I am a doctor who specializes in treating infertility. People liked to joke and call me the "Life-Bringer."

By day, I worked at the hospital, handling the toughest, most puzzling cases.

By night, I used something called the Spirit Bride Rite, a long-lost ritual from ancient times to preserve a man's ability to have children, even after he had just passed.

It was a method that went against nature and drained me dry, so I didn't take just any job. I worked for the wealthy. My starting fee was 600 thousand dollars.

That day, I had barely taken a sip of champagne at a client's grandson's baby shower before an urgent request came in.

If I counted right, this would be my 17th husband.

Jillian Woods hadn't even finished hosting her grandson's one-month celebration before she grabbed my wrist and dragged me into a side room, her grip tight, almost desperate.

"Ms. McCoy, please! You've got to help us. The Buckleys are about to fall apart."

"What?"

Before I could react, she reached up and yanked the glittery headband off my head.

"The Buckleys' second son passed away this morning. Sigh, he was so young… He was supposed to get married next month. His body's barely gone cold. They just want you to help leave behind a child. Otherwise, the Buckley bloodline ends here."

The story hit a little too close to home. It sounded just like what Jillian's own family had gone through.

"If you agree, they're offering four million dollars. Their private jet can pick you up right away."

An out-of-town job.

My first instinct was to say no.

Then I remembered that the Buckleys were the wealthiest family in the region.

I didn't hesitate. I raised all ten fingers.

"Ten million?"

Jillian froze, then hurried to make the call. When she got confirmation, she let out a long breath.

"They agreed. They want to speak with you directly."

I took the phone.

An older man's voice came through, low and heavy with grief. He asked what I needed so they could prepare.

I recognized his voice right away. It was Alan Buckley. I had seen him in interviews before.

"Keep the room warm," I said. "The body needs to stay close to natural temperature. And send the jet fast."

The sooner I got there, the better. The closer the body stayed to how it had been in life, the easier my work would be.

Besides, I had no intention of dealing with something ice cold.

He agreed immediately.

Right there in front of Jillian, I pulled out a piece of parchment with her late son's name on it and burned it.

"Whatever ties we had end here."

"Ah… Right." She blinked, then quickly added, "Then what about my nephew? The one you've been seeing? He really cares about you. He doesn't even mind what you do…"

"That's over, too."

He might not care, but I did. I wasn't interested in dating someone who was still alive.

As I got into my car, Jillian's nephew came running after me, shouting hysterically, "Eleanor, I love you! Just say yes!"

"Maybe after I divorce number 17," I called back, waving him off as I rolled up the window.

After packing, I sent my grandfather a quick message.

The renovation fund for his sanctum was secured.

Then I boarded the Buckleys' private jet.

Three hours later, I stepped into their estate.

Calling it a house didn't even come close. It was a full-blown manor. Towers, courtyards, winding paths stretching out in every direction.

Before I could take it all in, I heard crying.

"The Buckleys' men are cursed…"

A young man in a wheelchair rolled toward me, wiping tears from his face. A line of staff followed behind him.

He was dressed in a white suit, eyes swollen from crying. Even like that, he was striking.

He said between uneven breaths, "I've been paralyzed since I was a kid, and I can't have children. And now, this morning… Max passed away… The Buckley line is dying out!"

His name was Titus Buckley. The one who died was his twin brother, Max Buckley, who was 28.

They had always been close.

That morning, after breakfast, Max had gone out to fish for him. A few hours later, they found his body in the family's private lake. He had slipped and drowned.

"No matter what, the Buckleys need an heir. That's why we called you, Ms. McCoy. Don't worry. Once this is done, there'll be an additional reward on top of the ten million."

"Additional?" I tilted my head. "How much?"

"Two million!"

Not bad. Enough to restore a few of the old relics back at my grandfather's sanctum.

I kept my face calm, even as I did the math in my head.

"Mr. Buckley, it sounds like Mrs. Woods didn't explain our service tiers properly. I have great respect for someone like you, who clearly values family above everything else. For an extra four million, I can offer you an upgraded package."

Titus blinked. "An upgraded package?"

"Yes. It's the premium service. Guaranteed male heir. And if you’re lucky…" I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "You might get twins."

In theory, it could happen.

In reality, I might've been stretching things a little.

Titus hesitated, clearly unsure.

But time was against him. After I pressed the urgency again and again, he finally gave in and transferred a seven-million-dollar deposit on the spot.

That was more like it.

Once the money came through, I generously offered a few words of comfort.

Then I pulled out another piece of parchment and some red ink. I wrote both my name and Max's, along with his birth details.

