Wishing for my husband´s child

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!"