Not even two days had passed and everything was already decided; the marriage to Mr. Feldman was a fact. The mansion buzzed with activity, everyone coming and going as if preparing for a grand event, and I felt like an exhibition mannequin while the dress and hair stylists worked skillfully on me.

I knew little about my future husband. Only that he was an eccentric millionaire, founder of multiple companies in the city, widowed for ten years, and father of two children: Damián and Rosalía. I hadn't seen the former again since that fleeting encounter in his father's office.

I blushed remembering how naive I was to initially think he would be my fiancé.

"Done, Miss. You're perfect!" the stylist announced, pulling me out of my reverie.

"Thank you," I replied coolly, and the woman adjusting my dress withdrew, leaving me alone in front of the mirror.

My eyes filled with tears. It hurt to remember my first marriage. It was simple, in a modest chapel, without an elegant dress or luxurious rings, but back then I was truly happy.

I picked up the phone. I had a couple of new messages from Armando. I didn't open them; it was cruel enough to keep hurting myself with him.

I took a deep breath and left the room. The wedding was to be held in the main garden of the Feldman mansion. I was about to go downstairs when, suddenly, Damián reappeared. I walked past him without stopping, barely forming a slight smile at the corner of my lips.

"You're a gold digger," he blurted out, and his voice, loaded with hatred, pierced me.

I spun around suddenly, eyes wide with surprise.

"What? Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?"

"I know perfectly well what young women like you do. You look for men like my father to take all their money. But I won't allow it."

I felt my face burn with indignation. What was this imbecile saying?

"Look, Damián, I don't want anything from your father. He has me threatened if I don't marry him, and believe me, I'm not in the least bit interested in what he possesses."

I pulled my arm free from his hand and resumed my path to the stairs, but he took two quick steps and caught up with me. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging slightly into my skin.

"Listen to me carefully, Amelie. I will not allow an opportunist like you to take my family's money. I have worked hard since college, so you won't come here now and steal what doesn't belong to you."

I pulled away from his hand with a tug, and looked him up and down with contempt.

"Your warning is unnecessary. Now, I have a wedding to attend."

I rushed down the stairs. My heart was pounding hard. I didn't understand what was really happening in that house; everything seemed to be against me. The fact that my ex-husband was with Rosalía seemed to have ignited everyone's hatred toward me.

I walked through the garden, where Mr. Feldman was already waiting for me. I didn't even know his first name, and I felt uncomfortable constantly having to call him "Mr. Feldman." It was exhausting. Upon seeing me, he sketched a smile, while the guests, every one of them, watched me with disdain. It wasn't just Damián. Every glance pierced me as if I really were a harpy ready to hunt her prey.

In the front, I distinguished my mother next to my two younger sisters. As our eyes met, she smiled and sighed tenderly.

I blinked quickly to hold back my tears.

"You look very beautiful, Amelie," my future husband said softly as he took my hand. His skin was rough, his breath unpleasant, and the mere idea of having to consummate that marriage gave me a sharp pain, like knives plunging into my core.

"Thank you, sir," I replied, and the ceremony began. The priest spoke about the importance of marriage, values, love, and family. Words completely empty in the context we were in. However, my mother radiated happiness, as if none of this were imposed.

The moment for the vows arrived. The priest smiled as we exchanged rings. Mr. Feldman placed mine, and I placed his.

"If anyone objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace," the priest announced, glancing around.

I thought everything would proceed as planned, until, from the back of the garden, a voice thundered:

"I object, Father!"

Everyone turned. I froze solid when I saw her. Rosalía. That stunning blonde with sculpted curves, an angelic face, and an arrogant look advanced decisively, her heels echoing on the ground as she clutched a Versace bag between her fingers.

"I object, Father," she repeated, glaring furiously. "This harpy cannot marry my father. She only wants his money."

I looked at her from head to toe and offered an ironic smile. The sheer audacity was almost impossible to ignore. According to her, I wanted her father's money... but she was the one who stole my husband.

Mr. Feldman looked at her and forced a sarcastic smile. "Seriously, Rosalía? You think you can come here and stop my wedding? You are completely insane."

"Father, please, stop this stupidity. You are causing us national embarrassment."

He shook his head and turned back to the priest. "Continue, Father."

The priest nodded and opened the Bible again, but Rosalía stepped between us, blocking the way.

"I will not allow it, absolutely not!"

"Go with your lover, Rosalía," Feldman cut her off dryly. "And let my future wife and I get married. Otherwise, you'll have to face the damn consequences."

His face, previously kind, hardened completely. He looked at his daughter with brutal coldness, as if she were his worst enemy.

I bowed my head, overwhelmed by shame. Not just for myself, but also for the scene unfolding before everyone.

Rosalía finally stepped aside and passed by me, throwing me a look so full of contempt that it seemed capable of bursting into flames.

"You wretch... this isn't over. You're doing this because of Armando, aren't you?"

