Chapter 6: A Debt of Blood

One day, Mrs. Whitmore hesitantly begged me, "Lily, your Mr. Whitmore is barely over twenty, not married or settled. If he dies like this, the family line ends..."

Her voice trembled, her hands twisting the hem of her dress. She looked at me with hope and shame mingled in her eyes.

She wanted me to bear a child for Mr. Whitmore.

The request hung between us, awkward and heavy. I understood, even if it hurt. Legacy was everything to families like hers.

Afraid I’d be angry, she quickly added, "I know it’s a lot to ask, but..."

She bit her lip, her eyes pleading. I saw the desperation there, the fear of losing everything.

I cut her off. "It’s not impossible."

My voice was calm, steady. I’d lived through worse. I wasn’t afraid of sacrifice, not when it meant something.

I’m a country girl. I’ve seen elopements and shotgun weddings. I never cared much about so-called purity.

I’d seen girls run off with boys, seen families torn apart and stitched back together. Life was messy, and love didn’t always follow the rules.

But during that half year in the city, I heard a lot of stories and learned about repaying kindness and loyalty.

The stories stuck with me—tales of honor, of debts paid and promises kept. They shaped the way I saw the world.

Mrs. Whitmore was moved to tears and took off her pearl bracelet. "This is worth at least a thousand dollars. Pawn it to bribe the guards."

She pressed the bracelet into my hand. Her fingers were trembling. It was the last of her treasures, a symbol of trust and desperation.