Seeing that I was truly about to leave, Vino panicked. His tone softened immediately.

"Alright," he said. "I admit there was a misunderstanding between you and my parents today. I'll explain everything to them properly. Just come back with me first—let's not blow things out of proportion."

I didn’t respond. I simply kept walking.

The scorching summer sun beat down mercilessly, making me feel lightheaded. My lips were dry and chapped, on the verge of cracking. But I didn’t stop.

I thought back to when Vino first came to meet my parents. They had flat-out refused to approve of him.

But I was the one who insisted they give him a chance.

Vino knelt at our doorstep for three days and nights, swearing up and down that his intentions were pure. In the end, my parents reluctantly gave in—for my sake.

And now?

Now I realize just how clear-sighted they were.

I had chosen the wrong person.

Suddenly, a loud honk blared behind me. I jumped, startled.

A Porsche was speeding toward me—my car. Vino was driving.

I walked up to the vehicle, expression cold. “Give me back my car.”

Vino leaned out the window. “Misca, get in the car. Come back with me.”

“My mom knows she was wrong. She even slaughtered a pig and made tons of dishes just to apologize to you.”

I frowned. “No need. Just give me my car back.”

Vino insisted, “Misca, do you even know what it means when someone slaughters a pig here? It’s the most elaborate way to welcome a guest. If you don’t go back, it’ll be humiliating for my mother.”

The sun was making me dizzy and my patience had run out.

“She slaughtered a pig. And what does that have to do with me?” I snapped.

“She treats me like garbage and tells me to get out—and now that she’s cooked a few dishes, I should just go back?”

“She butchers a pig and suddenly expects everything to be fine?”

“Vino, you keep saying you love me. Is this how you show it?”

I pulled out a stack of cash from my bag, didn’t bother counting it and shoved it into his arms.

“Consider this payment for her pig, alright?”

“Now get out of the car. I’m driving myself home.”

Vino looked at me, eyes dark. After a long pause, he said quietly, “Are you really leaving?”

I nodded.

He gave a heavy sigh. “If you leave now, we’re over. Misca, think it through.”

I let out a cold laugh. “I already have.”

Vino was quiet for a beat, then said, “Fine. Get in. I’ll drive you back.”

“You’re not feeling well. You’ve been in the sun too long. It’s dangerous for you to drive like this.”

I hesitated for a moment. Then I got into the passenger seat.

My head was spinning from the heat. I grabbed a bottle of water, drank deeply and leaned back with my eyes closed, letting the air conditioning cool me down.

But less than ten minutes later, the car came to an abrupt stop.

I opened my eyes—and realized Vino had driven us straight back to his house.

He had tricked me again.

I immediately reached for the door, ready to get out, but Vino was already there. He opened the door and pulled me out.

“Misca,” he pleaded, “for the sake of all the years we’ve been together, can’t you just stop being so stubborn?”

He said this while dragging me toward his house.

He was stronger than me and his pace was fast. I stumbled several times trying to keep up, nearly falling.

As we entered the yard, I saw a crowd—men and women scattered across the courtyard, some standing, some squatting, all eating from bowls and chatting loudly.

Vino dragged me inside and pushed me toward a large table.

Several women sat there, smiling as if nothing had happened.

Deborah was among them. She glanced at me coldly, then went back to eating, completely ignoring me.

I turned to Vino.

“Is this the apology you were talking about?”

Vino frowned and leaned in close, whispering, “There are a lot of people here. Don’t say anything. I’ll handle this.”

Then, turning to his mother, he said loudly, “Mom, Misca realizes she was wrong. She’s agreed to buy a house.”

I stared at him, stunned. “What?”

I was so furious I laughed.

Vino—so used to lying—had done it again. So this whole “apology” was a lie. It wasn’t his mother apologizing to me—it was me apologizing to her?

Seeing my face darken, Vino leaned in again and whispered, “Misca, all the relatives are here today. Whatever you want to say, hold it in until they’ve gone.”

“You give me face and I’ll give you results. Let’s respect each other, okay?”

Just then, a curious woman wandered over and asked, “Buying a house? What’s that about?”

With pride in his voice, Vino answered, “My wife is buying five houses for our family—two for my uncles and three for my aunts.”

Gasps echoed around the courtyard.

People murmured in amazement. “Vino really married well! She’s bringing wealth to the entire family!”

A few even turned to his mother and said, “You’re truly blessed.”

Deborah looked pleased, though she pretended to stay modest. “It’s nothing worth bragging about. Our Vino is talented—if she hadn’t been so eager to please us, would we have accepted her?”

The crowd nodded in agreement. “That’s right, that’s right.”

Then Deborah gave me a cold glance and added with deliberate emphasis, “How can you be so clueless? With so many elders present, where’s your greeting gift?”

Before I could even respond, Vino had already snatched my wallet and began handing out all the cash inside to the people nearby.

Some of the relatives who didn’t receive any looked annoyed.