I offered a slight smile with the corner of my lips. Of course, I wasn't marrying for Armando. I was doing it for my family. But since the situation allowed it, I couldn't help but enjoy the look of suffering on her face at seeing me next to her father.

"What can I tell you? Oh, and tell Armando not to call me anymore. I'm a married woman now."

Rosalía flushed, breathing with difficulty. She squeezed her purse tightly and, stomping her foot, issued a final threat.

"This is not over, you wretched harpy!"

Finally, I married Mr. Feldman. He held my hand, radiant with happiness, oblivious to the stares or comments he might be provoking among the attendees.

There was no celebration. He led me directly to the car, where Eder was already waiting for us. I got in first, followed by him, and he closed the door firmly.

"We're going to celebrate our wedding night, my dearest Amelie."

My nerves betrayed me. My hands trembled so much I felt they were going to detach from my wrists. I could still back out. Perhaps jail wouldn't be so terrible compared to what awaited me tonight.

But I thought of Danna and Hanna, my sisters, barely teenagers, and my mother, too old to work. They depended on the company... and on my sacrifice.

"Of... course," I replied, my voice shaky.

He looked out the window, smiling contentedly, while I was consumed inside. It wasn't his age that perturbed me. Everyone ages. It was the thought of his hands on my body, of being possessed by him... God, no!

Eder drove for over an hour until we reached a country estate on the outskirts of the city. Another opulent place, full of luxuries that contrasted with the despair engulfing me.

I got out of the car and took a deep breath, seeking some relief in the fresh air. Mr. Feldman walked slowly. This time he didn't hold my hand. He simply walked ahead, signaling the way for me.

"We are going to spend our wedding night here, my dearest wife. I am dying to conceive a son."

I walked quickly behind him, lifting the train of my dress to avoid tripping.

"Mr. Feldman, I need to be honest with you... I cannot consummate our wedding night. Please."

He turned with an even wider smile, as if my words were irrelevant to him.

"Why not? You are my wife. That's what we got married for."

I didn't want to sound cruel or indifferent. Simply, my principles, my preferences, everything in me refused the idea of sleeping with such an old man.

"It's not that I don't want to, sir... it's just that... I'm on my period," I lied, lowering my gaze.

"I have no problem with that, my dearest wife. Come, let's go inside."

The door of the estate opened, and in the background, the living room sparkled with elegance. From an annex, a bubbling jacuzzi could be seen, a table with a bottle of champagne and two glasses ready to be served.

The atmosphere was warm, cozy, romantic... and for me, almost suffocating.

"The master bedroom is over there," he said, pointing to a wooden door at the end of the hallway. "You can change in there. What I want you to wear tonight is on the bed. Rest, take your time... and make yourself beautiful, wife."

I looked at him, perplexed, not knowing how to keep breathing.

"And you? Sir, what will you do?"

"Wait for you, darling," he smiled, showing his yellowish teeth. A shiver ran down my spine at the sight.

"Of course, Mr. Feldman," I nodded and turned to head for the room.

"Amelie," he called me.

"Yes, sir."

"You are a very beautiful woman. I know you will be a good wife. I'll see you at seven. Please, I want you to look sensual."

His insinuating tone provoked deep disgust in me.

"Of course, sir," I replied coldly before rushing to close the door behind me.

I fell, sitting down, leaning my back against the wood. I brought my knuckles to my mouth to stifle the sobs that overflowed, trembling with rage and pain.

My father was making me pay for my mistakes. Because yes, marrying Armando had been a monumental error.

I lifted my gaze toward the bed. On top, a tiny, provocative red lingerie. An outfit made to humiliate me. Disgusting old man! Did he really think I would wear that?

There was also essential oil soap and expensive perfumes. With fury, I threw everything onto the nightstand and collapsed into the sheets, crying inconsolably.

A buzzing in my purse made me react. The phone was vibrating. It was an unknown number.

"Hello," I answered out of inertia, trying to hide my broken voice.

"My love, why haven't you been answering me? I've been looking for you everywhere, darling."

"Armando?" My heart stopped for an instant. "What are you doing calling me?"

"I heard you married Rosalía's father. I know you, Amelie. I know you didn't do it for love, or for gain. We need to talk. I know I made a mistake, a huge one. I regret it, I want to be with you."

I let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh.

"And Rosalía?" I asked coldly.

"That woman is unbearable. She blames me because you married her father. She won't even make me a coffee."

"So, what you need is a maid? Pay for a service."

"No, my love, listen to me... I have plans for us."

Before he could continue talking, I hung up. I got up decisively, went to the bathroom, and got rid of the wedding dress. I stepped into the shower without looking back. I didn't know how long I spent under the water or how many hours I had been alone.

Finally, I put on the damn lingerie, painted my lips red, and sat down in silence, waiting, resigned to the cruel fate that awaited me.

Damián Feldman

My father's marriage was complete madness. I still can't understand how he could marry a woman so young, practically my age... It's absurd to think that woman has good intentions.

