Damián Feldman
I heard the lock on the door and woke up abruptly.
I had fallen asleep leaning against the wall; when I looked ahead, reality returned with bitterness. My father's wife was still there, sleeping soundly, wrapped in my jacket. Her small figure was barely noticeable beneath the fabric.
"Hey! Gold digger," I shouted from where I was.
She stirred slightly, wincing in pain as she tried to turn her neck.
"What's wrong?" she asked, still half-asleep.
"It's morning! The door is open. I'm leaving."
"And what about me?" she retorted brazenly, shrinking even more as she clutched the jacket.
"I need the other part of my suit," I scoffed in annoyance.
Noticing she still had it on, she was startled and abruptly took it off.
"I'm sorry... I..."
I walked up to her and snatched the jacket away. She looked at me like a defenseless creature, her eyes glistening and her arms wrapped around her body once more. My father's wife was undoubtedly an expert in the art of deception.
I shook my head and, taking advantage of the open door, walked out. The morning light hit my eyes fully, and I felt the weight of fatigue from not sleeping in my own bed. My father was going to hear from me, that was for sure.
I was about to get into my car when his appeared. Eder got out of the passenger seat and, on the other side, my father descended, leaning on his cane.
"My dear son! How was your night?" he asked with a pretentious smile.
"Dad, explain to me, what does all this mean?" I said, pointing toward the estate.
He smiled brazenly, gently tapping his cane on the ground.
"Come with me, son," he said, indicating his car.
"My car is here, I can't leave it."
"I'll send someone for it. Get in!"
I rolled my eyes and followed him, grumbling under my breath. I assumed he was annoyed because I spent the night with his woman. It was to be expected.
I sat next to him, and he took some documents out of his briefcase.
"Read them, Junior, please."
"Father, don't call me Junior. My name is Damián. My mother tried very hard when choosing that name for me. Don't call me Junior." I snatched the papers and began to read them carefully.
"Contract of Concession. The entire Feldman fortune will be ceded to the family's new heir: the third child of Bartolomé Damián Feldman..."
Every word of that document chilled my blood.
My father's third child?
That damn gold digger! She had already managed to trap him with a pregnancy.
"Father, I've never been interested in your inheritance, but tell me... what third child are you talking about?" I asked, feeling my throat dry.
"The third child I'm going to have with Amelie," he replied with complete naturalness.
A shiver ran down my spine.
"Is that woman... pregnant before the marriage? And who assures you it's yours, Dad? If you... well, you know... you are..."
My father hit me on the head and frowned.
"Shut up, idiot! Of course, she's not pregnant before the marriage. It's obvious I can't conceive a child, but you can."
"What? Me what?" I stammered. "Dad, what is going on here?"
"You and Rosalía have only given me headaches these years. You don't deserve my money. Nor do I plan to donate it to a foundation. I want a third child."
"And you are the one who carries my genes. That's why I've come to ask you for something."
His voice was grave, sharp. The question I had in mind about what happened the night before vanished. He himself was giving me the answer.
"I won't do anything that violates my principles or my morals, Father. I refuse. What you insinuated last night was sickening, outlandish... disgusting." I swallowed with difficulty. Amelie was too desirable, and my head was spinning around her figure, which made everything even worse.
"It's not disgusting. I want an heir, and I don't trust artificial insemination."
"Father... are you asking me to...?" Nausea invaded me as I tried to finish the sentence. "Me to...? Damn it, it's aberrant, she's my stepmother."
"Yes, I want you to somehow seduce Amelie. To take her to bed, make her happy... and conceive my son."
I completely paled and slumped against the seat, powerless.
"Damn it, Bartolomé Feldman, I won't do it! I absolutely refuse. I'm taking you to a psychiatrist, you're completely crazy. That woman... that damn woman seduced you. Of course! Since my sister took her husband, now she wants revenge on our family."
My father didn't say anything. He remained silent, observing me with an expression so serene that it completely disarmed me. I fell silent, waiting for some reaction, but there wasn't even a blink.
"Then that is a no?"
"Of course. It's a resounding no," I replied, looking at him defiantly. "And for the damn car. I'm not going anywhere else with you."
"Junior, son..."
"Don't call me that! Why don't you ask my sister? For money, she'd surely be delighted. She'd give you half a dozen grandchildren if you asked her!"
"I don't want a grandson. I want a son, Damián... I'm asking you for the last time: could you give me a son?"
"Not a chance, Father."
The car stopped abruptly. Eder got out of his seat, circled the vehicle, and opened the back door. He looked at me with contempt and grabbed my arm forcefully.
"Get out!" he ordered, as if he were a stranger.
"What's wrong with you, imbecile? I'll get out myself. Don't touch me, I'm your boss."
My father muttered under his breath, almost scornfully. "You were."
