Bounded by the Ceo's deception

MIRABELLA’S POV

I eased myself upright, every shift sending sharp jolts of pain through my body, as if I had been roasted alive. My eyes fluttered open, taking in unfamiliar surroundings. Gone was the cramped familiarity of my small apartment. Instead, I found myself on a bed draped in fabric so fine and luxurious it made my skin prickle with unease.

Fragments of the previous night started flooding in. The plan had been simple—slip something into Scott Smith’s drink, the A-list actor everyone adored. Then, get a photo of us tangled together, caught in a compromising position. That photo would be my ticket, lifting me from an unknown actress to an overnight internet sensation.

But nothing had gone as planned. I had slipped the drug into Scott’s drink without a hitch, but somehow, I ended up drugged too. My memory was a haze—just one glass of wine at the director’s party, celebrating the premiere of Bloody Monday at the five-star hotel. Then, a wave of dizziness hit, crashing over me. I tried to steady myself, but it only deepened, my head spinning and my legs unsteady. Still, I pulled Scott, limp and unconscious, down the hall toward the hotel room.

The drug should have rendered Scott unconscious. Instead, it turned him into something unrecognizable, a monster. Losing my virginity in such a cruel, merciless way was never part of the plan.

Scott lay there, back turned, his breathing soft and even. Peaceful, like nothing had happened. My fingers tightened, the memory of last night’s torment still raw.

I reached for my phone on the table, the weight of it cold and solid in my hand. This was it—one picture to shatter his perfect image. I lined up the shot, but something stopped me.

My heart thudded in my chest. The face in front of me, unfamiliar. Not Scott Smith. Not the A-list celebrity I had drugged.

A stranger.

My hand shot to my mouth, smothering the scream clawing its way out. I slid from the bed, each movement deliberate, my eyes locked on the torn clothes sprawled across the floor. My fingers reached for them, trembling, but before I could grasp the fabric, a hand clamped onto me and dragged me back.

“Ah… Let go of me, let go!” The words ripped from my throat as I twisted and kicked, my body thrashing against the unyielding hold. My chest tightened, every frantic heartbeat drumming louder, but the grip only dug deeper, unrelenting.

I lifted my head and froze. Earlier, I hadn’t really looked at him, but now my eyes were drawn to his face, unable to look away.

His eyes, dark and intense, held a quiet arrogance, as if control was something he took for granted. His cheeks, almost icy to the touch, contrasted with the proud line of his nose, all set against a flawless, fair complexion. His skin, smooth and pale like jade, made me, usually so confident in my own skin, feel a sudden pang of envy.

“Who sent you here? How dare you drug me? Do you really think you can leave here unscathed after pulling something like this?” His voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. His eyes, dark with fury, locked onto mine, sending a wave of dread and confusion rushing through me.

“Please let go of me, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, forcing the words out. But the quiver in my voice gave me away.

“Tell me who sent you or you’ll have to bear the consequences,” he said, his voice cold and steady. The weight of his words hit me like a punch. Panic surged through me. In an instant, my hand shot out, grabbing the vase from the table beside the bed. I swung it, fast and desperate, aiming for his head.

He collapsed onto the bed, unconscious. I quickly gathered my things, but then I noticed my shirt, shredded and barely intact. If I stepped outside like this, everyone would think I had just escaped from a madhouse. Without hesitation, I grabbed his shirt, pulled it on, and hurried out of the hotel room.

I stepped out of the hotel, each breath of fresh air clearing my head a little more. I flagged down a taxi, gave the driver my address, and slumped into the seat. The city passed by in a haze, but my thoughts raced. What have I done? Did I hurt him? Is he okay, or worse? All I wanted was to climb the career ladder, but now jail feels like a real possibility. But this isn’t entirely my fault, one more person should also take responsibility for this problem too and when I get home, I will make sure she pays for what happened today.

