Married to My Father-in-law

Side Piece

Emilia’s POV

I stood before the courthouse, a possessive hand tightly wrapped around my waist as he guided my steps forward. I could only move alongside Don Adrian into the final nailing of my confinement. Staff bowed at his presence, and worst of all, the minister of marriage affairs stood ready to officiate our wedding. This was ridiculous. Who marries the widow of his son barely two days after his burial? Well… Don Adrian Vos.

I stood, my hands trembling as I read vows I did not mean. I was marrying a man I could never love.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister announced. No one clapped; of course, the room was empty. He had not only made it private but had taken it to a new level.

But my nightmare was only about to begin.

As I walked out of the courthouse with our marriage certificates in hand, a car suddenly pulled over at full speed. A block of guards lined up before us like human bullets, and Don Adrian took my hand, shielding me with his body.

“Emilia!” The stern, cold voice of my sister rang through the premises, catching more attention than I desired.

“Come out, you slut,” she cursed, but the men stood still as I peeped from behind.

“What, are you going to hide forever? You won’t even face your family after the humiliation you’ve caused us?” Amalia growled.

“Emilia…” a second voice called, this time softer and calm.

“Dad,” I whispered and quickly rushed forward, pushing my way past the guards, who turned to the Don for approval before letting me through.

When I said a small crowd…. No, I was wrong; too many eyes were on us, and worst of all, cameras had started clicking. Capturing something about the Voss family was an instant blowup.

“Dad,” I stepped closer, but my father stepped away, holding up his nose as if my breath stung.

“I…”

“You what?” Amalia spat bitterly.

“You should have told us from the start that this was the plan… to marry the son and kill him, then marry the father!”

My face drained. I don’t know how or when, but my hands landed on her soft cheeks, leaving full prints of my delicate, long fingers.

“I am your elder sister, and I won’t have you talk to me, and most especially about my husband, in such a manner!”

Amalia held her cheek, her eyes burning with rage. “You will slap me over a man?” she cried.

“I didn’t mean him; I meant Dan...” I tried defending my actions, but it was useless; Amalia wouldn't let me finish.

“I warned him! I told him it was better to choose another than marry a slut, but then he said he loved you too much… and now you are married to his father barely two days after crying over his casket like you were willing to be buried with him!”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. She was right. I wished I could die; I called on death—but here I am, married to his father.

“Dad,” I stepped closer, but my father raised a hand, stopping me.

“Your husband would be turning in his grave,” he murmured and walked away. “From this moment onwards, you cease to be part of the Hartleys.”

My father’s words echoed, and I just watched my sister guide him to the car.

“Amalia,” I called and rushed forward, but she pushed me to the side and got into the driver’s seat.

“Just like our brother… you’re death to the family,” she sneered and zoomed away.

I stood still, my body vibrating. How could they leave me? I had so much to tell them; they didn’t even give me the chance to explain…

But amongst all the questions racking my brain, one stood out. My body shivered as cold ran through me. My tears suddenly stopped, and I turned to the root of my problems.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” His eyes narrowed as my steps clicked forward.

“You told them about the marriage…” The words choked, and his lips curled.

“Be good,” he whispered, stepping forward.

But I stepped back. “D...Don’t.” My voice trembled.

“Don’t make me, Lia,” he whispered, his voice dangerously cold.

“Don’t call me that,” I hissed, my body burning with rage.

“My condition still stands. Get in the car, or else your parents…”

I didn’t let him finish as I opened the door and slammed it as hard as I could. The crowd gasped, but he followed after me calmly.

Deep in my head, I wanted to show him to the world for the monster he was. I knew every video and picture would be posted, and maybe he would demand a divorce, and I would be free. I smiled as the thought of divorcing him settled in.

The ride was quiet, my eyes stared at the road, and soon we arrived at the mansion. I didn’t wait for his command. I rushed to my room, grabbing my phone from the nightstand where I had left it charging. My smile broadened as I clicked on one of the videos posted. My stomach churned as I read through the caption.

“The new Mrs. Voss,” I read out loud.

“Cute couple,” another post came up.

There was nothing about what had happened; the internet was streaming with praises and acknowledgment. I combed the net but there was nothing about my quarrel with Amalia, my family disowning me, or my husband's dominance. Rather, it was flooded with cute pictures of us walking out of court with our marriage certificate.

Deep down, I felt my heart give out. My only ticket to freedom was crushed before me. Who would have thought Adrian Voss not only controlled the mafia but also the visual world?

But my predicament wasn’t over. Just as I was about to turn off my phone, a new message popped up. I clicked it without thinking. It was from a strange number. A video began playing, and my eyes were suddenly glued to the screen.

The video was of a man and a woman making out in a car. The windows were half-rolled down, but from the bright blonde hair and the tight gown, I knew it was Amalia. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was the same dress she had worn for her birthday three weeks ago.

“Come to me if you want the full video,” a text came in.

I sighed and tossed the phone, but my heart pounded. Something just flashed, and I quickly picked the phone back up, replaying the video.

The man’s face was hidden, but then, in a flash, within seconds, he turned, and the rearview mirror caught his visage.

“Oh my God…” my lips trembled, and my hands went to my mouth.

“No… It can’t be…”

But then the truth was staring me in the face. My sister was my husband's side piece.