My Don's Vow of Impotence

On our wedding day, Lorenzo told me, his expression stone-cold, that he was impotent.

An old wound from the battlefield.

Fearing I would shatter his pride as the family heir, I never breathed a word of it.

I tried countless methods, hoping to reignite some spark between us.

I cast aside my modesty, standing before him in a slinky silk gown, but his gaze was laced with nothing but disgust.

"Have you no shame, Elara? Are you that desperate for a man?"

His words plunged me into a frozen abyss. After a family masquerade ball, I was drugged and slept with someone—I didn't know who.

My heart was heavy with guilt, a feeling that only deepened when I discovered I was pregnant a month later.

When Lorenzo found out, he looked down on me as if I were a blemish on the family name.

"Elara, I never imagined you were such a shameless woman. I knew you would tarnish the family's honor."

He put me under house arrest, arranged for an "accident" that caused my miscarriage, and fabricated a story about me colluding with a rival family, making sure the lie spread like wildfire.

In their eyes, I was a ruined woman.

Until last night, when I was bringing Lorenzo his prized cigars and overheard his conversation with his confidant.

"Boss, you don't think the Principessa still believes that masked man wasn't you, do you?"

"Damn, Boss. You're a cold man. Willing to kill your own child just to save yourself for Bianca."

Lorenzo set down his wine glass, displeased.

"No one mentions this to Bianca. That night was just an accident."

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1

Ice flooded my veins as I listened to the casual conversation drifting from the study.

I don't know how I made it back to my room. I stood before the mirror, staring at the haggard woman in the reflection, her hair already streaked with silver.

I stared, dazed. I was only twenty-eight, but I barely recognized myself.

My "immoral act" had become a sickness in my soul, an inescapable prison of guilt.

When Lorenzo stayed out all night and I went to find him, he'd taunt me.

"Just look at the state of you, you faithless woman!"

When I asked him to come home from his revelries at the casino, he would humiliate me in public, his contempt a weapon.

"What right do you have to control me? What, did you think I couldn't get it up that night, so you went and found someone who could?"

"Carrying some other man's bastard and you expect me to clean up your mess?"

"Elara, who else would want a slut like you besides me!"

It had been three years. For three years, I had been submissive, never daring to challenge a single word or action.

I had always believed it was my fault, that I could never again look him in the eye.

But I never expected the whole thing was a lie from start to finish.

I took out the makeup I hadn't touched in years, clumsily applying it as I once had, swiping scarlet lipstick across my lips.

Then I picked up the crystal perfume bottle and smashed the mirror before me.

My years of silence were over.

As expected, Lorenzo returned, reeking of alcohol.

Seeing me sitting on the sofa, wearing makeup, he frowned instantly.

"Elara, all dolled up this late. Who are you trying to impress?"

"Hah! What, is one of your flings stopping by?"

This was how he always manipulated me; his words used to fill me with a profound sense of shame.

Now, they just filled me with disgust.

"Lorenzo, you need to see a private doctor tomorrow."

"I want a child."

My words made color drain from his face.

He stared at me, his eyes bloodshot.

"Elara, what are you trying to say? Are you mocking me? Rubbing my face in the fact that I can't perform?"

"What, you can't live without a man?"

I lifted my eyes and met his gaze in silence.

"I am a normal woman. Is it so wrong to want an heir to solidify our alliance?"

"And yes, I am disgusted. You have a problem you refuse to treat. I've already contacted a doctor. You're going with me tomorrow."

Hearing this, his face contorted with fury, the veins on his forehead bulging. He looked like a red-eyed bull about to charge.

He grabbed my wrist with one hand and raised the other.

"Who gave you the right to make decisions? Can't you keep your legs shut for one second?"

"I thought you were the noblest Principessa. I guess I was mistaken."

His tone was pure mockery. I lifted my chin to meet his gaze.

If this had happened before, I would have been apologizing profusely by now, maybe even humbling myself to appease him.

The weight of our alliance and the burden of honor had long pressed me into submission.

Now that I knew it was all a lie, I finally understood how ridiculous he sounded.

"If you want to hit me, just do it. You don't need to invent excuses."

"I'm doing this for us. Don't you always say how much you care about this alliance?"

"So I've thought it over. We have to find someone to cure your condition; you can't keep avoiding it. Once you're better, we can have an heir of our own."

I said these words without a trace of emotion, my eyes locked on his.

I wanted to see, truly see, what kind of monster was hiding behind that handsome facade.

He stared at me in silence for a long time, his gaze beginning to waver.

He sank onto the sofa nearby, his tone suddenly softening.

"Elara, you know it's... it's a mental block. All in my head. I've seen specialists. They all say there's no cure. I can't go through that cycle of hope and disappointment again."