~Chapter 14~
“Oh my, it’s been a while. Looks like you haven’t been doing well. Your face looks rough.”
Sofia covered her mouth and giggled, then glanced around the restaurant. It was a place my grandfather often visited. Because of that, the Graham family members used it often too.
Tsk.
I should’ve expected something like this could happen.
I looked at the women standing behind Sofia.
I didn’t recognize any of them from high-society gatherings. Their outfits looked awkward and cheap—like they were trying to copy someone else.
I let out a sigh.
This kind of encounter was the last thing I wanted at the end of an otherwise lovely evening.
It felt like the day was ending on a sour note.
There was only one reason I had tolerated Sofia all this time:
I didn’t want to stoop to her level.
Living such a pitiful life yet acting like a peacock—how pathetic.
Living no better than that… I couldn’t help but pity her.
If I hadn’t been lucky enough to have my grandfather’s support—
If the Barnaby family had truly gone bankrupt from my mother’s hospital bills—
My father would have sold me off without a second thought.
If that had happened, maybe I would’ve been standing in Sofia’s place right now.
That’s why I felt pity for her. A calculated, realistic kind of pity.
She probably had no idea what I was thinking as I looked at her.
“Move along.”
I still had no desire to deal with her.
“I’m just saying this because I care. You really haven’t been taking care of yourself. Well, I suppose that’s why you got kicked out.”
“Really? She got kicked out?”
“Of course! Do you think our marquis would ever be dumped by someone? With that face? With that money?”
Sofia chirped like a bird, raising her voice louder and louder, clearly trying to draw attention.
People who were finishing their dinners and heading home stopped and turned to watch us.
What a strange scene.
The former wife and the mistress standing together like this—in public, no less.
“That’s right. There’s no way a man like the marquis would be dumped. A divorce? Impossible.”
The women with Sofia all nodded in agreement.
Their mouths were getting too bold. I couldn’t just let it slide.
“Don’t try to cover the sky with your hands, Sofia.
Do you really think hiding the truth will make it disappear?”
I smiled coldly as I spoke.
Among all the people staring, I wondered—
How many of them would actually take her side?
Stupid Sofia.
The high-ranking nobles who come to places like this?
They believe there’s a hierarchy even among nobles.
To people like that, Sofia?
She’s probably seen as nothing more than dirt under their nails.
At least my name is officially listed in the noble family records.
Sure, they might not like me either, but at least I’m better than Sofia in their eyes.
They’ll definitely take my side.
“And airing your family’s dirty laundry in public? That’s not a very good look.”
I sighed dramatically.
Right away, sharp glances were directed at Sofia.
But she didn’t seem to notice.
“It’s not the marquis who should be ashamed—it’s you! You still think you’re the marquis’s wife or something.”
Sofia whined in a fake-cute voice.
“You really need to know your place.”
I gave her a cold smile.
“And you should look at yourself, Sofia. Do you really think you belong somewhere like this?”
Sofia trembled and opened her mouth like she was about to say something.
Looks like she had more to say.
Not that I cared.
I’d already given her more attention than she deserved.
I turned to leave—but then, she grabbed my wrist.
“Are you always going to treat me like—eeek!”
Just then, one of the noblewomen standing nearby shoved Sofia aside with her shoulder, forcing her way through Sofia’s group.
“What is this mess? This restaurant’s really gone downhill. Trash like this is allowed in now?”
Sofia’s face turned pale.
She whipped her head around and made eye contact with an older, sharp-eyed noblewoman—and froze in fear.
The old lady glanced between me and Sofia with a look of disgust before walking off.
Others did the same.
People stared at Sofia with judgmental eyes and threw harsh comments at her group.
Sometimes, a few looks came my way too—but I didn’t mind.
In the end, it wasn’t until the restaurant manager came out that the scene at the entrance finally calmed down.
Sofia, along with her humiliated group, slunk away like defeated soldiers.
She still didn’t understand how things worked in this world.
I laughed quietly as I watched the manager apologizing to each of the nobles waiting for their carriages.
They’ll probably ban her from coming here again.
“We’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens again, ma’am,” the manager said.
“For the restaurant’s reputation, we must draw the line.”
Just then, my carriage arrived. I left with a refreshed, satisfied feeling.
Not even half a day later, rumors about Sofia being humiliated at the restaurant had already reached Graham Bank.
I knew that would happen.
After moving into the Graham estate, Sofia started enjoying luxuries she didn’t deserve.
If my guess is right, the dresses her friends were wearing that day?
She probably lent them herself.
Sofia often brought her friends to the estate, giving or lending them clothes as if she were generous.
I even recognized one of the women I ran into at the restaurant.
She had come to the Graham house before and acted like a noble, looking down on me.
“It’s just a shared family registry, right, Sofia? You’re clearly higher than a woman like that.”
“Of course! I think so too, Sofia. Think about it. Men always put their children first. That woman—does she even have a son or daughter? Obviously, you are the priority.”
The restaurant encounter had been a perfect chance for revenge—without me having to lift a finger.
I didn’t have to dirty my hands or my mouth. I let others do the work.
To every noble who stepped in for me—I silently applauded.
Anyway, today was the day I was meeting some of Graham Bank’s oldest clients.
I had come to the restaurant in a good mood.
Three days had already passed since I met Baldwin.
Right now, Heres was reviewing the cruise ship proposal Baldwin had sent from Constantine.
We were also calculating the expected profits and how to fairly divide the return among investors—based on Baldwin’s requested changes to the profit-sharing ratio.
In four more days, I’d be coming back to this same restaurant again.
“We’re seeing each other a lot these days, Patrick.”
“I enjoy seeing you often, Madam. I hope you feel the same.”
I smiled behind my hand.
“About that little scene three days ago… I want to apologize. The restaurant didn’t manage the guests properly, and it caused you trouble.”
“No need. That wasn’t your fault, Patrick. It’s the fault of the one who gave power to someone who didn’t deserve it.”
Patrick caught on that I was criticizing Egbert indirectly and smiled faintly.
Not responding to such comments—that’s what makes a good restaurant manager.
His polite smile was just right—not offensive or overly humble. His professionalism was perfect.
“Please take care of today’s meal, Patrick. We have very important guests. Has anyone arrived early?”
“No, ma’am. Let me guide you to your prepared seat.”
“Thank you.”
I followed Patrick to the room. The wide dining hall was decorated to match the old nobles’ tastes.
A classic centerpiece sat in the middle of the table, and soft candlelight flickered gently, adding to the atmosphere.
Just their style. Very classic, very formal.
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.
I had no idea what they thought of me now, after divorcing Marquis Egbert.
After all, I was the heir chosen by my late grandfather.
And Egbert was his only biological grandson.
“Sigh…”
Before passing the bank to me, Grandfather had said, ‘Just don’t let it collapse.’
He never offered to persuade his old friends to stay on my side.
That was just like him.
He gave me the opportunity—but not the path.
With a bit of anxiety, I waited for the guests to arrive.
There were 10 people on today’s guest list.
These were the people who helped Graham Bank grow into a major institution.
They were known as the Graham Committee.
Time passed slowly.
But no matter how long I waited, the door didn’t open.
Did they not get the invitations?
Not a single person on the guest list had ever missed a regular meeting.
My back started to sweat with nervousness.
The attendants moved back and forth with troubled looks.
Finally, 30 minutes after the scheduled time, the door opened.
Only two men walked in, both with cold expressions.
“Ah! Count Aiple! And Count Simon!”
“There’s no need to greet us so warmly, Madam,” Count Simon said coldly.
He glanced around at the empty room and then added,
“I came only because I wanted to honor the face of the late Zerares.”
