“Don’t worry. They say Count Baritone won’t last another three months. Once you’ve received that generous betrothal sum and taken care of him in his final moments, you can just return home. Then you can marry Lord Hans with a hefty dowry—he’ll be thrilled. Isn’t that right, Cornelia?”
Gerbera spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Cornelia wiped her tears and looked up.
“Would Lord Hans really marry me after I’ve been widowed once?”
“Of course! Your husband will be bedridden the entire time. It’s practically the same as being a first-time bride.”
Believing those words, Cornelia married Count Baritone.
True to his promise, the count paid an extravagant sum. Though bedridden, he was a refined and kind-hearted man. All Cornelia had to do was care for his daily needs and keep him company.
With sincerity, she devoted herself to his care.
Perhaps her presence gave him a newfound will to live, for despite everyone’s expectations, Count Baritone survived for another two years.
Although she ended up married far longer than anticipated, Cornelia found herself comforted by the count’s kindness. When his final moments arrived, she wept bitterly, clutching his frail hand.
“Please… don’t leave me behind…”
She had cared for him with all her heart.
Yet, the moment he passed away, his family unceremoniously cast her out, sending her straight back to her father’s home.
“We’ve already given you more than enough in the betrothal sum. Don’t expect to inherit anything else.”
The wife and children who had done nothing to care for the ailing Count Baritone wasted no time in throwing Cornelia out of their home, not even allowing her a proper mourning period.
And so, heartbroken, Cornelia returned to the Rosenblatt estate—only to face yet another devastating shock.
The generous betrothal sum she had received from Count Baritone was gone. It had been entirely squandered on repaying her father’s debts and funding the extravagant spending of the first wife. Worse still, Hans, whom she had hoped to reunite with, seemed distant. His replies to her letters were curt, devoid of warmth.
“What is the meaning of this, Mother? This is cruel! That money was supposed to be my dowry!”
“I’m so sorry, Cornelia. This happened because my position in this household is so weak…”
Cornelia’s mother could do nothing but weep when confronted.
Then, once again, an unthinkable order was given.
“Cornelia, thanks to your devoted care, Count Baritone lived two years longer than expected and spent his final days in happiness. Even the royal court speaks of your dedication. You did well.”
Her father praised her at first. However—
“Word of your reputation has reached Marquis Brandt, and he has now expressed his desire to marry you.”
“W-What?! No! Absolutely not, Father! I was supposed to marry Hans—”
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