SEXUAL SCHEDULE

The days after that first night passed like a slow fog consuming time.

Bella remained in the main house—alone in the east wing—while Aaron rarely appeared except on the nights scheduled by the housekeeper, Mrs. Reeds. The schedule was neatly written on a white piece of paper quietly affixed to the small table near Bella's bedroom door.

Monday, Thursday, Saturday.  

Time: 9:00 PM.  

Duration: Undetermined.

Bella didn’t know who had made the schedule. But she knew that Lucienne must have known.

"I'm really like a baby-making machine."

Every scheduled night, Aaron came to her room. Never early. Never late. He knocked once, then entered. Little was spoken. No hugs. No emotional touch. Just minimal physical interaction. And after his sexual desire was satisfied, he would return to his own room.

The days in between felt like a silent pause.

Bella began avoiding mirrors.

She woke up, ate breakfast alone, sat in the garden alone, and read old books from the home library just to fill the void. She didn’t truly understand anything—neither the content of the books nor the meaning of everything she was going through.

Sometimes she stared out the window and asked,

“Is this still alive? Or just the breath left in a dead body?”

Her nights grew heavier. Every time Aaron came, Bella tried to freeze her heart. She didn’t want to hope for anything. Not for Aaron’s gaze, not for the fleeting warmth of his skin. She had to be strong. Because if she wasn’t, her destruction would be twice as great.

In the second week, Bella began to shiver every night before Aaron came. She had to bite the edge of the blanket to stop trembling. Sometimes she wanted to refuse. But her mind always returned to her mother’s face—pale in the hospital bed—and her younger sibling who hadn’t paid for school.

In the third week, Bella began to have strange dreams. She dreamed she was in a white room, alone, naked, and constantly examined by hands she didn’t recognize. She woke up in a cold sweat, then vomited in the bathroom. But she dared not think about it.

In the fourth week, she started counting.

Aaron had come nine times. And tonight was the tenth.

*

*******

*

On the 10th night

Aaron arrived as usual. At nine o'clock sharp. His face remained expressionless. His steps remained calm. But Bella was different tonight.

She did not bow her head. She did not greet him. She did not avoid him. She just sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the man as if she were looking at a ruler who was about to pass judgment.

No words were spoken as their bodies came together again—like two strangers forced to play the same charade, night after night.  

After everything was done, Aaron stood up and began putting his shirt back on.  

But this time, before leaving the room, he paused at the doorframe. His voice was soft, almost like a sincere offer.

“If you feel you can’t handle it, you can ask to stop.”  

Bella turned, her eyes red, but his offer didn’t soften her. It only made her smile cynically.  

She stood up slowly, then answered calmly:  

“Stop? And pay a penalty of two hundred fifty thousand dollars that I don’t have? This contract isn’t a bond of love, Mr. Aaron. It’s a legal trap.”  

Aaron didn’t respond. His eyes met hers briefly—cold, almost devoid of emotion.  

Then he left, letting the door close softly behind him.  

Bella stood alone in the room, her body trembling not from fear. But because the truth had been laid bare: everything that sounded like a choice was merely the most cunning form of coercion.

*

*******

*

One Month, and Zero Results

That day, the Texas sky was overcast with gray clouds. A gentle breeze blew through Aaron's backyard, swaying the branches of the cedar trees that stood in neat rows like old soldiers.

Bella was sitting alone on the garden bench, wearing a warm sweater and long pants. Her eyes were fixed on a cup of tea that had grown cold. Her body felt tired. Her stomach occasionally felt queasy, but it wasn’t certain.

It had been four weeks.

They had “done their duty” more than ten times.

But there were no results.

Then, without warning, the sound of high heels echoed from the gravel path leading to the garden.

Bella turned her head. Her breath caught in her throat.

Lucienne Lockwood.  

The woman wore a pale cream-colored coat, her hair still elegantly pinned up, and her glasses framed a probing gaze. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.  

“A quiet afternoon, isn’t it?” Lucie said, sitting beside Bella without invitation.  

Bella didn’t respond.

Lucie gracefully removed her gloves, then surveyed the garden as if assessing an unsatisfactory property.  

“A month has passed, and… nothing yet,” she said calmly. “Is your body too slow, or… too frozen?”  

Bella clenched her fingers on her lap. But she kept her gaze forward, holding back.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Lucie continued softly. “Maybe Aaron needs to find an alternative. We don’t have much time. His father wants the inheritance to be settled before his 75th birthday. That’s… about eight months from now.”  

“There’s still time,” Bella replied softly.

Lucie chuckled. “Time is only for those who are useful. For machines that function.”  

Bella turned her head, her eyes red. “Why do you always call me a machine?”  

“Because you signed a contract to be used. Not to be loved,” Lucie replied without hesitation.

Silence hung between them.

Then Lucienne stood up, straightening her coat.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she said before leaving. “Do you think you’re the only one bound by a contract? Aaron is too. And my contract with him is longer, stronger, and more… closely monitored.”

Bella was stunned.

“Are you monitoring all of this?”  

Lucie smiled. “It would be a shame to let such an important program go unmonitored. I have access to all medical reports, security cameras, even—” she leaned in and whispered, “I know Aaron sometimes stares at you for more than five seconds. That’s a weakness. But it doesn’t mean anything.”

She walked away without looking back.  

Bella sat silently on the park bench. The wind grew colder. Her chest felt tight, but not from sadness.  

Rather, it was because it was becoming clearer, she was surrounded by a cold, complex power game. And everyone who smiled at her—basically, they only wanted one thing from her body: offspring.

"Lucie!"  Bella called.

Lucie stopped in her tracks when she heard Bella call her name. In fact, she had already walked quite a distance.

"Aren't you afraid if your husband will become addicted to my sexual services?" Bella asked flatly.

"What ...?!"