My Father-In-Law's Bride; The Sin Between Us

Alina I never intended to f**k Mr Whitmore, my husband's father. And I would be a darn liar if I said I had fantasised about it, dreamed about it or even thought about such a disgusting and irritating behaviour. The first time I tasted him, my eyes were shut tight, with my legs spread and him in between my thighs, his muffled breathing ringing deep into my ears, as his sweat dripped heavily on me. I didn’t know how long he lasted. All I can say is that after that day, something died in me. Yeah, I know how this sounds. But trust me, this is not the worst yet. I remember this day like it was yesterday. It was on that fateful day, the same day I just got married to his son, the same night I was supposed to share a bed with my husband, and consummate our marriage, I shared it with my father-in-law. *************** Life had never been fair to me. My life had never been stable because from the very moment things began to seem like they would make sense, it would all come crumbling down. I was the only child of my parents for twelve years, and in those years, I always bothered my parents for a sibling. At first, I thought they were just wicked to not give me one, until I overheard my parents' conversation. “This is the fifth one now, John. I don't think I can do this anymore.” I overheard my mum say as she collapsed into my father's arms, sobbing. I leaned in closer to understand what she meant. “You don't have to try again. We already have a child.” My dad responded as he robbed her back. “But you know Alina. She is always asking for a sibling. What excuse do we tell her”? Taking a deep breath, my dad sniffed in as he tried to control his tears. “She will be fine.” They settled in awkward silence. “What about we just try one last time?” My mum suggested, breaking the silence that lingered. “What else can we possibly try that we haven’t tried? So far, we have had two failed IVFs, two miscarriages, and now our surrogate just miscarried.” I was ten when I overheard this conversation, and by then I understood what a miscarriage and a failed IVF were. Placing my hands over my mouth, I quietly left the corner where I hid and went into my room, crying my eyes out, and in that moment, I swore never to ask for a sibling ever again. And for the next two years, I kept that promise. But then, heaven decided to smile on us again, and my mum conceived, and this time around she carried the pregnancy to term, but calamity struck our household again, and this time it was in the worst way possible. Two weeks before my mother was put to bed, my dad was killed. It was a hit-and-run accident. I didn’t know how the police handled the situation, but there was not much investigation, and the case was swept under the carpet. I heard rumours that the person involved was wealthy and had the police on his payroll. My father's death was the point at which my life was ruined. Five years down the line, my mother remarried, and what I thought was going to be a very terrible decision turned out to be the happiest, as my stepfather treated my younger brother and me like we were his kids. He practically changed our lives and brought laughter back to our faces, and unless told, one would never be able to guess that he was not our biological father. Just when I thought everything would remain perfect the way it was, my mum was diagnosed with cancer barely two years into the marriage, and three years later, the sickness won, officially turning my brother and me into orphans. Yes, you heard me, orphans, because the moment my mother died, my stepfather turned into a different person. I noticed his sudden change in attitude when my mother was first diagnosed and started chemo, but I didn't take it to heart. I mean, everyone was heartbroken with the news, and the bills were on him, so I didn't think much of it. Saying my stepfather was furious or heartbroken was buttering how vile he became towards my brother and me; he practically turned into a beast, showing a side of him I never believed existed. “You witch. You killed your father and your mother, and now you want to kill me too!” he always yelled whenever I offered to do something for him, be it prepare his meal, do his laundry or just crossing paths with him. I knew our days in his house were coming to an end, and I was already saving up to rent an apartment. My brother was just ten, and the toxicity in the house was getting too much. I was twenty-two now, and although my job wasn’t paying much, I was still able to save. Finally, after six agonising months, I was finally ready to leave with my brother, but was met with the shock of my life. “And where do you think you are going to be by this time of the night?” I felt a cold chill down my spine, and stopped in my tracks as I heard his voice. He was supposed to be asleep. What was he doing downstairs at this hour? I thought as I tried to think of a perfect excuse. “I asked a question, and I deserve an answer,” he added, breaking the silence that settled between us. Taking a deep breath, I turned towards the kitchen, as his voice came from there. He stood still with a bottle of water in one hand and a glass in the other. Come on, of all days for him to come down and drink water, he chose today? “I am leaving, sir.” I finally got the courage to respond, whatever happens, happens. “What do you mean by that?” he asked with obvious confusion in his voice “I am leaving your house, sir, and it would be better if you fo not try to stop me. Thank you for everything you did for us, but we can no longer stay under your roof.” I replied, feeling proud of my courage and response. Of course, I had to be courageous; no one was coming to save me, and I was literally the only one my brother had to protect him and give him the best. But just when I thought I had things under control, he snapped. “On whose permission?” “I dont understand.” He chuckled. “Of course you would not understand, dumb girl.” I scoffed. For a split second there, I almost thought he was about to be sorry for making me feel the need to want to leave, but I guess this was who he truly was. “You are not allowed to leave this house or my life until I say so. Now take those bags upstairs and take your brother back to bed; he has to be in school tomorrow.” “About that, he won’t be...” I paused for a brief second and took in a deep breath. “You have no right to keep us locked up, and besides, I am already an adult, so I have the freedom to leave whenever I feel like,” I replied, changing the topic quickly. I had wanted to tell him that I had already changed my brother's school. But that was not necessary, and I didn’t want him to know. He let a loud laugh for a few seconds as he walked to a corner, where he poured the water into the glass and took a long gulp. “I am not locking you up, but until you pay the debt you owe, you are not going anywhere, and you are my property,” he stated with all seriousness. Furrowing my brows, I tried to understand what he meant. “I never took any money from you, so I owe you nothing,” I responded. “Well, you don’t, but your mum did.” “I don’t understand,” “You think chemotherapy comes cheap?” he asked as he began explaining how his insurance wasn’t able to cover my mother's treatment, and that made him borrow a huge loan that he was now unable to pay, which had left him in a huge debt. I knew that explanation still had nothing to do with me. She was his wife at the time, and his responsibility, so dragging me into his problem was just crazy, but I had to compose myself. “I do not owe you anything, sir, but since that is how you want to play it, fine, I will play by your game. I will help you come up with a part payment, and you will cover the rest.” I offered, but it seemed like my words fell on deaf ears. “You will pay up every single penny, down to the last cent,” he stated. I clenched my fist tightly as I took in a long and deep breath to calm my nerves down. “So how much are we talking about here?” “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” he announced, and with it came a loud thud, which startled me to the core. I turned around quickly to see what it was, and to my utmost horror, I saw my brother on the floor in the pool of his own blood and unconscious.