Married to My Father-in-law

Emelia’s POV. I stood there before the casket as flowers rained down like the tears running down my cheeks. I’d attended many funerals; “my condolences” was the word used, but never in the past did I think of the implications of that word. Today, every person who whispered it made it feel real. The reality I was trying so hard to escape from came crashing down with every condolence I got. It all had to be a dream, a nasty one I wanted to wake up from, but the pain, the ache, was too real. The bright sky suddenly darkened, and thunder roared as if mourning my loss. My perfect fairy tale, a promise of a lifetime, had lasted for only two years, and he was gone too soon. “My condolences, Mrs. Voss.” Another guest placed a flower over my husband’s casket and then turned and extended a few words. I could only nod. What else was I to say? Thank you? Fate was cruel, and here I was asking why. Why me? “We are gathered here today to lay our son, husband, friend, and colleague to his final resting place. May his gentle soul travel to the world beyond and find rest in the bosom of the Lord.” “Peace.” The word sounded so vague. How could he find peace in a world without me? I was his peace, his bosom, and his home, and now I had to walk back to the coldness of the mansion. The thought of nights ticking away without him made my skin crawl. “You may lower the casket,” the priest ordered. I watched it descend into the ground, its whiteness stained with brown soil. “To love and to hold till death do us part” was our vow, and now death had indeed come too soon, claiming a part of me I was too reluctant to part from. I stepped closer, taking one last look. The white rose fell from my grip onto the pristine white casket. “Fare you well, my love,” I murmured, my voice raspier than expected. One moment, he was kissing me goodbye, and the next, I stood before the cold morgue identifying his body, which was burned beyond recognition. I glanced one last time, letting my tears fall freely into the nine-foot grave… As I turned to leave, my body staggered backward, my vision blurred, and the earth spun beneath me. “Careful,” a hoarse whisper came. Strong arms caught me, holding me close. I needed no one to tell me who it was. That thick, raspy voice belonged to my father-in-law. “Thanks,” I muttered, stepping away, but my body was held firm. His fingers dug into my skin, hurting me with every grip. I struggled, gritted my teeth, and swallowed the pain, but he did not flinch. His eyes remained fixed on the casket, his face cold and unreadable. Don Adrian Voss was not a man of many words. I had met him a few times, including at the wedding, which he had attended briefly. Dante rarely mentioned him, but the mansion carried too many photos of him for me not to recognize him at first glance. As the grave was filled to the brim, the tombstone was placed, and Dante Voss’s name was boldly carved in large letters. I felt my knees buckle, my body betraying me as I fell further into my father-in-law’s embrace. Others would have comforted their daughters-in-law, held them close, and whispered kind words, but not the man before me. “I… I should get going,” I whispered, pushing myself away from his firm grip as the last set of guests walked away, leaving only family and close friends. This time, Adrian Voss did not protest. He let go of me. And without delay, a pair of hands caught me from behind as I quickly lost my balance. It was none other than my younger sister, Amalia. “I will take you home,” Amalia said, and I could only nod. “Home?” A dangerously cold voice hissed from behind. “Yes, home. My sister just lost her husband, and she needs her family,” Amalia answered confidently. The thundering steps of Don Adrian echoed as the stones rustled under his boots. “Family,” he snarled, his voice dripping with malice. “You still belong to this family, Emilia.” The way he said "belong," like I was some property meant to be passed on. Amalia stepped between him and me, but his domineering gaze frightened her so much she hid behind me like a scared puppy. “You’re coming with me.” And without another word, I was tossed over his shoulder like a bag of grain and carried out. I kicked, tossed, and fought, but my fragile body and strength were nothing compared to his. Everything happened so quickly, and soon my frail body slammed against the soft leather seats. “I decide your place,” he added, shutting the door as the car zoomed into the distance. Why was he so aggressive? I hadn't offended him in any way… and the death of his son… No, it was an accident. My thoughts ran through every possible reason, but still nothing tangible surfaced. The city lights blurred before me. People went about their day, and deep down, I was envious of every smile, every couple, their small gestures, and the shine in their eyes. Why couldn’t it be me? Why did it have to be my man, my love, my pillar? Tears streamed down my face, blurring the lights even more. I slouched in the back, my head resting against the window, tears spilling freely. My fairy tale, the happily-ever-after I dreamt of, was over before it began. But the worst seemed yet to come. I don’t know how long it was before the car drove into the huge mansion. A home I once walked into with smiles now felt more haunted than the actual graveyard. The door opened, and my father-in-law dragged me in. The guards bowed, not to me but to him. My body was tossed onto the cold floor of the living area; my black dress swept through my slender legs, displayed like a magazine photo shoot. “Here.” A stack of papers was tossed next to me. My trembling hands reached for them but they were nothing like I expected. “No… “I can’t,” I murmured, my body trembling at the thought of the demands, my heart pounding harder than the moment my husband’s passing was declared. “I can’t!” I roared, staring at my father-in-law coldly. But the man did not flinch. He stepped closer, dangerously close. I could smell the cigarette on his breath mixed with alcohol. His cold eyes scanned my pathetic self. “You don’t get a choice, Emelia,” he whispered. My body shivered; goosebumps covered my skin “But…” my voice trailed. “Sign the marriage contract or have your family on the streets by sunrise.” My breath hitched, my hands trembled, and every part of me refused to betray the vows I’d made to my husband, most especially with his father. “I… am your son’s wife,” I stammered, my eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Exactly. Now, be a good girl and sign the marriage contract,” he commanded.