remained in its place, but it wasn’t a choice of preservation; it was abandonment. It wasn’t even worth cleaning up. Richt furrowed his brow, looked around, and approached the centerpiece easel. The canvas was covered with a cloth.

Was this Isabelle’s last painting? What could it be?

Richt raised his hand and tugged at the cloth. A large canvas was slowly revealed. The moment he saw what was inside, he froze, his deep black eyes darting about.

Filling the large canvas was none other than Richt himself. His mouth hung open in disbelief. His heart throbbed as if it were being stabbed.

Richt looked at the other canvases leaning against the wall. the same manner, his face was drawn on each one. She had drawn so many. He wondered why he had never seen her paintings before. Then it dawned on him. He had never set foot in his wife’s studio.

He now seemed to understand why Isabelle frequented the studio. It wasn’t just her love for painting. It was the only place where she could soothe her soul and find solace.

The yearning for Richt, the sorrow received from Diana, the accumulating loneliness. She bore it all here, alone. Waiting for Richt, who never came.

Her demand for a divorce and her resentment now made sense. For Isabelle, Richt was a husband who was neither comforting nor supportive. During the times when he was neglectful with the excuse of being busy, Isabelle grew tired, withered, and dried up amidst Diana’s disdain and mockery.

Why hadn’t I realized that the lovely vigor with which I had first met her was withering away, that the brightness she displayed before me was a laborious fabrication?

Under the name Calitheon, everything given came with responsibility. The assigned tasks had to be carried out flawlessly, superiority over others was expected, and he had to endure it all, as there was no such thing as a joyful task. He was grateful to his grandfather, Riccardo Calitheon because there was nothing unpleasant about it. For allowing him to take Isabelle as his wife.

On their first night together, Richt swore to Isabelle that he would not forget his grandfather’s wishes. He vowed to make her happy.

What had I been doing all this time?

‘You truly know nothing. Continue living in ignorance. You don’t deserve to know.’

‘You will never be able to make Isabelle happy for a lifetime. You won’t even be able to truly win her heart.’

Even though Viscount Ross had left, his words lingered like a curse.

He really did suck.