She's nothing more than an opportunist, just like Magnolia. Just remembering her name causes a burning in my chest. Damn you, Magnolia!

My phone rang. It was my father.

"How's your wedding night going?" I asked coldly.

"Son, I need you to go to the hill estate. I expect to see you there."

I rolled my eyes when I heard him.

"Why do you want me to go, old man? I have company balance sheets to deliver, I'm working late."

"I want to talk to you. I'll be waiting for you, at seven sharp."

"Father, what are you talking about? It's your wedding night. I don't want to see your wife or celebrate anything."

"I'll see you at seven, my dear Damián. Don't be late."

My father hung up, and I felt my cheeks burn. I had never been able to disobey his orders. I couldn't be like Rosalía. I looked at the clock: six o'clock.

Just in time to go to the Hill estate.

I drove slowly, resisting the idea of being part of that medieval spectacle. Upon arriving, I noticed that the lights of the estate were off. It didn't look like anything was being celebrated.

I took out my keys and opened the door. In front of me, the jacuzzi was on and a bottle of champagne rested next to two glasses. My father, once again, was bordering on the ridiculous.

"Dad! I'm here," I called, but there was no answer.

I sat down in the elegant living room and sent him a message: "I'm here."

He didn't reply.

Then, an intoxicating perfume filled the air. Feminine. Seductive. And slow footsteps broke the silence. I turned instinctively toward the hallway... and blushed.

It was her.

Amelie.

She wore a tiny lingerie that left nothing to the imagination. Her hair fell over her shoulders provocatively, and her crimson red lips stood out with a hypnotic charm.

But her expression... her expression was sad. Of course! Because of seeing me here.

"Amelie, what are you doing walking around the house dressed like that?" I asked, feeling the heat rising up my neck, as she paled.

"You... you, wh-what are you doing here? Mr. Damián, where is my husband?" she asked with evident nervousness, covering herself as best she could with her arms while looking in all directions.

"If you don't know... He was the one who summoned me. Where is my father? Answer me, gold digger!" I snapped at her with contempt. I knew she used her charms to manipulate him. That's why he had married her; he couldn't resist.

I watched her in silence. She was, without a doubt, too attractive. Sensual. Provocative. How was my poor old man going to resist such temptation? She looked spectacular.

I felt the heat rise up my neck and had to loosen my tie a little.

"Damián, please leave," she said, pointing to the door.

"Of course I'm leaving." I took a deep breath and headed for the main exit, the only exit from the estate. I grabbed the doorknob... but it didn't budge. It was locked. Locked from the outside.

"Damn it!"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing... I'm trying to open it." I struggled with the door, but it was useless. There was no escape.

Amelie shook her head and ran toward the master bedroom. She tried to open it... it didn't give way either.

What the hell...? Were we locked in?

I dialed my father's number, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. This whole scene was absurd. And Amelie... she was irresistible, I knew that very well. Gold digger!

"Son," he finally answered.

"Father, what does all this mean?"

"Son, I'm too old to consummate my marriage. The Feldman family needs to prolong its existence... take charge."

The call disconnected, and what I had just heard left me cold. It was terrifying. My own father... wanted me to...?

What?!

Amelie continued to cover her body, nervous, looking around. But I wasn't stupid. It was a trap. I knew exactly what women of her type were like, and rage clouded my mind. I approached her and grabbed her arm firmly.

"What are you trying to achieve with all this, gold digger?"

"What am I trying to achieve? Your father told me to leave the room at seven o'clock, he didn't explain anything else."

"You are a harpy, full of tricks. But as soon as I get out of this estate, I'm going to unmask you." I squeezed her arm tighter. Her eyes fixed on my hand, and slowly filled with tears.

"You're hurting me, Damián," she growled through clenched teeth, her voice cracking.

Upon hearing her, I immediately released her arm and moved away, feeling invaded by a mix of strange feelings, perhaps shame, or rather, too much anger.

"Damn it!" I scoffed, hitting the wall with a closed fist. "What the hell is going on here?"

She went to sit on one of the chairs in the corner, hunching over herself, and I sank against the wall, still stunned. I understood my father's message perfectly, but I couldn't understand how he could ask me for something so... sick. What kind of twisted mind would do that?

We spent the night there, not speaking to each other. The cold was biting, and Amelie was trembling, completely exposed. There were no blankets, no clothes, nothing to cover herself with. I cursed under my breath, got up from the floor, and, without a word, took off my jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

"I don't need it," she said, taking it off and offering it back to me.

"Of course you do. You'll catch a cold," I replied, looking away as I noticed how the fabric barely covered her figure. Her skin, her curves... Her firm breasts, her flat stomach, her hips... Holy heavens! She was my father's wife! How could I even think of her with desire?

She lowered her gaze, took the jacket, and covered herself with it. I returned to my spot without another word.

The night became eternal.

We only exchanged a couple of glances.

But in those few glances... both of us swallowed hard.