The daughter-in-law dilema

 "Please don't look at me like that," Peter murmured, his voice shaking as his eyes avoided Andrew's fixed gaze, now on Clara's body.

Andrew crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you get it yet, Peter? I'm your wife... until one of us signs the divorce papers, that's what we're going to be, forever." Clara's soft voice was cold and sharp. "So while you insist on stalling, we'll just go on as it always has been. You and Clara."

Peter rubbed his temples, as if trying to ward off the madness that hung in the air. "This... this is so strange, Dad. How do you expect us to make this work? And please tell me... how did Clara, my wife, agree to all this insanity? None of this makes sense!" He was on the verge of a breakdown, his thoughts caught between confusion and despair.

Andrew, in Clara's elegant and delicate body, leaned forward, his lips curved in a smile that didn't match his young face. "Oh, Peter, you've always been so naive. Clara only married you for one reason: money. She grew up in poverty, and our family fortune was what attracted her, not you. She never really loved you, she was just waiting for the right moment for you to kick the bucket and finally get your hands on everything." 

Peter fell silent, his stomach churning. "You're lying... that can't be true..." 

"Wake up, Peter!" Andrew stood up suddenly, the sound of his heels echoing on the cold floor. "She was never with you for love. When I realized that, I offered her a deal: she could have all the money she ever wanted, if she gave me one thing in return." 

Peter stared at him, not understanding. "What did you gain from that? Why do such an absurd thing?"

 Andrew's smile widened, his eyes shining with a mischief that Peter had never seen on Clara's face. "Simple. She has a young, healthy body, free of vices... unlike me, who already had a weak heart. Clara can live out the rest of the months she has left with the money I promised." 

Peter staggered, as if he had been punched. "Months? What are you talking about?" Andrew shrugged, his expression almost indifferent now. "Oh, sure. I forgot to mention that part. Her current body is terminally ill. According to the doctors, she only has six months to live. I, on the other hand..." He looked at himself in the mirror, admiring Clara's reflection. "I have this new whole life ahead of me."

Peter could barely breathe. Andrew's words echoed in his mind, causing an internal confusion that he could not process. "And now... what will become of us?" His voice was almost a whisper, full of disbelief and fear.

Andrew, in Clara's body, approached with slow and calculated steps, the sound of his heels echoing in the silent room. He stopped right in front of Peter, lifting his chin with a finger, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "What will become of us?" he repeated, his voice now low, filled with something almost predatory. "Well, darling... you are still my husband. And as long as neither of us signs the divorce, all the obligations that come with it will still stand."

Peter's eyes widened, feeling the blood run cold in his veins. "What... what are you talking about?"

Andrew tilted his head, a mischievous smile forming on his lips. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Peter." He slid his delicate fingers down Peter's chest, the touch making the man flinch. "This isn't just about appearances and social conventions. We are husband and wife, and that means all marital obligations continue, no exceptions."

Peter took a stumbling step back, trying to get away from their proximity. "This is crazy, dad! You... you can't expect me... to do this!"

Andrew let out a low, cruel laugh. "Oh, but that's exactly what I expect, Peter." He took another step forward, closing the distance between them again. "Don't think that just because I'm in Clara's body that it changes anything. You swore before the law that you would honor your vows, for better or for worse." He paused, his gaze growing even more intense. "And now, my dear, it's time to fulfill your part."

The silence that followed was almost palpable, thick as the air in an impending storm. Peter was pale, his mind spinning as he tried to understand what was happening, but Andrew watched him with a mixture of pleasure and coldness, enjoying the psychological torture he was causing.

"So what's it going to be, Peter?" Andrew asked, his tone soft, almost sweet, but with an underlying venom. "Are you going to do your duty as a husband? Or are you going to live this charade and suffer the consequences... all of them?"

Peter shook his head, trying to piece together a puzzle that seemed impossible to put together. "Why Clara? Why not anyone else?" His voice was full of confusion and disbelief. "You could have chosen anyone. Why her?"

Andrew took a step back, crossing his arms and regarding Peter with a mixture of contempt and impatience, as if he were explaining something obvious. "Logistics, my dear. Clara was the perfect choice, precisely because everything would stay... in the family." He paused, letting Peter absorb his words. "If she accepted the proposal, I wouldn't have to worry about the inheritance going to strangers. Upon my death, you would inherit everything, as it should be. And, as your wife, she would be entitled to half. All the money would go exactly where it should."

Peter swallowed hard. "But... why did she accept? That's crazy."

Andrew smirked, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Because, Peter, she only wanted one thing: money. Clara never thought about anything else. When I made the offer, she didn't hesitate for a second. She signed the papers with a voracity that even surprised me." He laughed, but the sound was devoid of any humor. "For someone who pretended to love me so well, she was incredibly quick to sell me her own life."

Peter felt a tightness in his chest. "So... to her, I was never more than a piece on the board, a means to an end?"

Andrew shrugged, as if that were irrelevant. "Exactly. And that's what made her perfect for my plan. She had no scruples, she didn't question the terms, she didn't care about the body she would leave behind. She just wanted the money, and fast." He leaned closer again, this time with an almost sympathetic look. "In the end, Peter, she did it so easily that it made me want to laugh."

The silence hung heavy in the air as Peter tried to process everything he had just heard. Each word Andrew said seemed to sink into his mind, destroying any trace of the reality he thought he knew. His father, in Clara's body, kept his arms crossed, his expression calm and calculating, but then something changed. He looked down, noticing the natural posture and movements of the body he now inhabited.

Clara's hips swayed slightly, almost automatically, and her cleavage revealed the beginnings of a seductive curve as Andrew leaned in. A subtle smile formed on his lips as he noticed how Peter's eyes wavered, how he instinctively followed that movement with his gaze, even amidst all the confusion. The tension between them was no longer just psychological; there was something physical that Peter couldn't ignore, something that tied him to that body, regardless of who inhabited it.

Andrew raised his eyebrow, amused by the discovery. "Interesting, isn't it?" His voice was soft, but full of dangerous insinuation. "Even though you know who I am, her body still affects you. It's almost instinctive, isn't it? Maybe that's the greatest irony of all." 

Peter pulled back a little, feeling guilt burning his skin. "I... it's... not like that!" He tried to deny it, but Andrew's look, almost condescending, dismantled him. 

"You can even try to fool yourself, but her body still moves you, Peter. And that's exactly what makes it all the more fascinating." Andrew took another step forward, leaning in a little, so that his lips almost touched Peter's ear. "Deep down, you still desire your wife. And technically, I'm still her... for now." 

Peter stood still, the conflict between mind and body clear in his expression. Andrew, in turn, slowly stepped back, watching him with a mixture of triumph and amusement. "So..." Andrew whispered, crossing his arms again, this time with a calculated smile. "What are you going to do now, son?"