I Was Hired to Give the Dead Heiress an Heir

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong with the birth details you gave me?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

"A person's astrological chart is set from the moment they're born, completely unique to them," I explained. "For this ritual to work and produce a proper heir, both parties' birth details need to be included in the wedding contract and burned as an offering to the spirit. That's the only way to make sure everything goes smoothly."

I paused for a moment, then cautioned, "If something goes wrong because of your mistake, I won't be refunding a single cent of that $60 million."

Frank didn't hesitate, responding quickly, "Mr. Keeper, I assure you, the birth details are absolutely correct. As for everything else, I've followed your instructions exactly. I've also made sure everything else is prepared exactly as you requested. Nothing will go wrong."

Seeing how sincerely he spoke, I couldn't press the issue further.

I grabbed the paper with Harper's birth details, the charm already drawn, and turned to leave.

With one quick motion, I shut the door behind me, cutting off the noise from the rest of the house. The silence hit immediately, and I could feel the weight of it all.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the temperature in the room took a sharp dive.

A cold gust of wind brushed against the back of my neck, and I instinctively reached for the tools strapped to my waist. Something felt off right away.

It wasn't just the usual eerie atmosphere that came with these kinds of jobs—it was more.

I repeated my usual routine: inspecting the room.

Despite my efforts to dismiss it, the sensation of being watched persisted. It felt as if unseen eyes were scrutinizing me intensely.

I couldn't afford to let my guard down.

Following my grandfather's methods, I started a more thorough search of the room.

I pulled out my compass and activated the hidden detection device built into it. Combining old-world techniques with modern tech was how I made sure everything ran smoothly. And trust me, it had saved my skin more than once.

I started scanning the room with my usual precision, checking every corner.

And sure enough, I found something.

A tiny surveillance camera was wedged between two books.

I pretended to bump into the books, knocking them over and dislodging the camera. After confirming there were no other recording devices in sight, I allowed myself to relax a little.

The profession of corpse-guiding is so obscure and rare that many of my clients are brimming with curiosity about us.

But the Archdale family was the first to be so crafty.

To keep them from spying again, I took my time burning sage and changed into my ritual outfit.

A black lacquered mask that covered my entire face and a traditional groom's robe designed to stir even a corpse's soul.

Once everything was ready, I approached Harper's bedside.

"Fate's brought us together," I whispered, my voice barely a breath. "I'm not sure if you're the one I hoped for, but after tonight, we'll be husband and wife. I'll give you an heir, and in return, you'll let me live out my days in peace."

Saying such intimate words to a corpse in a room drenched in blood would've made most people lose their sanity.

It wasn't an easy job, mentally or for the faint-hearted.

However, I had been at this long enough. I'd seen all kinds of corpses.

Compared to car accidents or people who jumped from great heights, at least Harper was still intact.

Still, even after years in this line of work, something about this felt off.

I couldn't even get the sage to stay lit. The flame kept going out, and it took three tries before I could get it to burn properly. My patience was wearing thin, and unease started creeping in like a cold shadow.

I was starting to question if I'd been too easy on the Archdales, too quick to take the job. This mess should have cost more. A lot more.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I got the sage burning.

I waved it three times, then burned the marriage paper, watching it turn to ash in the flames. I knew I had to stick to the ritual.

There were no shortcuts in this business, especially not when it came to the dead.

It was time for me to start working, finish the task, clean up the room, and finalize everything.

With that in mind, I lifted the blanket from Harper's legs, one corner at a time.

I kept my gaze focused on the task at hand, but damn it all, I couldn't help but notice.

Her legs were slender and well-defined—she had a figure.

Fuck me...

This was the last thing I needed right now.

Pale, smooth, and flawless skin.

The daughter of a tycoon really is something else.

Pale, taut, flawless skin. I had to admit, Harper Archdale really was something else.

Even after all these years of death, she still had that undeniable pull—that kind that stirred a man's blood and made him forget his own damn name.

It was tempting. Irresistible.

"My dear wife,: I whispered softly but with authority, "I'm here. It may hurt a bit the first time, but you'll need to bear with it. Whether your family has an heir depends on tonight."

As I spoke, I followed the family's secret technique, massaging upward from her ankle with deliberate, careful motions.

The efficiency of rich families is truly something to behold. Even after all this time, Harper's skin was still warm and elastic. It made my job easier.

But when my hands reached her chest, I froze.

Right there, smack in the center of her chest, was a vermilion mole—a mark I knew all too well.

My heart skipped a beat.

I yanked the blanket off her face, my hands shaking.

When I saw her clearly, I gasped.