Dante's POV
I can't sleep.
It's 3 AM and I'm sitting in my office, staring at the breeding contract my grandfather's lawyers created. The plan is perfect on paper: marry Elena, get her pregnant within six months, divorce after the child is born, pay the settlement, keep the heir.
Simple. Clean. Legal.
So why do I feel like I swallowed broken glass?
I can still hear Elena's crying from the guest room. She's been sobbing for hours—quiet, broken sounds that seep under the door and crawl into my head. I turned up the music in my office to drown it out, but somehow I still hear her.
"She knew this was business," I tell the empty room. "I didn't lie about what this was."
Except I did. I lied about everything. The flowers, the dates, the proposal—all calculated moves to trap her. And she fell for it because she was desperate and lonely and stupid enough to believe in love.
Just like my father.
I pour another whiskey, trying to wash away the image of Elena's face when I told her the truth. The way her honey eyes went dead. The way she begged me to stop and I didn't.
I did what needed to be done. That's all.
My phone buzzes with a text from my grandfather: "Is it done? Is she pregnant yet?"
I type back: "Too soon to tell. Following the schedule."
His response is immediate: "Good. Don't get soft, Dante. That girl is a means to an end. Remember what emotions did to your father."
I set down the phone and open the file my investigator compiled on Elena. Every detail of her sad, powerless life is documented here.
Mother died of cancer two years ago. Elena dropped out of her university to care for her, then couldn't afford to go back. She's drowning in medical debt from treatments that didn't work. Works two jobs while taking community college classes. Lives in a apartment where the heat barely works.
I chose her specifically because she had nothing to lose and everything to gain from this arrangement. Ten million dollars would change her entire life. She should be grateful.
So why does reading her file make me feel like a monster?
The sun rises and I haven't moved from my desk. I hear Elena's door open, hear her footsteps in the hallway. She's probably looking for coffee, for food, for something normal to hold onto.
I should stay in my office. Keep my distance. This works better if I don't see her outside of scheduled breeding sessions.
But my traitorous feet carry me to the kitchen.
Elena is standing at the counter in the robe I left for her, staring at the coffee maker like she doesn't know how it works. Her eyes are swollen from crying. There are bruises on her neck from where I gripped too hard last night.
Guilt twists in my gut. I push it down.
"There's food in the refrigerator," I say coldly. "Help yourself."
She flinches at my voice but doesn't turn around. "I want to go home."
"This is your home now."
"This is a prison." Her voice is hollow, empty of everything that made her Elena. "Let me go, Dante. Please. I won't tell anyone about the contract. I'll just disappear."
"No."
"Why?" She finally turns to face me, and the look in her eyes makes my chest tight. "You got what you wanted last night. Just let me leave."
"It doesn't work like that. We repeat the process until you're pregnant. Then you carry the child to term. Then we divorce. Those are the terms."
"The terms." She laughs, and it sounds broken. "You talk about our marriage like it's a business merger."
"Because it is." I force my voice to stay cold. "I told you that from the beginning."
"No, you told me you loved me. You told me I was special. You made me believe—" Her voice cracks. "How can you be so cruel?"
The question hits harder than it should. How can I be so cruel? Because my grandfather trained me to be. Because emotions killed my parents. Because the only way to survive in my world is to feel nothing.
"I did what was necessary," I say. "You'll understand eventually. Ten million dollars, Elena. That's what you get when this is over. You'll never have to work again. Your mother's medical debts will be cleared. You'll be set for life."
"I don't want your money!" She's crying again, tears streaming down her face. "I wanted you. The man I thought you were. The man who held my hand and asked about my dreams and made me feel like I mattered."
"That man doesn't exist." The words taste like poison. "He was a role I played to achieve a goal. Nothing more."
Elena stares at me for a long moment. Then she does something unexpected—she walks over and slaps me hard across the face.
The sound echoes in the quiet kitchen.
"That man does exist," she says, her voice shaking but strong. "I saw him. In little moments when you forgot to be cold. When you smiled at my stupid jokes. When you looked at me like I was precious. He's in there somewhere, buried under all this ice. And I feel sorry for you, Dante Moretti, because you're so scared of being your father that you've become something worse."
She walks away before I can respond, leaving me standing there with my cheek stinging and her words ringing in my ears.
You've become something worse.
The next two weeks are hell.
I schedule Elena's breeding sessions according to the fertility doctor's chart—every other day during her peak ovulation window. Each time, she lies there like a corpse, staring at nothing while I do what needs to be done.
She doesn't cry anymore. Doesn't beg. Doesn't fight.
She's just... empty.
And somehow that's worse than her tears.
My grandfather visits on day ten, demanding updates. He finds Elena in the guest room, reading a book and ignoring the expensive clothes I bought her.
"Good hips," he says, examining her like livestock again. "Should breed well. Has she conceived yet?"
"We'll know in a few days," I tell him, pulling him away before he can say something worse.
"Make sure she eats properly. Takes vitamins. We can't risk a miscarriage." He pats my shoulder. "You're doing well, Dante. Your father would be proud."
No, he wouldn't. My father would be horrified.
The thought comes from nowhere and I can't shake it loose.
On day fourteen, Elena takes the pregnancy test.
I wait outside the bathroom door, listening to her move around. My heart is pounding for reasons I don't understand. This is good news if she's pregnant. The plan is working. I should be relieved.
The door opens. Elena stands there with the test in her hand, her face white as paper.
"I'm pregnant," she whispers.
Something that should be triumph feels like doom.
"Good," I say, my voice mechanical. "I'll inform the doctors. You'll start prenatal care immediately."
"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Her hand unconsciously touches her flat stomach. "There's a baby growing inside me. Your baby. Our baby."
"The heir," I correct. "That's what this is about."
"No." She looks at me with something like pity. "This is a human being. A life. And you can't even acknowledge that."
She walks past me, and I catch her arm. "Elena—"
"Don't touch me." She jerks away, and for the first time, I see not sadness in her eyes but rage. "You got what you wanted, Dante. I'm pregnant. Now leave me alone until you need me for the next scheduled breeding session."
She disappears into the guest room and locks the door.
I stand in the empty hallway, staring at that closed door, and feel something crack in my chest.
My phone buzzes. A text from Vivienne: "Heard you got the nobody pregnant. Congratulations. When you're done with her, call me."
I delete the message and pour another drink.
That night, I dream about my mother.
She's holding me when I'm small, singing a lullaby. My father watches with a soft smile. They're happy. In love. Doomed.
"Don't make my mistakes," my mother whispers. "Don't confuse survival with living."
I wake up gasping, covered in sweat.
Down the hall, I hear Elena throwing up—morning sickness starting already.
I should check on her. Make sure she's okay. The baby is valuable.
But I don't move.
Because if I go to her now, if I show any weakness, I might not be able to finish what I started.
And I have to finish it. I have no other choice.
My phone lights up with a message from my investigator: "Sir, you need to see this. Elena's medical records show something important."
A file downloads. I open it.
And what I read makes my blood run cold.
Elena's mother didn't just die of cancer. She died because Elena couldn't afford the experimental treatment that might have saved her. The treatment cost exactly ten million dollars—the same amount I'm paying Elena in the settlement.
She didn't marry me for love.
She married me for the money to save her dying mother.
But by the time we met, her mother was already dead.
Which means Elena married me knowing she'd get nothing she actually wanted.
She really did believe I loved her.
And I destroyed her for absolutely nothing.