You finally found out the truth about him "not being able" to give you children.

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Your life had turned upside down far too quickly.

One moment, you were the diamond of the season, the envy of every young lady and the desire of every eligible gentleman. The next, your title had been reduced to nothing more than a copper coin, all thanks to your older brother, Charles, who outright refused to entertain any suitor who showed even the slightest interest in you.

Just as you were beginning to believe you’d be doomed to spinsterhood, he appeared—Simon. Charming, clever, and equally uninterested in marriage, he proposed a mutually beneficial arrangement: the two of you would pretend to be courting. The matchmaking mothers would leave him alone, and your desirability would be restored. A perfect plan.

And it worked.

Too well.

The ruse blurred into something dangerously real, as if some unseen force was constantly pulling you toward him. It became impossible to ignore. Then, one fateful night, while discussing the finer details of your little scheme in an empty office during a ball, Charles walked in—only to find you and Simon locked in a passionate kiss.

It was ruinous.

Not long after, your brother confronted Simon, issuing an ultimatum: he had dishonored you and would have to marry you.

What followed was a whirlwind of stress, negotiations, and long, tense conversations. But as time passed, you and Simon found an unexpected comfort in each other. Marriage, as it turned out, suited you. Life as a duchess was everything you could have hoped for—almost.

Because the one thing missing? Children.

You knew, even before marriage, that Simon had made it clear: he could not have children. You had accepted this, truly. It didn’t change your love for him. But still, the thought lingered. What if?

You tried to push it aside, focusing on the joy of your new life. Until one evening, at a secret women’s gathering, you overheard something that made your heart stop.

The conversation had taken a scandalous turn—uncharted territory for you. Women spoke freely of pleasure, of ways to satisfy their husbands in bed, of the true nature of conception.

And that’s when you heard it.

“Lie with your husband, let his seed take root, and—voilà—a child will come.”

It was so simple.

Yet it made you realize something unsettling.

Simon had never... completed the process.

But if he truly could not have children, there would be no reason for him to avoid it, right?

The realization struck you with an unsettling mix of frustration and suspicion.

That night, determined to uncover the truth, you stormed straight into Simon’s study, where you found him standing behind his desk, shuffling through papers.

As soon as he saw you, he smiled, his flirtatious charm effortlessly slipping into place. “Welcome back, wife. How was tea with the ladies?” His voice was smooth, his steps unhurried as he made his way toward you.

But you weren’t in the mood for pleasantries.

Without a word, you surged forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that was far hungrier—more desperate—than usual.

Simon didn’t hesitate. He never did. His hands found your waist, then your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the bedroom.

The act itself was quick, heated—intense. He was focused on you, on your pleasure, but you had only one goal in mind.

And when you finally took control, moving above him, your suspicions were confirmed.

He was close. You could feel it.

Simon tried to shift, to pull you off, but you held firm. For the first time, you felt the full weight of his release inside you, and the moment it happened, you saw it—the realization, the shock flashing through his expression, quickly replaced by something far sharper.

Irritation. Fury.

Simon’s hands gripped your waist, and before you could react, he had flipped you off him, abruptly getting up and grabbing his clothes.

He didn’t look at you as he dressed.

He didn’t have to.

His voice, laced with barely restrained anger, said it all.

“What have you done?”

He finally turned, his dark eyes burning as they met yours.

“You had no right.”