Please Dissolve The Marriage With Me

“Please… dissolve the marriage with me.”

Isabella listened to Marguerite’s words, spoken with a face full of despair, with jubilation in her heart. She maintained a suitably demure expression on the surface, but her flushed cheeks twitched, and she looked as though she might burst into cries of joy at any moment.

‘Serves you right for currying favor with the enemy’s house.’

Accustomed to the tyranny of her father and sister, Marguerite had never changed her expression no matter how unreasonable the demands placed on her. That such a Marguerite should live in wealth within the rival House de Broy was something that must not be allowed.

So this was her punishment, Isabella twisted her lips in satisfaction.

Noel and the royal family must have found House de Broy distasteful as well—a house that held a ducal title far too grand for it.

‘And I’m sure he has feelings for me, too. He wants to show me the power he holds.’

Sneaking a glance at Noel, Isabella narrowed her eyes at his well-formed features.

Even among royalty, it was the First Prince who would inherit the throne. The lower one’s position in the line of succession, the less freely one could use one’s assets, or so she had heard.

Maurice had also said that House de Broy had gained its ducal title by taking in a prince of similarly distant standing as a son-in-law.

‘Father is terrible at managing things anyway. If I take Lord Noel as a husband, I can let him use the Clavel territory however he likes. With the royal family’s protection, maybe we never needed my sister to begin with. No—rather than that, I should give that territory to my sister and marry into the royal family myself…?’

Her chest swelled with baseless dreams of future happiness.

Facing her, Marguerite bit her lip, her face pale.

Words of regret surfaced in her heart.

‘It’s all my fault. Because I never said anything, Isabella grew up without any sense of guilt. Because I kept smiling foolishly, I ended up causing trouble for Anna and the others… and above all, for Lucien-sama.’

Not resisting had been her way of protecting herself. It had been the easiest path, the one that should have hurt the least. And yet now, the emboldened Isabella had even dragged the royal family into this, trying to crush House de Broy.

And at the center of it all stood Marguerite.

If only she had faced Isabella sincerely as an elder sister.

If only she had taken a firm stand against Lady Yumila and the servants.

She had tried to avoid conflict, only to invite even greater chaos.

The responsibility for that lay with Marguerite.

And yet—

Unable to bear it any longer, tears fell.

Returning to that house where she had lived by killing her own heart was now terrifying beyond measure.

Marguerite had learned what it was like.

Warm meals, a room where she could sleep in peace, and the happiness of seeing the face of the person she loved.

‘I don’t want to be separated from Lucien-sama…!!’

But that cry never became words.

“Lady Marguerite, you wish for the marriage to be dissolved, then?”

Though gentle in tone, Noel’s words were cold enough to be cruel. Marguerite nodded through her tears.

“Yes… I was treated with care by House de Broy. That much is not a lie.”

Noel looked up at Lucien, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Lady Marguerite says as much. Lucien, do you also agree to the dissolution of the marriage?”

Staring at Noel as if to bore holes through him, Lucien replied—

“There’s no chance I would.”

He said it in a single breath.

‘Eh?’

Marguerite lifted her face in shock, her eyes meeting Lucien’s.

His deep blue eyes burned with anger—just like they had at the evening party.

At last, Marguerite realized.

She had naïvely thought that Lucien, who blushed and looked away, or Lucien, who furrowed his brows and frowned, must be angry at her.

But she had been wrong.

Lucien’s fist was trembling.

He was holding his anger in check, yet still carrying within him a surge of emotion too intense to fully control.

‘H-He’s incredibly angry…!!’

This was Lucien’s anger. What he had directed at Marguerite before had not been anger at all.

For a moment, even her sadness slipped away, and Marguerite stared blankly at Lucien’s face.

Her unstoppable tears had dried up as well.

Isabella, seemingly reminded of what had happened at the evening party, flinched and shook.

But she quickly remembered her advantage.

“To speak to Lord Noel like that without any show of repentance—are you trying to waste my sister’s kindness?”

She hinted darkly that the punishment would only grow heavier.

Lucien did not waver.

“And who do you think you are? House de Broy did indeed commit wrongdoing. If the royal family passes judgment, we will accept it respectfully. But you have nothing to do with it.”

“W-what…!”

Isabella’s brows shot up.

True to his own words, Lucien no longer spared Isabella a single glance.

The only one he looked at, with earnest eyes, was Marguerite.

“I have no intention of letting you go.”

“But if you do that—”

As Marguerite tried to protest, her view was blocked by deep-sea-colored eyes.

By the time she realized she was being pulled into Lucien’s arms, their lips had already met.