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."