— More precisely, I’m asking for your help, — the man continues, not noticing my rudeness. I turn to him, scanning him with my gaze. What could this richest man want from me? Thanks? — You won’t get that. Go to some other ward. And even better— … — Look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you! His sharp tone makes something inside me twitch. I stare at him, not understanding how he pulled this off. My husband is a ment, and I’m not the timid type. — I want you to become the mother of my child. A week ago, everything in my life was something you could only wish for—husband, home, and a soon-to-come addition to the family. Today all my wealth is a set of belongings and a cross on a chain around my neck. — Didn’t I tell you: perverts to another ward… — I don’t want to have children with you. I want you to be the mother of my son.