Too much is at stake, and that’s how I justify what we’re about to do.

Because we only have two years left to conceive, and the doctor we saw at the beginning of the year said Edwin is infertile.

I guess I should back up a bit. Our desperate solution presented itself last month at the diplomacy summit. From the moment I laid eyes on Franklin Astor, I knew he was a powerful man. The way he watched me from across the room made me uncomfortable, but there was no denying the way he commanded the space around him.

I’m not sure Edwin noticed the other man’s scrutiny, but later that night when Mr. Astor cornered us in the hall, he had my husband’s full attention.

Because Franklin Astor, this mysterious and handsome man from a small island up north, couldn’t keep his hungry eyes off of me. Then he did the unthinkable.

He offered us a proposition we couldn’t ignore—an ungodly amount of money for one night with me.

Of course, we were shocked at first, so Mr. Astor gave us his number and told us to think about it. That’s all we did that night, unable to sleep as a disturbing idea took hold in the dead of night, because there was only one thing we needed and it wasn’t more money.

The next morning, we countered with our own offer and made a deal.

That day feels like it took place a lifetime ago, but now that we’ve flown to Zodiac Island in the wee hours of the morning out of a necessity for discretion, our decision is much too real. Dread and self-loathing fill my stomach as I write this, because we’re doing this.

And once we do, there’s no going back.

The date’s entry stops there, and I set aside the journal as I process what my mother wrote. A sense of relief storms through me, because at least she didn’t have a secret affair behind my father’s back. He was complicit in the affair, an accomplice to the illicitness of it.

They did it for our country.

They did it to produce an heir.

And I wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t.

With a deep breath, I pick up the journal and turn to the next page.

March 9th

I’ve done things in my life that have inspired a sense of shame, regardless of whether it was warranted. Nothing will ever compare to the cloak of shame that shrouds me now. I deserve it, and though part of me knows it isn’t fair, I deserve the disappointment in Edwin’s eyes too.

Because now there’s a secret between us, an “incident” we both agreed we wouldn’t discuss. Ever.