The Fruit of Immorality - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: The Fruit (Part 1)

The butler was startled, and Charles watched him impassively. The butler swallowed nervously before answering.

“N-No, sir. The madam has kept to herself as always, avoiding any contact with outsiders.”

“Are you sure?” Charles tilted his head slightly. “Surely, she wouldn’t openly flaunt her infidelity. Are you sure she didn’t secretly meet anyone behind your back?”

“…Madam behaved as usual, with no changes in her routine,” the butler insisted, despite the cold sweat trickling down his back.

But how could he be honest?

How could he tell Charles that Alessandro and Beatrice had grown close in his absence, that Alessandro had often followed her into her chambers, or that there were clear signs of intimacy whenever Alessandro visited her room?

If he told the truth…

“I see.”

Charles, tired of the butler’s evasiveness, waved his hand dismissively. His face twisted with irritation at receiving no useful information. Relieved, the butler quickly excused himself from the uncomfortable situation.

“I shall take my leave.”

As he left the office, the butler briefly wondered if he had made the wrong choice.

But the idea of telling the truth didn’t seem like a better option. He didn’t want to cause unnecessary conflict in the mansion based on uncertain suspicions.

Moreover, he didn’t want to see the madam, who had finally begun to recover from years of sorrow, return to her former miserable state. For eight long years, the butler had witnessed her gradual descent into sadness, and the thought of her deteriorating again made him uneasy.

Despite his initial reservations about Beatrice, serving her for eight years had made him develop a fondness for her. Watching her suffer from Charles’ cold neglect had been a burden on him as well. He had even worried that he might one day find her dead from despair.

Now that she seemed happier, the butler didn’t want to ruin that.

After all, his master, Charles Clasis, constantly indulged in women, both inside and outside the mansion.

Compared to Charles’ debauchery, the madam’s brief indiscretion seemed insignificant.

But deep down, the butler knew he was only making excuses.

The real reason he hadn’t reported Beatrice and Alessandro’s affair was…

The butler recalled Alessandro’s cold, predatory gaze, the one that had silently threatened him. The young man had quietly summoned him and issued a grave warning.

Alessandro Clasis was no longer the weak boy he once knew. He was now a powerful man, capable of crushing the butler’s remaining days with a single command.

The ruthless cruelty Alessandro had displayed on the battlefield hadn’t faded.

The butler swallowed his rising fear, his legs trembling from just the memory of Alessandro’s intimidation. His duty to the master was overshadowed by the immense terror Alessandro had instilled in him.

***

Charles finished his prepared meal and washed up, but his nerves, already on edge since the office meeting, didn’t settle. His steps felt heavy as he made his way to the marital bedroom.

His foul mood could only be resolved through intense physical exertion, and luckily, he had a perfectly obedient partner waiting for him at home.

However, when Charles grabbed Beatrice by the wrist, she resisted his advances.

“I-I can’t… It’s that time of the month…”

Charles frowned, and Beatrice cowered under his gaze. He stared at her for a moment before speaking, “Then use your breasts.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Beatrice was surprised. She had expected him to turn to another woman. But despite her confusion, she approached him.

Charles turned her around, undoing the tightly secured strings of her dress. He pulled down the loosened fabric, removing her layers of undergarments.

Her pale, rounded breasts were exposed. Charles fondled them, savoring the soft texture before pressing them together.

“Hold them like this.”

“Ah…”

Though she wrinkled her nose in discomfort, Beatrice obeyed, pushing her breasts together. Charles undid his belt, his already erect penis sliding between the tight cleavage.

“Ha…”

He thrust into the narrow space between her breasts, but the friction against her dry skin caused more discomfort than pleasure.

Frowning, Charles pulled out and stood up, retrieving scented oil from the bedside drawer.

The strong fragrance filled the air as he poured the oil over her breasts, her stomach, and her legs.

“Now it’ll be better.”

Muttering to himself, Charles pushed his cock back between her now slick breasts. His large member throbbed, brushing against her chin with every movement.

“Open your mouth.”

Charles commanded in a low voice. Beatrice parted her lips slightly, allowing his cock to slide in and out. Her soft, slippery breasts and wet mouth rubbed against him, intensifying his pleasure.

“Hah…”

It didn’t take long for Charles to reach his climax. Thick semen spurted onto Beatrice’s face, covering her forehead, nose, lips, and chin.

