The Fruit of Immorality - Chapter 20

Chapter 20: The Fruit (Part 4)

Beatrice had long known about her husband’s notorious infidelities. The women who had warmed his bed ranged from maids in the mansion to noblewomen of higher status than herself—so many that she couldn’t even remember all their faces.

That’s why, even when faced with the situation in front of her, she wasn’t too surprised. What disturbed her was the audacity of this mistress, boldly coming to the mansion and seeking her out, treating Beatrice with such blatant disrespect.

As Beatrice observed the woman, she found herself wondering.

If this was the woman Charles had been seeing recently, it must mean that this was his current preference. Was there any similarity between her and this woman?

…She couldn’t tell.

Whether they were similar or not, it would make her feel awful either way.

If they were alike, Beatrice would feel miserable knowing that a woman like her had received Charles’ love, while she had been ignored for eight years.

If they weren’t alike, then Beatrice would feel as though she hadn’t even been good enough to match his preferences, enduring eight years of neglect because of it.

Lost in thought, Beatrice barely registered the woman’s chattering. But the final sentence, spoken with smug satisfaction, echoed clearly in her ears.

“…Because I’m carrying the Duke’s child.”

***

The woman fell silent after announcing her pregnancy through her relationship with Charles. But her arrogant demeanor, with her chin held high, remained.

Her self-confidence suggested that she had someone reliable backing her—someone who would protect her no matter what.

Even a fool could guess who that reliable person was. The master of the mansion, Duke Charles Clasis.

Beatrice pressed her fingers against her throbbing forehead. Her head ached.

But she couldn’t just let the woman leave without understanding the situation. She couldn’t be caught off guard by what might come next.

Steeling herself, Beatrice gestured for the butler and knights to step back. She needed to know what was really going on.

“What did you say?”

Beatrice’s voice was tense, her nerves raw. The woman, seemingly understanding Beatrice’s sensitivity, spoke again.

“Charles—oh.”

She pretended to have misspoken and corrected herself with an exaggerated show of respect.

“I mean, His Grace, the Duke, has been visiting me once a month. We’ve shared many nights together, without regard for day or night. But two months ago, I missed my monthly visitor and summoned a doctor, and…”

With a coy smile, the woman placed her hands over her flat belly and added, “They said it was the fruit of our love.”

Beatrice’s hands began to tremble, and the woman standing before her noticed immediately. Her eyes trailed from Beatrice’s quivering hands to her large, swollen belly.

With a mocking smile, the woman added, “I always wanted my child to have many siblings. It seems this child will have an older brother or sister, assuming yours is born safely.”

Beatrice’s face turned pale. She couldn’t tell if her heart was racing or sinking. Either way, she was no longer in control of herself.

Seeing how shaken Beatrice was, the woman felt triumphant. She had always hated how Beatrice looked down on her, hiding behind the title of duchess, despite being treated like an afterthought by her own husband.

Drunk on her sense of victory, the woman went too far. “Charles was always so worried about not having an heir. He often said that if I gave him a child, he would bring me into the mansion as his wife. That’s why I came today, to see if he remembers that promise.”

It was a lie. Charles had never said such a thing, not even in jest. But the woman maintained her innocent expression as she finished her story.

Even though her words were nothing but a lie, Beatrice couldn’t bring herself to doubt them.

The woman’s statement kept echoing in Beatrice’s mind.

He would bring her in as his wife? That means…

Beatrice took a deep breath. Her worst fears, the nightmares that had haunted her for so long, were becoming reality. She would be cast aside, replaced by this woman. And this woman’s child would take her own child’s rightful place.

The world spun around her, and Beatrice staggered. Alessandro, who had been silently listening nearby, stepped forward and caught her as she swayed. He glared at the woman who had dared to threaten Beatrice, his eyes cold and menacing.

The woman instinctively shrank back in fear. Alessandro’s icy gaze, sharpened by the experience of countless battlefields, was enough to take her breath away.

“I’ve heard enough.”

With a snap of his fingers, Alessandro summoned the knights who had been standing by. They rushed over and grabbed the woman, who struggled in their grip as they dragged her out of the room.

Silence filled the space as the commotion died down, leaving only Beatrice, Alessandro, and the butler in the living room. The air was thick with tension.

The butler dared not speak first, nervously waiting for Beatrice’s reaction. Alessandro, his eyes still dark and stormy, watched Beatrice closely. And Beatrice…

“Aah.”

