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.

Damián Feldman

I heard the lock on the door and woke up abruptly.

I had fallen asleep leaning against the wall; when I looked ahead, reality returned with bitterness. My father's wife was still there, sleeping soundly, wrapped in my jacket. Her small figure was barely noticeable beneath the fabric.

"Hey! Gold digger," I shouted from where I was.

She stirred slightly, wincing in pain as she tried to turn her neck.

"What's wrong?" she asked, still half-asleep.

"It's morning! The door is open. I'm leaving."

"And what about me?" she retorted brazenly, shrinking even more as she clutched the jacket.

"I need the other part of my suit," I scoffed in annoyance.

Noticing she still had it on, she was startled and abruptly took it off.

"I'm sorry... I..."

I walked up to her and snatched the jacket away. She looked at me like a defenseless creature, her eyes glistening and her arms wrapped around her body once more. My father's wife was undoubtedly an expert in the art of deception.

I shook my head and, taking advantage of the open door, walked out. The morning light hit my eyes fully, and I felt the weight of fatigue from not sleeping in my own bed. My father was going to hear from me, that was for sure.

I was about to get into my car when his appeared. Eder got out of the passenger seat and, on the other side, my father descended, leaning on his cane.

"My dear son! How was your night?" he asked with a pretentious smile.

"Dad, explain to me, what does all this mean?" I said, pointing toward the estate.

He smiled brazenly, gently tapping his cane on the ground.

"Come with me, son," he said, indicating his car.

"My car is here, I can't leave it."

"I'll send someone for it. Get in!"

I rolled my eyes and followed him, grumbling under my breath. I assumed he was annoyed because I spent the night with his woman. It was to be expected.

I sat next to him, and he took some documents out of his briefcase.

"Read them, Junior, please."

"Father, don't call me Junior. My name is Damián. My mother tried very hard when choosing that name for me. Don't call me Junior." I snatched the papers and began to read them carefully.

"Contract of Concession. The entire Feldman fortune will be ceded to the family's new heir: the third child of Bartolomé Damián Feldman..."

Every word of that document chilled my blood.

My father's third child?

That damn gold digger! She had already managed to trap him with a pregnancy.

"Father, I've never been interested in your inheritance, but tell me... what third child are you talking about?" I asked, feeling my throat dry.

"The third child I'm going to have with Amelie," he replied with complete naturalness.

A shiver ran down my spine.

"Is that woman... pregnant before the marriage? And who assures you it's yours, Dad? If you... well, you know... you are..."

My father hit me on the head and frowned.

"Shut up, idiot! Of course, she's not pregnant before the marriage. It's obvious I can't conceive a child, but you can."

"What? Me what?" I stammered. "Dad, what is going on here?"

"You and Rosalía have only given me headaches these years. You don't deserve my money. Nor do I plan to donate it to a foundation. I want a third child."

"And you are the one who carries my genes. That's why I've come to ask you for something."

His voice was grave, sharp. The question I had in mind about what happened the night before vanished. He himself was giving me the answer.

"I won't do anything that violates my principles or my morals, Father. I refuse. What you insinuated last night was sickening, outlandish... disgusting." I swallowed with difficulty. Amelie was too desirable, and my head was spinning around her figure, which made everything even worse.

"It's not disgusting. I want an heir, and I don't trust artificial insemination."

"Father... are you asking me to...?" Nausea invaded me as I tried to finish the sentence. "Me to...? Damn it, it's aberrant, she's my stepmother."

"Yes, I want you to somehow seduce Amelie. To take her to bed, make her happy... and conceive my son."

I completely paled and slumped against the seat, powerless.

"Damn it, Bartolomé Feldman, I won't do it! I absolutely refuse. I'm taking you to a psychiatrist, you're completely crazy. That woman... that damn woman seduced you. Of course! Since my sister took her husband, now she wants revenge on our family."

My father didn't say anything. He remained silent, observing me with an expression so serene that it completely disarmed me. I fell silent, waiting for some reaction, but there wasn't even a blink.

"Then that is a no?"

"Of course. It's a resounding no," I replied, looking at him defiantly. "And for the damn car. I'm not going anywhere else with you."

"Junior, son..."

"Don't call me that! Why don't you ask my sister? For money, she'd surely be delighted. She'd give you half a dozen grandchildren if you asked her!"

"I don't want a grandson. I want a son, Damián... I'm asking you for the last time: could you give me a son?"

"Not a chance, Father."

The car stopped abruptly. Eder got out of his seat, circled the vehicle, and opened the back door. He looked at me with contempt and grabbed my arm forcefully.

"Get out!" he ordered, as if he were a stranger.

"What's wrong with you, imbecile? I'll get out myself. Don't touch me, I'm your boss."

My father muttered under his breath, almost scornfully. "You were."