Zoya stared at Jaffery as if he had turned into someone she no longer knew.
"Jaffery… have you lost your mind?" Her voice trembled. "How can you even ask me to do something like this?"
But Jaffery didn't flinch. He spoke with the calmness.
"Zoya, what's so wrong about it? I'm your husband. If I don't have a problem, then why should you?"
She stepped back, shaking her head. "No. I will never do this. I don't care what you say."
A cold smile touched his lips.
"Then what do you want? The entire world to know that Baron Jaffery Velisar is impotent?"
Zoya felt the air leave her lungs.
"Jaffery, please don't—"
"Our marriage has been three years," he cut her off sharply. "And we still have no child. Even the servants whisper behind our backs."
"If you want a child so badly," she whispered desperately, "we can adopt one from the orphanage. Just don't force me into something like this."
"There is no point in adopting," he said firmly. "I want a child born from my wife. Unless you give birth, how will people believe the child is mine?"
Zoya lowered her eyes. "But…"
"No buts, Zoya." His tone hardened. "We have no other choice. And you don't need to be afraid. I already talked to my friend. He agreed."
Her stomach twisted. "Agreed… to what?"
"To sleep with you. To get you pregnant." He took out a small folded paper and pressed it into her hand. "This is the hotel address. He'll meet you there. Tonight."
Zoya's fingers trembled as she held the paper.
"You told your friend everything?"
"Relax," he said, as if the matter were simple. "I only told him that a woman would meet him. I didn't tell him that woman is my wife."
"And you think he won't recognize me?" she asked, her voice breaking.
"He won't," Jaffery replied. "People go to that place only for wine and pleasure. Everyone there wears masks. No one will recognise you."
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms slowly around her.
"Zoya, my love," he murmured near her ear. "You know how much I love you. Can't you do this one thing for your husband?"
Her heart felt heavy—too heavy to fight anymore.
After a long silence, she nodded helplessly.
"…Fine. If this is what you want… I'll do it."
---
[In Front of the Hotel — Night]
Zoya Velisar stood frozen outside the tall, shadowy hotel. Her heart beat so loudly she felt it in her throat. Somewhere inside, Jaffery's friend was waiting for her—waiting for something she didn't want to give.
With trembling fingers, she pulled out the mask Jaffery had forced on her. She slipped it over her face, hoping it would hide not just her identity, but her shame as well.
Taking a shaky breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The lobby was warm and filled with soft golden lights. People moved silently, their faces hidden behind elegant masks.
Zoya walked to the counter and slid the small folded slip of paper across it—the one Jaffery had given her.
The attendant glanced at the paper and smiled knowingly, as if he understood exactly why she was there. She looked away.
He handed her a single key.
"Here is your key lady" he said softly.
Zoya took the key with numb fingers and turned toward the hallway.
She had barely taken a step when she collided with a young woman coming from the opposite side. The impact was small, but both keys slipped from their hands and clattered onto the floor.
"Oh—I'm so sorry," Zoya said quickly. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine," the girl replied with a polite smile.
The girl bent down, picked up one of the keys from the floor, and walked away without another word.
Zoya knelt to pick up the remaining key. Her hands shook slightly as she closed her fingers around it.
Then, gathering the last pieces of her courage, she headed toward the room.
---
[In Front of the Room—]
Zoya looked down at the key in her trembling hand. "Room… 306," she whispered to herself.
Then she lifted her eyes to the door standing quietly in front of her. "This is the one," she breathed.
Her heart hammered against her chest. She raised her hand to knock, but halfway up… she froze.
"I don't think I can do this," she whispered, her voice cracking.
Before she could turn away, the door suddenly swung open.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stood there. His face was hidden behind a mask.
"Lady," he said in a deep voice, "are you planning to stand outside my room all night?"
"I've been waiting for you to come in."
Zoya's lips parted in panic. "I—I was just—"
"Enough excuses," he interrupted. "Now come inside."
He turned around and walked back into the room.
Swallowing her fear, Zoya stepped inside.
The man sat on the edge of the bed and lit a cigar, the faint smell of smoke filling the room.
"Lady," he said, exhaling lazily, "am I supposed to close the door for you?"
Startled, Zoya quickly turned and shut the door herself.
"So," the man said, studying her through the smoke, "you're the woman my friend sent?"
"Yes," she answered softly.
His eyes traveled over her slowly, deliberately. Even through the mask, she could feel his gaze lingering on her face. Zoya shifted nervously.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"M-my name?" she stuttered.
"Yes," he said calmly. "Tell me your name."
Zoya's throat tightened. She forced out the first name that came to her mind.
"Aysha."
"Aysha…" he repeated, tasting the sound of it.
Then he leaned back slightly. "Are you married or single?"
Zoya hesitated, then whispered, "I'm… single."
"And your age?"
"Twenty-three."
"Twenty-three," he echoed with a slow smile.
He took another drag from his cigar.
"Aysha. Twenty-three. Unmarried."
"Perfect." He said with a grin.
He set the cigar aside and stood up, walking toward her with a calmness that made her panic even more.
Zoya's back hit the wall. She pressed against it.
But the man reached her in two steps. His hand slid around her waist, pulling her toward him with an ease.
Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears.
His lips stopping just inches from hers.
"Aysha," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous, "let's make tonight unforgettable."
Zoya lifted her hand weakly. "W-wait… just a minute—"
But she couldn't finish.
The man's lips were already on hers firm, deliberate, claiming her breath before she could pull away.
Her fingers curled into tight fists at her sides. She didn't know what to do. Part of her wanted to shove him away and run far from this room, from this night, from everything.
But then… a voice echoed in her mind. Jaffery's voice. "Zoya… I want a child."
Her fists slowly loosened.
She raised her hands—hesitating for just a heartbeat—and then grabbed the man by the back of his neck.
Before she could stop herself, she kissed him back.
The man inhaled sharply against her lips, as if surprised, then deepened the kiss with a sudden hunger. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer with an urgency that made her knees weaken.
Zoya didn't hold back either. Something inside her snapped fear, pressure, helplessness all twisting into a desperate kind of boldness.
Their mouths moved against each other with rising intensity. His fingers slid along her back, hers tangled into his hair. The kiss grew hotter, deeper almost fierce.
They stumbled backward, collapsing onto the bed.
The room swayed around her… the world shrinking to the heat of his touch and the pounding of her own heartbeat.
The night blurred into a haze of breathless moments. And just like that…
the night passed.
---