4: Mireya’s Shithead Boyfriend

MIREYA

I pulled open the doors of the restaurant, I spotted Phills sitting at a corner booth, looking exceptionally sharp in his designer blazer. I walked over and took my seat across from him.

"Mireya, baby! There you are," Phills said, his face lighting up with a brilliant, dazzling smile.

He reached across the table, taking my hand and kissing the knuckles with an act that was all sweet and lovely. "I was starting to worry. You looked so pale when I saw you on the street earlier. Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine, Philemon," I murmured, forcing a tight smile onto my face as I pulled my hand back under the guise of looking at the menu.

A waiter stepped up to our table, holding a notepad. He smiled warmly at me, but the exact second his eyes met Phills, the young man completely tensed up. A flash of panic crossed the waiter's features, his fingers gripping the notepad so hard the paper crumpled.

Phills smiled right back at him, a dark, knowing glint in his eyes. "Good evening, Marcus. Glad to see you're working tonight."

"G-good evening, Mr. Vancet," the waiter responded, his voice trembling slightly. He hurriedly poured our water, served us the appetizers, and left without making eye contact again.

We had a few discussions over the next thirty minutes, but my head was absolutely not there. Phills droned on and on about his father's banking mergers, but my thoughts were entirely stuck on Mr. Rothwell.

I could still feel the weight of his hands on my waist, and the sex. I tried to blink my head off him, desperately screaming at myself to snap out of it. I should be ashamed of myself for thinking about him while sitting across from my boyfriend, but the terrifying truth was, I wasn’t.

Here I was, forcing a fake feeling on Phills, nodding along to his voice while knowing deep down that I don't love him anymore. He’s a cheater, a manipulative liar, and a puppet my parents use to secure their bank accounts.

"Excuse me for a moment, beautiful," Phills said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I have to head to the restroom. Don't miss me too much."

"Take your time," I said evenly.

He left to pee, leaving me completely alone at the table. At first, I didn’t care. I welcomed the silence, using the opportunity to take a deep, stabilizing breath. But as the minutes ticked by, I realized he’d been long gone. It had been nearly twenty minutes. The restaurant wasn't even busy.

Sighing, I stood up from the booth and went to look for him, wandering down the hallway toward the back restrooms. As I approached the employee supply corridor, I heard a muffled, familiar groan, accompanied by the distinct sound of body against the wall.

I rounded the corner and froze.

Phills was pinned against the wall, actively screwing the male waiter, Marcus, who had served us earlier. Marcus’s hands were clawing at Phills’ jacket, both of them completely lost in the moment.

A dark, incredibly sharp laugh burst out of my chest. I couldn't stop it. The absurdity of the situation hit me all at once. Both of them snapped their heads toward me, their eyes widening in horror. Phills scrambled backward, frantically pulling his pants up as his face flushed in embarrassment.

"Mireya! Wait, it's not what it looks like—" Phills choked out, his voice cracking.

"You are so incredibly stupid," I said, looking at him with nothing but pure disgust. "We are completely done, Phills. I never want to see your pathetic face ever again."

I turned on my heel and marched back down the hallway toward the main exit. Phills followed suit, as he chased me down. He grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around violently just before I could hit the dining room.

"Oh, come on, Mireya! Don't play the saint with me." Phills hissed, his panic instantly morphing into an ugly, defensive rage. "You're acting like you're completely innocent. I saw the state of you on the street earlier. I am totally sure that Lust Drug Ysa talked about didn’t just wear off without you cheating and having sex with someone else last night."

"I told you to get lost for the last time, Phills!" I yelled, shoving his hands off my body with every ounce of strength I had. "Never, ever cross my path again. Go back to your waiter and stay out of my life!"

Phills stopped chasing me. Instead, a slow, incredibly smile spread across his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his smartphone

.

"You think you can just walk away from me?" he chuckled, tapping the screen a few times. "You think you have the upper hand here? Look at this."

He shoved the glowing screen directly in front of my face. My breath caught in my throat, my entire body locking up as the video began to play.

It was a video of me in the  room from last night. I was on the bed, my clothes disheveled, my face flushed with the fever of the substance Ysa had given me. In the frame, I was looking directly at the camera, tears streaming down my face as I begged Thomas the butler to fuck me.

In the audio, my voice was loud, clear, and frantic, begging the butler to have sex with me. But it was a complete, outright lie.

I had never begged Thomas. I had fought him off and hit him with a vase. The video was clearly, deliberately tampered with. Someone had meticulously edited the clips.

Phills laughed loudly, a mocking, triumphant sound as he watched the shock and horror drain the color from my face.

"You see that, Mireya?" Phills sneered. "You should never break up with me. In fact, you're never going to. Because if you even try to walk away, I will post this video on every single social media platform and send a direct copy to your father's business investors."

My fingers curled into tight fists, my body shaking with an unadulterated combination of fear and rage.

"You bastard... you know this is fake. You know what Ysa did to me!"

"It doesn't matter what I know," Phills said maliciously, tucking the phone back into his pocket with a satisfied smirk. "It only matters what the world sees. Your mother's fashion brand will be completely worthless by tomorrow morning if this leaks."

His fingers catching a strand of my hair and tucking it behind my ear.

"You're stuck with me, Mireya," he warned, his eyes locking onto mine with a terrifying finality. "You belong to me until I say otherwise."