« I only have one year to live. Marry me, give me a son, and your family will never have money problems again, » the wealthy landowner repeated.
The poor milkmaid accepted out of despair. But on their wedding night, a terrible event happened, plunging her into horror.
The young girl was only twenty years old. His hands smelled of milk and hay, and his boots were barely dry from the mud. She lived in an old wooden house with her sick mother. His father was in prison for unpaid debts.
Rumors circulated in the village, but the reality was the same: there was no breadwinner, no money, and sometimes they really had nothing to eat.
The mother grew weaker from month to month. Medicines were expensive. The girl got up before dawn and worked on the farm until nightfall, but it was barely enough to buy bread. Sometimes she would sit by the window and just look at the road, undecided as to what to do next.
It was then that a rich man appeared. He was about forty years old. He wore a designer suit, drove a fancy car, and had the serious look of a man accustomed to being accepted.
He went to their house and said calmly, almost indifferently, « I will help your father to get out sooner. I will pay off his debts. Your family will never want for anything again. Marry me and give me a son. In any case, I’ll die in a year. »
He spoke as if it were a question of buying a piece of land.
The girl remained silent. She looked at his face, his confidence, and suddenly she felt pity for him. Forty years. Rich. And always alone. He repeated that the doctors gave him only one year to live, at most.
The young girl accepted. Not for the money, she told herself. In any case, he would die in a year. And his father would go out, and his mother would be healed. What did she have to lose?
The marriage was quick and discreet.
But on the wedding night, a terrifying event occurred, and the next morning she ran away from home.
When her husband fell asleep, she could not close her eyes. The house seemed strange and cold to him. She got up to go to the hallway and happened to see a light in the office. The door was ajar.
Papers were placed on the desk.
She had no intention of reading other people’s documents. But his gaze was drawn to familiar words. Date. Signature. Stamp of the clinic.
She approached slowly.
It was a medical report. Dating back several months. Black and white: good health. Favourable prognosis. Not a word about a fatal disease.
Nearby was another document: a contract with a lawyer. In the event of the birth of a child, all the assets would go to the heir. In the absence of children, the marriage would be annulled within a year, leaving her destitute. It later turned out that a wealthy relative had died and had bequeathed all her possessions to him, on one condition: he was to become a father within the year.
She was exploited, deceived, her pity servile, and then thrown out on the street like a burden.
