A Fiancé from the Village of Nightmares

After getting engaged to my boyfriend, Vino Fitzgerald, I went with him to his rural hometown to visit his family.

Our first meal there was nothing but a thin bowl of porridge. I was a little surprised by that.

Since Vino was marrying into my family, I brought along the agreed dowry of 880,000 dollar and handed it to his parents.

His mother took the money, frowned and said, “Isn’t your family supposed to be wealthy? This is way too little.”

I was stunned. “Eight hundred eighty thousand is too little?”

Deborah crossed her arms. “Here’s what I think: you should give each of our relatives a house. One for each person.”

I was so furious, I actually laughed. “Why would we do that?”

Her expression immediately darkened. “Why? My son is a top graduate from a prestigious university with a bright future. Your family may be rich, but that doesn't mean you deserve him.”

“Let me make this clear, an engagement doesn’t equal marriage. If you want to marry my son, you’ll need to prove yourself. And this dowry? It’s not nearly enough.”

She leaned closer and added coldly, “Also, even if you marry into this family, if you can’t give birth to a son to carry on the Fitzgerald name, I’ll make sure you get divorced.”

I was speechless.

It was her son who knelt at my parents’ house for three whole days and nights before they agreed to let him marry into our family.

Did she really not understand the situation?

——

I turned to Vino, hoping he would say something. But he seemed completely unfazed by what his mother had just said—still sitting there patiently teaching his father how to use a smartphone.

Then, Deborah tapped the edge of my bowl with her spoon. “It’s decided. You two can only get married once the house deeds are transferred.”

“It needs to be a property in a good school district. Don’t even think about a place in a bad area.”

Anger surged through me. I slammed my spoon down. “I’m not eating anymore.”

I stood up to go outside for some air, but Deborah stepped in front of me.

She pointed at the dining table. “Go wash the dishes.”

“If you’re going to marry into the Fitzgerald Family, you better learn how to behave and be observant.”

I was shaking with rage, unable to say a word.

I grabbed Vino’s sleeve. “Didn’t you explain everything to your parents?”

Vino looked a bit embarrassed and whispered, “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Then he turned to his mother. “Mom, your demands are too much.”

“We have so many relatives. Do you know how much money we’d have to spend?”

“I think we should just buy homes for close family. I have two uncles and three cousins. Five houses should be enough.”

His mother frowned but reluctantly nodded. “Alright then.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I looked straight at her and said coldly, “I’m sorry, but I can’t agree to this.”

“I came here to get married, not to fund poverty relief.”

Deborah’s face twisted with rage. She slammed the table and shouted, “What kind of attitude is that? Do you have no manners?”

“You’re not even officially part of this family yet and you already dare to talk to your future mother-in-law like that?”

I didn’t respond. I just turned to look at Vino.

He finally stood up and said to his mother, “Mom, Misca just arrived today. Why are you making such a scene?”

“She’s my fiancée now. Please don’t talk to her that way.”

Then he turned to me, looking annoyed. “Misca Swan, you really are something. My mom isn’t in great health and you still argue with her?”

“Your family is rich—can’t you just buy a few houses to make my mom happy?”

“Why do you have to make everything so difficult? How are we supposed to live together in the future?”

“Apologize to my mom. Right now.”

I looked him in the eye and replied calmly, “I can’t do that.”

Without another word, I turned and walked out the door.

But when I stepped outside, I noticed something was wrong. The car I had parked in front of Vino’s house was gone.

Confused, I looked around and spotted someone driving it through the village.

I pulled out my phone and was about to call the police when Vino ran out and snatched it from my hand.

“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning. “That’s my cousin, David Fitzgerald, driving your car.”