Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 221

Chapter 221: The Goddess of Revenge (11)
Ricardo sat in the cold darkness of the dungeon, his body slumped against the damp stone wall. The chains around his wrists and ankles had long since bruised his skin, but he barely noticed the pain anymore. It was nothing compared to the torment clawing at his mind.

He had spent countless hours, perhaps days, weeks, or even months, reliving every mistake, every betrayal, every moment he had chosen the wrong path. If there was a medicine for regret, he would have swallowed it whole, no matter how bitter, no matter how painful.

But regret was an affliction without a cure, and he was infected beyond salvation. Fiorensia’s words echoed in his head like a relentless curse. You swore to make me happy. And yet, you did the exact opposite.

He had done the opposite. He had taken the one person who had given him everything and discarded her like she was worth nothing. Now, stripped of his title, his pride, and his illusions, he finally understood that he had never been the master of his fate.

He had been a fool, a coward, a man who had let jealousy and ambition rot away whatever good might have once existed in his heart. His fingers trembled as they curled into fists.

What had he been thinking back then? Would Lotisia make him happier than Fiorensia? That the love of a woman who whispered sweet lies in his ear was worth more than the unwavering strength of the wife he had abandoned?

He had thought Fiorensia was too cold, too distant, too calculating. But looking back now, he realized the truth. She had been the only person who had ever truly understood him.

She had seen his weakness and had given him the power to stand on his own. She had guided him when he was lost, given him a purpose when he had none. And what had he done to repay her? He had thrown her away for a woman who had poisoned his mind with flattery.

Lotisia had never loved him. She had used him. She had whispered venomous words, feeding his doubts, making him believe that Fiorensia was the enemy, that she was cruel, that she was the reason he felt so small in his own house.

But the truth was, he had made himself small. He had always been the weakest of his brothers, and instead of fighting to become stronger, he had resented them.

Instead of proving himself worthy of his position, he had let his insecurities control him. He had wanted someone to blame, and Fiorensia had been an easy target. She had been powerful, untouchable, and he had hated that.

Because she had never needed him the way he needed her. Ricardo let out a shuddering breath, his vision blurring. If he had just once, just once, swallowed his pride and asked her how she truly felt, would things have been different?

If he had set aside his envy, if he had trusted her instead of believing the lies Lotisia fed him, would she have stayed? Would she have loved him? He would never know. And that was the greatest torment of all. His mind replayed every moment, every decision, every time he had chosen wrong.

The first time he had raised his voice at her, accusing her of being heartless. The time he had refused to listen when she told him to be patient, that power was not something given but earned.

The way he had stood silent when Lotisia had insulted her, too much of a coward to defend the woman who had once saved him. And worst of all, the moment he had signed the decree stripping Fiorensia of her title as Duchess.

He had thought he was securing his future, that removing her would make his life easier. With her gone, he would no longer feel the weight of his own failures pressing down on him.

But all he had done was tear apart the foundation that had held everything together. His sons. Riezekiel, Rohzivaan, and Richmond. How had they suffered because of his choices? How much had they lost because of him?

Fiorensia had loved them. That much was clear now. He had believed Lotisia when she said Fiorensia had never cared for them, that she saw them only as tools. But that had been another lie, another deception he had swallowed too easily.

Fiorensia had left them, yes. But now he understood. She had left because he had given her no choice. Because he had made it impossible for her to stay. A sob escaped his throat before he could stop it. He had never cried for her before.

Not when he banished her, not when she disappeared from his life. He had been too proud, too blind to see the hole she had left behind. But now, sitting in this wretched cell, he wept like a man whose soul had been stripped bare.

He had destroyed the only person who had ever truly been on his side. He could blame no one but himself. The irony was cruel. He had spent his whole life feeling like a victim, believing that fate had cheated him. But in the end, he was not the victim. He was the villain.

He deserved this. Every ounce of pain, every moment of suffering. If Fiorensia wanted him to rot here, he would. If she wanted to torment him, he would accept it. If she wanted him to die, he would not resist. Because he had already lost everything. But there was one thing he wanted before the end.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry. Not for the sake of forgiveness. Not to lessen his own guilt. Just because she deserved to hear it. Even if she never accepted it, even if she never looked at him again, he wanted her to know, he finally understood.

That he had been wrong. That he had failed her. That he had betrayed not only her but himself. Ricardo clenched his teeth, his nails digging into his skin. The pain grounded him, kept him from drowning in the weight of his own thoughts.

There was no medicine for regret. No cure for the mistakes he had made. But there was one truth he could cling to. Fiorensia had won. She had taken back what he had stolen. She had crushed the legacy he had built on lies.

She had stripped him of everything he thought made him powerful. And she had done it without ever needing to lift a sword against him. She had simply let him destroy himself.

He let out a breath that felt more like a broken prayer. For the first time in his life, Ricardo Mors accepted his fate.