3: Mireya’s Stepmother

MIREYA

Ysa stared at her father, her mouth parting in  shock. The aggressive, demanding posture she had held a second ago evaporated completely. Around us, the few maids and house staff who had gathered in the hallways shrank back into the shadows, terrified of the man standing at the base of the stairs.

"Dad?" Ysa stammered, her voice suddenly high and defensive. "I... I didn't know you were back from your business trip. Your assistant said you wouldn't be landing until tomorrow night."

"Clearly," he said, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "If I had known my absence would turn my home into a screaming match, I would have returned sooner. I have spoiled you entirely too much, Ysabel."

"Dad, that's not fair, Mireya was—"

"Silence," he commanded, a low, dangerous rumble that instantly cut her off. "You have become entirely too spoiled. Is this how I raised you to behave? Shouting at a staff? Thomas is older than you, yet you stand here hall treating him like a man with no respect."

"I was just trying to find out where—"

"I do not care what you were trying to do," Mr. Rothwell cut her shut. "Your behavior is unacceptable. Go to your room. Now."

I didn't wait to hear the rest of what was about to occur. My heart was still pounding, the terror of what we had done hours prior threatening to choke me. If Ysa looked at me too closely, if she saw the subtle tremor in my hands, she would piece it together. I needed to vanish.

I took my leave, slipping past the pillars toward the front doors. I didn't say goodbye. I didn't look back. But as my hand gripped the cold brass handle of the exit, I felt it.

His eyes.

I swear his piercing, possessive gaze traced every single millimeter of my spine until I finally broke through the door and hit the morning air. The door slammed shut behind me, and I collapsed against the stone railing, exhaling a ragged, trembling breath I never even knew I was holding.

The ride back to my family's estate was a blur of passing trees and a racing mind. I boarded a local taxi, as I stared out the window, the image of Mr. Rothwell's dark eyes burned into the back of my eyelids. He had expected me. The realization made my stomach twist into a knot.

The moment the taxi pulled up to our driveway, the illusion of safety shattered. I unlocked the front door, stepping in, hoping to slip upstairs unnoticed. I didn't even make it to the first step.

"Where the hell have you been?"

My stepmother, Evelyn, stormed out of the living room, her face contorted in a mask anger. Before I could even open my mouth to construct a lie, she slapped me hard.

Crack.

The force of her palm hitting my cheek was so hard it sent my head snapping to the side. A sharp, burning sting flared across my skin, tears instantly pricking my eyes. I stumbled back, gripping the banister to keep my balance.

"Look at you!!! You look like a street girl!" Evelyn hissed, her fingers digging painfully into my shoulder as she shook me. "Where did you spend the night? Speak!!!"

"I was out," I choked out, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry. "I stayed at a friend's."

"Don't lie to me, you ungrateful brat!" she shrieked. "I called your boyfriend. Phills said you were not with him. He said you vanished from the party last night and didn't answer a single one of his text messages."

"I was with Ysa," I said through my teeth, the irony tasting like ash on my tongue. "We were at the Rothwell estate."

"If you were with that stupid girl, I will skin you alive!" Evelyn pointed a finger directly at my face. "How many times have I warned you to stay away from Ysa? She is not your friend, Mireya! She is a snake who will do anything to seduce your boyfriend and take him away."

I stared at her, a bitter, hollow laugh threatening to bubble up. Like I care, I thought to myself. If Ysa wanted that cheating, arrogant bastard Phills, she could gladly have him. She could have the fake smiles, the controlling phone calls, and the suffocating weight of his ego.

"I'm going to my room," I muttered, ripping my arm out of her grip.

I ran up the stairs, ignoring her screaming my name, and slammed my bedroom door shut, turning the lock with a loud click. I threw myself onto the bed, burying my face in the pillows. But the peace didn't last. An aggressive knocking rattled the wood of my door seconds later.

"You listen to me, Mireya!" Evelyn shouted through the door, her voice venomous. "You clean yourself up right now. Prepare yourself and go meet Phills at his family's restaurant by five. If you ruin this relationship, I swear to God I will make you pay."

*

*

*

The rest of the day went by in a blur. I lay in the darkness of my room, my mind entirely consumed by the memory of Mr. Rothwell's touch, his voice, and the dangerous warning he had whispered in my ear. I was trapped between two nightmares. I eventually drifted into a restless sleep, plagued by images of Ysa's fury and her father's dominant embrace.

When I finally woke up, the clock on my nightstand read 4:00 in the evening.

Panic surged through me. I checked my phone, the screen lighting up with a barrage of notifications. There were fifteen missed calls from Phills, accompanied by a final text message that read: Where the fuck are you? You better have a good excuse for ignoring me.

I immediately leaped out of bed, running into the bathroom to bathe and prepare. My movements were frantic, driven entirely by survival. I hated Phills. I despised my stepmother. But the reason why I am listening to my stepmother, the reason I tolerate the slaps, the screaming, and the forced relationship, is because she holds the ultimate leverage over my life.

Evelyn had threatened me. Specifically, she threatened to liquidate and destroy my late mother's shares of our family company.

When my mother was alive, she didn't just inherit wealth—she built it. She owned a massive, globally recognized luxury empire called Aura & Veil Luxury. It was a high-end fashion brand that defined elegance, a name that was currently keeping my father's failing businesses afloat.

When she passed, she left her controlling shares to me, but until I turned twenty-five or married a pre-approved suitor, my father and stepmother retained administrative control over the trust.

Evelyn had made it entirely clear: if I stepped out of line, if I broke things off with Phills and ruined the impending merger between his family's bank and our estate, she would use a legal loophole to sell off Aura & Veil Luxury piece by piece to our fiercest competitors.

She would erase my mother's life's work just to punish me. That fashion brand was the only tangible piece of my mother I had left in this world. It was her blood, her sweat, and her memory.

I stood in front of the mirror, drawing a layer of red lipstick across my lips, masking the bruise forming on my cheek from Evelyn's slap. 

I smoothed down the fabric of my designer dress, checking my phone one last time. It was 4:30 PM. The taxi was waiting downstairs to take me to the slaughter. I had to smile. I had to look beautiful. I had to play the perfect, submissive girlfriend to a man I loathed, all while carrying the explosive secret that I had spent the previous night in the bed of the most powerful billionaire in the city.

I grabbed my clutch, taking a deep, stabilizing breath as I opened my bedroom door to face the world. My stepmother stood at the end of the hallway, watching me with a satisfied smirk as I walked past her toward the stairs.

It didn't matter how much my skin crawled at the thought of Phills touching me. The stakes were too high for personal feelings. My choices were stripped away, leaving me with a singular, brutal path forward.

Whether I love Phills or not… I must marry him to secure my mother's legacy.