The Fruit of Immorality - Chapter 21

Chapter 21: The Fruit(Part 5)

Thanks to Alessandro’s gentle comfort, Beatrice was finally able to calm down. But once her emotions settled, practical concerns surfaced.

“What am I going to do…?”

Her voice was a low murmur, trembling through her lips.

“What if that woman comes into the mansion while carrying Charles’ child? What if Charles orders me to accept that child as my own? What will happen to me then…?”

Alessandro cupped her face in his hands, gently wiping away the tears that streaked her eyes with his thumb.

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything.”

Beatrice looked at him in silence. Somehow, Alessandro’s words made her feel like she really didn’t have to worry at all.

When had he become such a man? The boy who had once been smaller than her, young and immature, had grown into such a dependable man. She wondered what kind of experiences he had gone through and what kind of people he had met. But she quickly suppressed her curiosity.

Right now, he was hers. He was the man who could comfort and protect her.

Beatrice reached out and wrapped her arms around Alessandro’s neck, pressing soft kisses along his jaw as she seductively whispered, “Aless, hold me.”

“……”

“Put yourself inside me. Fuck me hard, fill me with your seed. Fill me until I’m pregnant with your child.”

Alessandro eagerly accepted her invitation.

His large body pressed down on Beatrice’s small frame as he kissed her deeply, devouring her lips. He thrust into her, giving her unfamiliar pleasure with every movement.

“Ah! Ahh! Haah!”

“… Hah…”

Their passionate lovemaking continued until long after Beatrice had fainted from exhaustion.

Alessandro held her limp waist as he slowly withdrew his still-hard member.

As his thick cock slipped out, the hole that had been tightly stretched around him gaped slightly, and thick, white liquid dripped from her entrance. He had released so much inside her that it continued to spill out for a long time.

Alessandro slid his fingers inside her, gently scooping out the remaining semen, then carefully wiped her down with a damp cloth.

He carried Beatrice to the clean side of the bed, laying her down on fresh sheets before standing up straight.

Normally, he would have climbed into bed beside her, holding her as they both drifted off to sleep. But tonight was different.

Alessandro strode toward the wall, opposite the bed.

On that wall hung a large portrait. It was an unremarkable painting, and only direct relatives knew the secret it concealed.

Creak. Thud!

Alessandro shifted the painting aside, revealing a hidden passage behind it.

…Inside was Charles, bound tightly with rope.

His limbs were tied, and a gag was stuffed in his mouth. Bloodshot eyes glared out from his red, furious face as he watched his shameless brother, who had dared to covet his wife.

***

Charles couldn’t believe what was happening.

First, he had been ambushed and knocked unconscious. When he woke up, the first thing he saw was the affair between his wife and his brother.

And his wife—the woman who was pregnant with his child—was committing adultery right before his eyes. It was a miracle that she was even pregnant, something he had never thought possible.

…Because Charles Clasis was sterile.

He had found out after reaching adulthood. The memory of the utter despair he felt when he was diagnosed with sterility was still fresh in his mind.

He had lived his life as someone who was always successful. Born as the heir of the Clasis dukedom, he had been endowed with both wealth and power from birth, and had inherited his parents’ perfect appearance as well.

He had lived a life others envied, and Charles took that for granted. It was natural for him to receive admiration and jealousy alike. He had never once felt any sense of inferiority.

He was that kind of man. Superior to others, never lacking in anything.

And yet,

Despite living such a life, destined to die the same way,

…He had an incurable flaw—sterility.

It was impossible to believe. He didn’t want to believe it. But no matter how many women he slept with, not a single one bore his child.

After the doctor’s fatal diagnosis, he had gone through a long period of despair, screaming and lamenting before finally accepting the truth.

But he couldn’t reveal it to anyone.

He couldn’t bear it. The idea of his reputation being completely overturned, the looks of admiration turning to contempt, and the smiles directed at him becoming smirks of mockery.

He couldn’t tolerate seeing those he looked down upon become smug and superior, boasting that they had something he didn’t.

And so, he devised a plan to hide the truth forever.

He carefully chose his wife. Someone easy to manipulate, who would blame herself for not having a child, rather than him.

After a short search, Beatrice caught his eye.

Young and introverted, she had lived her life oppressed by her tyrannical father. When she married, the man she would obey without question would shift from her father to her husband.

Charles brought up a fabricated story of a promise between their ancestors, and the marriage was easily arranged. After all, no one would refuse a marriage with the House of Clasis.

It took a little time for the marriage to happen, as Beatrice had to come of age. Only then did Charles bring her to his mansion.

