My Fiancé Actually Has Three Sisters

In the living room, a massive, dark table loomed under the dim lighting.

The men gathered around were smoking and chatting in clusters; their eyes fixated on me as though they hadn't seen a woman in years.

Their stares were unabashed and unsettling.

I instinctively covered my chest and turned to leave, but Roger grabbed my wrist firmly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Where are you going? You're the star of the show today!"

"But I'm dressed like this?" I whispered, still in disbelief.

It was hard to reconcile that my well-off fiancé lived in this gloomy, spider-webbed shack.

"Vivian, come on! Everyone's waiting for you!" An elderly woman approached, pulling my hand with surprising strength. Her face, wrinkled and revealing yellowed teeth, made me shudder.

I yanked my hand away. "Don't touch me!"

The men in the room burst into laughter. "Oh, she's a spicy one!"

"The flavor's perfect!"

Feeling their scrutinizing gazes, I refused to step inside.

Roger pointed at the elderly woman. "This is my mom. You need to call her ‘Mom.'"

"Seriously?" I gaped at the woman, whose face was a spitting image of Roger's but looked seventy at least, despite Roger being in his twenties.

Seeing my shock, Amanda, as she introduced herself, pulled out two heavy gold bracelets from her pocket and slipped them onto my wrists.

She leaned in and whispered, "New brides need to go through a bit of teasing. You're shy, so just bear with it for now."

The bracelets were worth at least 100 thousand.

I hesitated for a second before she tugged me inside.

The room erupted into chaos as soon as I entered.

The nearest uncles lifted me up as a group, and I was gently placed on a glass turntable in the middle of the room.

Kneeling on the table, I felt like a small, embarrassed animal.

The noise grew louder as I realized everyone's eyes were on me.

"Ah…" I tried to reach for my coat, shouting, "Roger, are you a statue? Get me down now!"

Roger just waved dismissively, standing at the door without moving.

"Roger, let me down, or I'll call the cops!"

"Call the cops? You're overreacting!" Amanda rolled her eyes from the sidelines.

The spinning slowed as the uncles nearest to me pulled out stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

The man closest to me placed a stack gently on the table, followed by others who did the same.

Is this their version of a gift?