Deborah’s face darkened with shame. She looked me up and down and said sharply, “Once you marry into the Fitzgerald family, you should act appropriately. What’s with all that flashy jewelry?”

Without hesitation, Vino reached over and removed my earrings, passing them out like party favors.

Then he reached for my necklace.

I stepped back, protecting it, my voice trembling. “Vino! That necklace is a keepsake from my grandmother.”

He frowned. “I’ll buy you a better one later. Your gift today wasn’t enough—you should make up for it with something else.”

Some of the relatives seemed uneasy, murmuring, “Isn’t this going a bit too far?”

Vino just shrugged. “It’s fine.”

And with that, he reached forward and snapped my necklace in two.

I lunged to stop him, but he shoved me hard and I fell to the ground.

By the time I got up, he had torn the necklace into several pieces and was handing them out.

“It’s gold,” he announced with a smile. “Misca is giving these as gifts.”

The villagers looked uncomfortable, but none of them returned the gold—they all pocketed the pieces.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “Vino! Do you take me for a fool? You’ve gone too far!”

The courtyard fell silent.

Then came the whispers.

“Vino is the golden phoenix of our village. How could he end up with such a disrespectful woman? Shouting at her husband in front of everyone…”

“An outsider’s wife causing trouble? She deserves a good beating.”

Another person turned to Deborah. “We heard yelling from your house this morning. What’s going on? Is the new daughter-in-law so wild even you can’t control her?”

Those words struck a nerve.

Deborah stood up and slapped me hard across the face.

“What are you screaming for?” she snapped. “You’re just a junior here. Do you think you have the right to speak?”

I was so furious I lost all sense of reason. I wanted to fight back, but Vino shoved me hard, slamming me into the corner of the wall.

Tears welled in my eyes as I nodded bitterly.

“Alright. Alright. Vino, I finally see who you really are.”

I turned to leave, but he yanked me back roughly.

His face twisted with rage, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Misca, I was trying to settle things peacefully today,” he growled. “But if you insist on making trouble, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

“Let go of me,” I snapped coldly.

But instead of letting go, he tightened his grip.

“Sit back down,” he ordered, dragging me toward the house.

I fumbled for my phone and quickly dialed my father, but before I could even say a word, Vino grabbed the phone from my hand.

Without hesitation, he hurled it to the ground and stomped on it, shattering it into pieces.

I stared in disbelief, stunned by the man in front of me.

This wasn’t the Vino I knew—the one who used to be gentle, attentive, always calm.

No. The man standing in front of me now was a wild beast consumed by rage.

“If you don’t let me go,” I said through clenched teeth, “I’ll sue you for illegal detention.”

Before Vino could reply, his mother appeared. She raised her hand and struck me across the face again.

“Detention? You’re part of the Fitzgerald Family now,” she snapped. “You’re our daughter-in-law.”

“If we say you stay, then you stay. Who gave you the right to come and go as you please?”

Vino didn’t lift a finger to defend me. Instead, he held me even tighter, his grip like iron.

“I’m only engaged to Vino,” I spat, glaring at his mother.

She pointed toward the courtyard table.

“After eating at the pig slaughter feast, you're married. You think our family treats weddings like a joke?”

My head was spinning.

Did Vino deceive me into coming back just to force a marriage?

“This is your idea of a wedding?” I shouted at them all.

“This whole thing was done without my consent!”

“And besides, Vino is supposed to marry into my family. Even if we were to get married, I wouldn’t belong to the Fitzgerald Family!”

“You have no right to keep me here!”

Vino exploded.

“What nonsense are you spewing about marrying into your family?!”

Before I could react, he slapped me hard.

The blow was so fierce I was knocked off my feet.

But he didn’t stop there—he kicked me again and again, his rage out of control.

The villagers stood by watching, not a single one stepping in. Instead, they whispered among themselves.

“Has she lost her mind? Asking Vino to marry into her family? Vino’s the pride of our village.”

“She’s unruly. A beating is exactly what she needs. She’ll be obedient after this.”

He beat me for what felt like half an hour.

By the time he finally stopped, I was black and blue, my mind barely holding on.

In a daze, I felt several people drag me up and prostrate myself—bowing to heaven and earth as if a wedding ceremony had been completed.

Then they tossed me into a small, dark room.

Click.

A heavy iron lock fell into place behind me.

I collapsed onto a pile of straw, my whole body aching so badly I could hardly breathe.

Outside, I could hear the sounds of dishes clinking and chairs being moved—the Fitzgerald family was cleaning up after their so-called “wedding banquet.”

I wanted to run, to get away from this madness, but I couldn’t even stand.

Somewhere between pain and fear, I passed out.

When I woke up, it was the middle of the night.

My head throbbed, but I forced myself up, one step at a time. I limped to the door and tried the handle, but it was locked tight. There was no way out.

Then I heard voices—faint, muffled, coming from the next room.

I pressed my ear against the wooden door, straining to listen.

It was Deborah.

“Vino,” she said quietly, “have you really become a son-in-law?”