Consummating The Marriage

In a smoke-filled office, shadows clawing at the walls, Dahlia (Jane Wilde) pores over the ironclad contract, her fingers tracing the devil's fine print. Across the desk, Roger, her iron-fisted father, broods in silence, the air thick with unspoken venom. The deal's cutthroat: billions in his empire handed to her on a silver platter—his retirement ticket. But Roger's a relic, chained to old-world poison. Dahlia's a dyke through and through, yet he won't budge until she weds a man, fucks him raw, and spits out an heir to carry his bloodline. The papers seal it—if she craves that high-roller life, she'll swallow the pill. As her pen slashes the signature, defiance burns in her gaze like a lit fuse. Weeks bleed by, and Dahlia drags her sham hubby, Rick (Dante Colle), into Roger's lair to parade their 'union.' It's all smoke and mirrors, a cold merger of flesh and ambition, but Roger—blinded by his obsession—buys the act, fixated only on his twisted clause fulfilled. Suspicion creeps in when Dahlia coolly boasts they've banged it out, her earlier rebellion echoing like a slap. With a smirk sharp as a switchblade, she taunts him: 'Don't buy it? Watch us screw right here, old man.' Roger doesn't flinch or laugh it off. His hunger for control overrides everything—he nods, eyes hungry, agenda devouring any shred of decency.