As Beatrice hesitated, unsure what to do with the semen on her lips, Charles smiled and said, “Swallow it.”

“…Ugh…”

Beatrice, on the verge of tears, obediently swallowed the bitter, unpleasant liquid.

Her relationship with Alessandro had been so sweet in comparison. Charles’ harsh and loveless treatment, once familiar, now felt unbearably bitter.

Swallowing her tears, Beatrice lowered her head. Even her eyelashes were stained with his sticky semen.

Charles, relaxing on the sofa, narrowed his eyes and observed her closely.

He couldn’t put his finger on it yet, but something had definitely changed about her.

He thought to himself, It’s time for a warning.

“Bea.”

“……”

“You know, there’s been a lot of talk about you. People are saying I should get rid of my current duchess and find a new one. Someone who’s healthy, capable of managing the household, and, most importantly, able to give me an heir. They’re advising me to marry a younger, more beautiful, and more competent woman in your place.”

Beatrice lifted her head, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

“But… but that’s because you…”

“If you were to make a mistake—like secretly engaging in an affair with another man—I wouldn’t be able to protect you anymore.”

“……”

“Of course, I trust you wouldn’t do such a thing.”

Charles gently stroked her cheek, as if praising an obedient pet.

Watching her tremble under his touch, Charles was satisfied.

“Still, be careful. Even the smallest spark can lead to a wildfire. It’s best to extinguish any suspicion from the start.”

“……”

Beatrice didn’t respond, but Charles stroked her bowed head, confident that things would go his way, just as they always had.

Not knowing that Beatrice’s face was distorted with resentment and anger.

***

With each passing day, Alessandro’s face grew darker, his eyes sinking deeper. Whenever he saw Charles and Beatrice together, looking intimate, he barely contained his fury before storming out of the room.

Beatrice was aware of this but couldn’t bring herself to care. She had other things to worry about—her body felt worse than ever.

Her body felt as if someone were dragging her down, weighed heavily by an invisible force. No matter how much she slept, drowsiness relentlessly returned, and fatigue clung to her like a shadow, always hovering over her shoulders.

Despite barely being able to manage her own body, she still had to fulfill her duties as Charles’ wife, satisfying him in bed. Avoiding it wasn’t an option. If she couldn’t handle penetration, she had to satisfy him with her mouth, hands, or even her breasts.

Any concern for Alessandro had been pushed aside. She rationalized that focusing on him would drive her mad, telling herself it was the only way to cope.

Then one day, while sitting in front of a plate of eggs—one of her favorite dishes—Beatrice suddenly felt nauseous. The smell of the food made her stomach turn, and tears welled up in her eyes.

“Ugh! Ugh!”

She vomited repeatedly, but nothing came up except clear bile. Weak and drained, Beatrice collapsed onto the bed, her breaths shallow.

Charles scowled at her pale, lifeless appearance, while Alessandro silently stayed by her side.

Given the circumstances, even Charles couldn’t separate them this time.

To Charles’s satisfaction, the doctor, called in shortly after, put a stop to the situation between them, stepping in to examine Beatrice. His expression was serious as he began his examination. After all, the patient was none other than the duchess, and giving a careless diagnosis could lead to dire consequences.

Behind him, Alessandro watched nervously, pressing for answers.

“How is it? It’s not something serious, is it?”

How odd that it was the husband’s brother asking with such concern, while Charles, the actual husband, sat on the sofa, unable to hide his boredom, casually tapping his foot. The doctor, puzzled but professional, assured them to wait a moment as he continued his examination.

“This is…”

The doctor’s face brightened as he realized why Beatrice had been so weak and bedridden. She wasn’t sick—far from it. This was cause for celebration. He had heard rumors that the Duchess of Clasis had been unable to conceive, and now, after eight long years, she had finally achieved what she had desired.

“So, what is it? Why has Bea been struggling so much?” 

The doctor hesitated for a moment, glancing behind Alessandro. Ideally, the husband should be the first to hear this news. But the Duke of Clasis, who had been lounging on the sofa moments before, had already left the room.

In that case, the person who cared more for Beatrice—Alessandro—would hear it first. After all, what difference did it make who learned the news first, as long as it was good news?

With a raised voice, the doctor made his announcement, “The Duchess is pregnant.”