“I’ll help your father get out early.” I will pay off the debts. Your family will no longer need anything. Just marry me and give me a son. I’ll die in a year anyway.
He spoke as if he were discussing the purchase of land.
The girl was silent. She looked at his face, his confidence, and suddenly she felt sorry for him. Forty years. Rich. And yet alone. He reiterated that the doctors gave him a year of life at most.
She accepted. Not for the money, at least that’s what he convinced himself. Either way, he would die in a year. Her father would be released, her mother would receive treatment. What did he have to lose?The wedding was quick and quiet.
But on their wedding night, something happened that terrified her so much that the next morning she ran away from home.
When her husband fell asleep, she could not close her eyes. The house seemed foreign and cold to her. He got up to walk down the corridor and accidentally noticed a light in the office. The door was slightly ajar.
On the desk lay documents.
She didn’t intend to read other people’s papers, but her eyes caught on familiar words—date, signature, clinic seal. She slowly approached.
That was the medical conclusion of a few months ago: the state of health was satisfactory, the prognosis favorable. There was not a word of deadly disease.Next to him lay another document, a contract with a lawyer. It said that if a child is born, all property passes to the heir. If a child does not appear, after a year the marriage is dissolved, and she is left with nothing.
It was later revealed that a wealthy relative had left him a huge inheritance, but on one condition: he was to become a father within a year.
He had used it. He’d lied to her, he’d pressed on her pity, and then he’d just throw her away as a useless thing.
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