Until then, he didn’t waste time. During their long engagement, Charles worked hard to “tame” her.

Seducing a naive girl who had never met a man outside her family was ridiculously easy.

The fact that his fiancée had fallen completely in love with him was boring, and Charles quickly lost interest.

Still, there were times when she piqued his interest.

When her plump breasts brushed against his body by accident, or when her red tongue peeked out to wet her lips, he would feel a sudden, unfamiliar sensation in his lower body.

Since she was still too young to be taken to bed, he sought out women who resembled her to satisfy his desires.

When their wedding night finally arrived, Charles didn’t even bother to properly prepare her, taking her roughly to fulfill his long-standing lust.

For a while after their marriage, he was obsessed with her body.

But sleeping with a woman who trembled with fear during sex wasn’t enjoyable for long. Charles soon brought other women into his bed.

However, he never completely let go of Beatrice.

He made sure to sleep with her regularly, though he never ejaculated inside her. Even if they couldn’t have a child, it couldn’t be his fault, so he made sure to prevent such a possibility from the start.

His plan worked perfectly.

No one knew about the private details of their marital bed—that he never released inside her—so when Beatrice failed to conceive, people pointed fingers at her. They assumed she was the problem.

It was common for women to bear the blame when a couple couldn’t have children.

Moreover, her husband was none other than Charles Clasis. To them, Beatrice, who had been insignificant before the engagement, was unworthy of such a great man.

In the eyes of society, Beatrice was weak and an easy target for criticism. So, when no heir appeared between the Clasis couple, everyone naturally blamed her.

The fact that not a single one of Charles’ countless mistresses had borne a child didn’t raise any suspicions about him.

Instead, people admired him. They praised his carefulness in avoiding illegitimate children, complimenting his thoroughness in managing such matters.

Thanks to this, Charles was free to indulge in his promiscuity without any repercussions.

The inferiority complex that stemmed from his infertility manifested itself in his rough treatment of women. He never ejaculated inside them, either.

From time to time, there would be women who tried to bring children to him, claiming them as his.

Whenever that happened, Charles didn’t hesitate to reject them ruthlessly. How dare they bring me a child that looks nothing like me?

But deep down…

Deep down, he harbored a faint hope.

It was such a faint hope that even he wasn’t aware of it.

It was only when he heard the news of Beatrice’s pregnancy that this hidden hope began to grow.

Perhaps the doctor had been wrong. Perhaps he had been mistaken all this time. Maybe, after all, he was capable of fathering a child, just like any other man.

…Such hope.

Beatrice played a significant role in shaping this belief in Charles’s mind. He knew his wife well. She was timid and meek—a woman who would never dare have an affair with another man.

He was aware that she had changed recently: the dreamy look on her face, as if she were thinking of someone else, her brightened complexion, the way she dressed up more than before, and the gentle smile she sometimes wore.

As a man who had been with many women, Charles recognized these signs—they were the signals of a woman in love.

However, he thought it ended there. Beatrice might have harbored feelings for someone, but he was confident she hadn’t acted on them. After all, she hardly left the mansion.

The possibility that the man she cared for was someone within the estate crossed his mind, but with servants’ eyes everywhere, Charles convinced himself that it had gone no further than quiet glances. He naively believed she had not gone so far as to kiss another man, share intimate moments, or engage in more animalistic acts.

Still, even the mere thought was enough to disgust him. The idea that his wife—his possession—had set her eyes and heart on another man twisted his mood. In response, he tightened his grip on her, suffocating her with his control…

Yet, Charles was certain of one thing: his wife had not lain with another man or carried another man’s seed in her womb.

Which meant…

The child she was carrying had to be his.

When he first heard the news of Beatrice’s pregnancy, Charles naturally assumed the child was his. The timing had lined up perfectly. The one mistake he had made—his first and last—had, by some stroke of luck, resulted in a pregnancy.

The unexpected situation left Charles feeling bewildered, suspicious, and confused. But he was also filled with undeniable joy, a feeling that overwhelmed him.

The reason he had distanced himself from his pregnant wife was because he still hadn’t fully processed his emotions. He couldn’t quite believe that a problem which had plagued him for half his life had been solved so easily, and by the very woman he had so often disregarded.

This left him feeling unsettled, and so he avoided her.

But as time passed, the confusion began to fade, and Charles started to see Beatrice in a different light. She was now the mother of his child, and he began to feel a newfound affection for her.

That’s why, when he saw Beatrice’s pale face as she told him that a mistress had come forward claiming to carry his child, he felt pity.

The child may have been a bastard born of a lowly woman, but it still carried his blood. He would have to provide some means for them to live.