If It’s a Promise Meant to be Broken Anyway

“Would you be willing to bear a child for me, born of a mad dog, a defective one at that, my lady?”

“…Gladly.”

There were no choices left.

People called her a mad dog, her family drove her to her death, and the fiancé she had clung to in the end betrayed her for her younger sister.

The only option remaining was this man.

“Shall I give you some advice, my lady?”

“I’m only saying this because you seem to be moving in a rather inefficient manner.”

“Should I call it a futile effort?”

He offered unsolicited counsel, then said,

“I hear you’re in urgent need of a marriage match. One lacking, with a ruined reputation.”

“Yes. My reputation is poor. Stained with all manner of scandal, they call me a mad dog.”

“I’m not actually mad. If you’re worried about heirs….”

“No. In fact, I’d prefer if you truly were mad.”

“……”

“Now that I think of it, it might be fitting to have an heir who inherits that madness, born from a mad dog.”

No one else spoke to her this way.

A meeting driven by necessity.

A promise destined to break when the time came.

“A divorce, you say. You ought to speak sense.”

Then, changing his words,

“I regret to inform you, but you’re not going anywhere.”

Until the moment he turned to her with eyes that seemed ready to burn.