I burned it at the exact spot where he had drowned.

By the time the ritual ended, night had already fallen.

"Alright," I said. "Take me to him."

The butler led me upstairs to Max's room.

Alan sat beside the bed, holding Max's hand, silent tears slipping down his weathered face. When he saw me, he wiped his eyes and stood.

"Ms. McCoy. I'm sure you understand that a family like ours has to be careful with matters like this. If you don't mind, I'll need to hold onto your phone for now."

I understood. I had seen it before.

They were worried I might use this against them someday.

"That's fine," I said, "but I have one condition."

"Go on."

"There can't be any cameras in the room. I don't want anybody eavesdropping or watching in secret. Some rites aren't meant to be witnessed. Anyone who interferes risks consequences."

I let my voice carry just enough weight to make it sound real.

Truth was, I just didn't want anything coming back on me later.

What I did wasn't something you could drag into the light. If anyone saw too much, heard too much, or decided to talk, I would be finished.

So I kept things locked down.

Every client came through referrals, and I made sure there wasn't even the slightest chance of anything leaking out.

"Don't worry, Ms. McCoy. This room is isolated on three sides. It's completely private. Max valued quiet, so it's fully soundproofed, and there aren't any cameras."

Alan sounded convincing enough.

I nodded and handed over my phone.

They left.

I drew the curtains, then pulled a small handheld scanner from my bag and swept the room.

When I reached a display cabinet, I paused.

Right there, sitting in front of an outrageously expensive limited-edition figurine.

No cameras? Yeah, right.

The old fox was more calculating than he let on.

I didn't call it out. I just let out a quiet sigh and played along.

I grabbed a bottle of lotion and set it casually in front of the figurine, blocking the hidden lens completely.

The scan didn't pick up any bugs at least.

Still, I wasn't taking chances.

I lit a thick black candle and set it burning slowly, and then flipped on a signal jammer. Soon, the room was filled with haze.

Even if there was something I missed, no one would be seeing anything clearly now.

To complete the setup, I changed into a black wedding dress.

This was the Spirit Bride Rite, after all.

When everything was ready, I turned toward the bed.

Max lay there, perfectly still, without the faintest sign of life.

The water had left its mark, but it hadn't ruined him.

He still looked really good.

I had been doing this long enough. I had seen every kind of body there was. Nothing about it scared me anymore.

If anything, I caught myself studying him.

Even knowing he and Titus were twins, Max clearly had the better features.

Even if you ignored the sharp lines of his face, the strength in his chest alone said everything. Max had lived with discipline, the kind that came from countless hours in the gym.

As I undressed him, my hands lingered a little longer than they needed to.

"My lord, tonight, you're mine. Don't worry. I'll take good care of you."

My fingers brushed along his jaw, cool beneath my touch.

I had to admit, the Buckleys had done their part. Keeping a body this close to natural warmth wasn't easy.

For now, I treated him like he was still alive.

Slowly, I worked my way down, removing the last of his clothing.

Once he was fully uncovered, I reached into my bag and pulled out a small needle kit.

"You've got a full head of hair, not a hint of thinning. Honestly, that's better than most guys your age."

I kept my tone light as I worked, pressing the needles into key points along his scalp.

I believe the spirits see all things. Even if it was just a body, I still treated it with respect and did everything I could to make the moment feel right.

Besides, this was technically my husband. I had sealed it myself, name and all. Saying a few nice things was the least I could do.

"My lord, you've got a perfect build. I bet you had no shortage of admirers."

I kept going, placing each needle with care, my hands moving gradually lower as I traced the line of his body.

When I reached his nether region, I paused, surprised despite myself.

"Wow. You weren't lacking. Whoever married you would've been lucky."

I secured the final seven needles in place, completing the binding points. Then I began working through the channels with a specialized technique, steady and precise.

It took about half an hour before I finally reached for the medical syringe.

Time to collect.

To my surprise, I drew nothing.

I frowned. Why wasn't it working?

Five minutes passed, and I still couldn't get anything.

I set the syringe aside and went back to the technique, retracing every step.

Fifteen minutes later, I tried again.

Still nothing.

A thin layer of sweat formed on my forehead.

It seemed like this one wasn't going to be easy.

I adjusted the needles with my right hand while continuing the work with my left.

As the process grew more complex, I realized two hands weren't enough. I had to lean in closer, using the rest of my body to keep the rhythm steady.

I kept at it for a while longer.

Then suddenly, I froze.

Unless I imagined it…something had just twitched.