My father-in-law served me soup every Saturday, and I would wake up three hours later with my blouse buttoned wrong. My husband always said, “Your blood pressure dropped,” until I recorded seven forbidden seconds.
I told them not to sign a single page without first checking the deeds, the official appraisals, and the local zoning permits. From that day on, my father in law started treating me with false, performative politeness, as if I were a mere obstacle in his path.
An obstacle that clearly had to be removed or overcome. A heavy, calloused hand reached out toward my neck to check if I was truly asleep.
I opened my eyes wide and kicked with every ounce of my remaining strength. Victor screamed as he fell backward against a heavy oak chair, crashing to the floor with a loud thud.
“Damn it, she was awake the whole time!” Victor shouted while scrambling to regain his balance.
I lunged toward the door, but Brian caught me by the arm and pulled me back toward the bed. “Daniela, please, just try to calm down and listen to us,” Brian pleaded with a panicked expression.
“Don’t you ever touch me again!” I screamed, my voice shaking with pure, unadulterated rage.
Frank went completely white, his composure shattered by my sudden defiance. Martha appeared in the hallway, trembling as she gripped the doorframe for support.
“Mom, please look at me, did you know about this all along?” I asked, my heart breaking at the sight of her face.
She simply lowered her gaze, unable to meet my eyes, and that silence was worse than any verbal confession. Frank regained his control in a matter of seconds, his face hardening into a mask of cold arrogance.
“Look, Daniela, don’t you dare make a scene here, because nobody actually did anything to you yet,” he threatened. “We just need your signature on those documents to finalize the deal.”
“My signature, is that why you drugged me?” I spat back, feeling sick to my stomach.