“Finally, you’re home!” Ana, my best friend exclaimed as I stepped into the apartment. She was sprawled on the couch, a beauty mask covering her face, a plate of grapes beside her. She munched on one, her attention fixed on the TV, completely relaxed, as if the world outside didn’t exist.

The moment I saw her, my irritation flared into anger. Her wide smile and bright eyes hit me like a wave, and the more I looked, the harder it was to shake the annoyance that crawled under my skin.

“Tell me everything! Did you get the picture?” she asked, grinning like someone who had just claimed victory. Her excitement bubbled over, her eyes wide and bright with anticipation.

“I’ll tell you everything, dear, but first, let me give you a big hug for a job well done,” I said, smiling as I stepped closer. As I approached, I casually reached for the broomstick. The moment her gaze fixed on it, her grin faltered, and she knew instantly what was coming.

“Mira… Mirabella… what are you trying to do?” she stammered, her eyes wide with panic as she scrambled back, narrowly dodging my swing. The broomstick sliced through the air, missing her by inches, as she twisted and darted out of its path.

I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling over. “What drug did you give me?” My voice was tight with rage, my face contorted in anger. “You gave me an aphrodisiac instead of a sleeping pill!” I shouted, my words sharp and frantic. “Now I’m in serious trouble because of you… My life is ruined!” With a roar of helpless fury, I hurled the broom at her. She ducked just in time, and it thudded into the wall. Overcome with emotion, I crumpled to the floor, my body wracked with sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Mira. I swear, I only realized I gave you the wrong drug after you left,” Ana said, her voice trembling with guilt. “I tried calling you, but you hung up.” I remembered her call flashing on my screen, but I’d ignored it, not wanting to be interrupted while I worked.

“Please, tell me what happened,” Ana begged, her tone soft but urgent. I took a deep breath, my chest tight, and began to tell her everything. I walked her through the chaos, each moment vivid in my mind, from the confusion to the part where I had no idea how I ended up drugged.

“I’m so sorry, Mira,” she said, her arms pulling me into a tight hug. “You shouldn’t have gone through all of that because of me. Everything will be fine, don’t lose hope. We’ll find another way.” Her voice trembled, but the words seemed to drift past me, hollow, like the air around us.

I pulled back, my shoulders stiff, my face set. “No, thank you, Miss,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ll find a way myself.” I didn’t flinch as I looked her in the eyes. “You’re my manager, but your ideas just keep landing me in trouble. I’ll work hard, become a star on my own, and raise enough money for my mother’s treatment.”

Ana opened her mouth to say something, but the sharp ring of my phone interrupted her. I glanced at the screen—it was Adam, my boss from the bar where I also work.

“Hello, Mira,” he said as soon as I picked up. “There’s a birthday celebration at the bar tonight and I want you to perform a song.”

“I’ll be there, Adam. Thank you so much!” I said, my voice upbeat, before ending the call. Adam wasn’t just my boss—he was also my childhood friend and my stepsister’s boyfriend. I’d once had a crush on him, but that faded the day my sister told me about them. She knew how I felt and still went after him, almost as if to get back at me. I didn’t hold a grudge against her, though. The real tension had always been with my father.

When my mother got sick, my father left. He divorced her and walked away from both of us, marrying the woman he’d been seeing. She had already given him a child. My mother’s health grew worse, and soon, she was in the hospital. I was too young to live alone, so I went to stay with my father and his new family. It was a nightmare, and when I turned eighteen, I finally left. Since then, I’ve taken care of my mother by myself.

“I need to take a bath; I’ve got a shift at the bar tonight,” I said to Ana, heading for the bathroom. But then, a familiar face on the TV stopped me in my tracks.

My heart skipped a beat. I froze, staring at the screen.

“What happened, Mira? Why do you look so terrified?” Ana asked, her voice laced with confusion.

I pointed at the TV. “That’s him.” My voice barely rose above a whisper. “The man I drugged.”

“What?! You drugged Aiden Hayes?” Ana’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh my God, Mira, I think we need to leave the city.”