JACK THE THRASH REMOVER

MABEL

The figure kept coming to my bedchamber night after night, and I kept giving him my vagina to screw.

Every single time he slipped through the dark, silent doorway, I opened my thighs wide for him. But inside, every stroke of his thick shaft was a burning reminder of my deep disgrace. A servant sleeping with his Luna—that was the absolute lowest level Samson could ever send me to. My husband had reduced the proud Luna of Blue Wing to a vessel for a lowborn shadow worker, and I was completely ready to kill Samson for this unforgivable insult.

Just then, as I lay in the quiet room listening to the clock tick, a weird, dark thought came to my mind.

What if I poison the servant first?

If I killed the man who was actively seeding my body, I would end this embarrassing rubbish once and for all.

I couldn't deny the physical truth: I enjoyed the sex. I loved the size of his dick, and I was almost sure Samson had personally examined his dick before bringing him into my private suite to make sure he was huge enough to satisfy me. The aggressive way he pinned me flat to the bed, the heavy way he smacked my pink pussy hole until it throbbed, the sharp way he tapped my ass when he wanted me to bend over, and the wild way he sucked my hole until my whole body shivered—all of it sent intense, delicious shivers right down my spine.

But physical pleasure meant nothing compared to my royal bloodline. I could not, and would not, have a child fathered by a common servant. Samson could not reduce my baby—a child that was meant to inherit absolute royalty, wealth, and power—to the son of a slave.

My mind was completely made up. I slipped out of bed, walked over to my private apothecary cabinet, and fetched a small vial of clear, odorless, tasteless poison. I poured three lethal drops into a crystal glass of sweet red wine, swirling the dark liquid until the venom dissolved completely. I set the glass gently on my nightstand, right beside the bed. If he came tonight, I would offer him the drink after our passion.

To prepare for his arrival, I took a sharp razor and carefully shaved all my pussy hair away, leaving my core completely smooth, clean, and soft. And like always, I lay entirely naked on top of the silk sheets with my legs spread wide apart in the dark, waiting for the door to open.

I even masturbated for a while, sliding my own fingers slowly up and down my smooth lips, working myself up so I would be soaking wet and dripping by the time he arrived. I smiled darkly into the empty room, planning it all out: while he was lost in the absolute ecstasy of enjoying the Luna's hole, I would hand him the cup, watch him drink it, and kill him right in my bed.

But he didn't come.

I waited and waited. One o'clock passed. Two o'clock passed. The hours dragged on in total, agonizing silence, but the bedroom door never clicked open. The dark figure never stepped into the room.

Frustrated and restless, I put on my silk robe and walked down the quiet hallway toward Samson’s private study. I stood outside his door for a long moment, my hand hovering over the brass handle. But I stopped myself just in time. Asking Samson why no one had come to my bed would instantly prove to him that I knew he wasn't the one sleeping with me. It would destroy my cover.

I swallowed my frustration, turned back around, and returned to my empty bed.

Tomorrow he will come, I reassured myself, pulling the blanket over my naked body and closing my eyes. He's probably just on a late shift. He will definitely come tomorrow night.

The next morning, the bright sun woke me up early. I washed my face, put on a silk dress, and stepped out into the grand hallway to head down for breakfast.

As I walked toward the dining hall, I noticed a group of maids and guards gathered near the servant quarters, whispering in hushed, frightened tones.

"What is going on here?" I demanded, stepping forward with my arms crossed over my chest. "Why is everyone idling around instead of doing their morning duties?"

The head maid turned around, bowing low in panic. "Forgive us, Luna Mabel! We just received tragic news from the lower estate yards."

"What news?" I asked, frowning.

"It was announced just a few minutes ago, my Luna," the maid whispered, her voice trembling. "Jack, the trash remover from the lower ranks... he was found dead in his quarters early this morning."

My heart gave a sudden, violent thud against my ribs. My eyes widened in shock.

Jack, the trash remover?

The lowborn, silent servant who cleared the waste from the mansion... the man with the broad shoulders and calloused hands... was dead.

I stood completely frozen in the middle of the hallway as the realization crashed over me like a tidal wave. The man who had been sneaking into my room in the dark... the man whose thick dick I had sucked and taken inside my body... the father of the child growing inside my belly... was the trash collector.

And now, he was dead before I even had the chance to slip the poison into his cup.