Her trembling legs gave out completely. Her eyes fluttered shut as her body slumped to the side.

“Madam!”

“Bea!”

Both the butler and Alessandro called out in alarm, but Beatrice didn’t respond. She had no strength left, unable to move a muscle. Even opening her eyes or moving her lips was beyond her.

In Alessandro’s strong arms, Beatrice’s consciousness faded completely.

***

Beatrice woke up hours later, her body trembling as she hugged herself in the dimly lit bedroom. Only faint moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

The memories of what had happened before she passed out, and the thoughts that had consumed her before she lost consciousness, weighed heavily on her.

She kept envisioning a bleak future where Charles’ mistress would take over the mansion, and she and her unborn child would be cast out.

It felt unbearably cold. Shivering like someone who had fallen into icy water, Beatrice wrapped her arms tightly around herself. But no matter how tightly she hugged her body, she couldn’t shake the chill.

With her head buried in her knees, Beatrice wasted time wallowing in her anxiety and fear.

Eventually, when she heard that Charles had returned, she rushed downstairs, her hair disheveled, dark circles under her eyes, her lips cracked and swollen, and her appearance disordered.

Charles frowned at her disheveled state. “Dear? What on earth—”

“Charles!”

Before he could finish scolding her, Beatrice, gasping for breath, explained everything that had happened. She told him about the woman who had visited the mansion, claiming to be pregnant with his child and demanding he take responsibility.

When she finished, Charles scowled. “She said it’s my child?”

“Yes. She claimed that you were her first and that she had never been with another man. She swore it must be your child,” Beatrice spoke through gritted teeth, barely containing her anger.

“That’s impossible—”

Charles started to deny it, but when he saw Beatrice’s swollen belly, he fell silent.

He rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

Beatrice felt her anger boil. What on earth is he thinking? Is he going to offer some excuse? Or is he going to tell me to accept the woman and her child, just like he’s always expected me to tolerate his mistresses?

As her thoughts spiraled, Beatrice became even more terrified.

What would happen if he brought that woman and her child into the mansion? Would her own child lose their place as Charles’ heir? Would that woman become the new duchess, and would she, Beatrice, be cast aside?

Old fears resurfaced, gripping her heart with panic. Beatrice began biting her nails, tearing at them until blood seeped out from beneath them. It wasn’t until Charles spoke again that she snapped out of it.

“…I’ll take care of it.”

“How? How will you handle this?”

Beatrice glared at him with dry, lifeless eyes. Avoiding her gaze, Charles grabbed his coat and hurriedly left the mansion.

Beatrice, overwhelmed by a mix of anger and anxiety, could barely stand. Her worst fears were becoming a reality.

Just as she felt like she might collapse again, Alessandro appeared and caught her.

“Calm down, Bea.”

“A-Aless, Aless…”

Beatrice clung to him desperately, gripping his shirt so tightly that it wrinkled in her hands. But Alessandro didn’t mind. He gently pulled her into his arms, holding her trembling body.

As he softly stroked her back, Beatrice gradually regained her composure.

But even though her body calmed, the flames of rage still burned in her eyes.

“I hate him.”

Beatrice’s voice was filled with resentment.

“I hate him so much!”

Alessandro remained silent, continuing to soothe her by rubbing her back. Beatrice rested her forehead against his firm chest.

“I wish I had married you.”

She gasped out the words between sobs.

“If you had been my husband, I would have been so much happier, Aless. If I had married you… if I had…”

If she hadn’t married Charles, she wouldn’t have endured the ridicule, contempt, and cold indifference she had suffered for so many years. Her heart wouldn’t have withered away from all the neglect.

She wouldn’t have been forced into this dishonest relationship with Alessandro, hiding their affair from the world.

She wouldn’t have made such selfish choices, and she wouldn’t have lived in constant fear of her infidelity being discovered.

She could have remained pure and innocent, like the young girl she once was.

If only she hadn’t married Charles. If only…

But it was all wishful thinking. Beatrice couldn’t even finish her sentence before she broke down in tears.

Alessandro tightened his arms around her. His embrace was so firm that it almost felt suffocating, but it was comforting. Beatrice buried her face in his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears.

Alessandro gently stroked the back of her head, his touch tender. Then he whispered softly, “Don’t worry, Bea. I’ll make sure everything happens just as you want.”

A hidden gleam of satisfaction flickered in his eyes—something Beatrice would never know.