Chapter 38: My Wrong. My Setup.
1950 Words
Chapter 38:
STELLA
Shit!
I hate Dylan. I scribbled his name down on my draft paper but God, I didn't hold back. I carved into the paper aggressively while I couldn't help but faintly imagine it was his heart.
I didn't care if I damaged the fabric beneath it.
I grabbed my phone and texted him.
I knew it was the last thing to have done but no matter how hard I thought, it was the only option I had—face the attacker.
“Meet me there by seven. "I hit the ‘Send’ button on my phone, letting out a sharp breath as I headed outside the academy.
He texted back, agreeing to be there, even though he was curious to know why.
Rhys was here to pick me up at the academy for a minute, my chest tightened.
Someone in our connection had changed—it wasn't visible enough but I could tell.
We barely saw each other at home, and the only time we got to see and talk was whenever he came to pick me up at the academy.
“Rhys," I said his name awkwardly, settling in the car.
“You shouldn't have come, Rhys. I'm sure you—"
“Shh," he husked, pinning his index against his lips. “You know I wouldn't let someone else take you home. I'd do it all by myself” He smiled.
God. My mind couldn't stray away from that question—What if?
What if he was going through all of this because of me?
What if Dylan was doing this because he knew I was with him?
I hadn't asked him about how he settled the company stock issue because I'd seen it on the news, two weeks ago.
Immediately, Rhys dropped me off at the guesthouse. He drove out again, but with a warning. “Stay indoors, Blaze," He had said it like he was begging, and then brushed my fingers as I was leaving his car.
I still had enough time to get dressed for my meeting with Dylan.
It was 6 PM.
I dashed into the house, picking out the best of my clothes.
My guts dared to dress like the sexy b***h Dylan hated to see.
I slid into a curve-hugging mini dress that shimmered under the club’s lights—black as midnight, just enough cut to tease without giving too much away.
Strappy heels made my legs look endless, and my hair fell in loose waves.
Smoky eyes. Cherry-red lips.
A thin choker glinted at my throat.
I knew Dylan wouldn’t be able to look away.
I'd ordered a ride, and the moment I stepped outside the house, the cabman arrived.
I was meeting Dylan at a club… alone but admittedly, I wasn't scared of him.
The ride continued on the road that kept stretching as the car moved, until the ride finally ended.
I stood outside the club, taking a deep sigh.
I didn't text him yet, so I walked in, the loud music playing, and the colored lights almost dimmed my vision.
It'd been a while since the chaos I used to once love—but my lifestyle had changed.
“Hey, hottie." Someone walked up to me, reeking of alcohol, but irritation pumped through my chest.
Fuck. I did a little bit of lip syncing to my favorite song that was playing loud as I found my way to the VIP section.
It was quieter there. More like a regular bar—filled with the rich—where they were rocking each other, kissing and doing all sorts of s**t.
That bastard came.
There he was, sitting alone, pouring down a shot of Tequila.
He was opposite the wall, and I could recognize him from his nape.
A smirk appeared on my lips as I approached him.
“You didn't call me..” He turned to me with a smile, the red light illuminating a small scar on his forehead.
He stretched his hand towards the half-couch in front of him.
I didn't sit. I wasn't here for the fun.
"I fixed the meeting here…" I slid the letter out of my purse. Two of them.
“You look beautiful tonight, though," He admitted, but I ignored his comment.
"Were this from you?” I held the envelopes between my index and middle fingers.
I was heading straight to business, no hitting around.
“Yes. You read them?"
Bullshit! Why did his face light up like he wasn't expecting me to read them??
“Then, you went ahead to throw tantrums with his major stakeholders?" A scoff escaped my lips even as he hadn't answered.
"No. What—”
If there was anything I hated more than Dylan, it was definitely pretense.
I leaned in towards him but almost drew back when the awful scent of the Tequila he'd taken, shot at my senses.
“Dylan…why are you after him?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. I wished I could just smash his head into the glass table in front of him.
"You....you think I did that?” He stammered.
I was sure everything leaving his lips was definitely lies.
"You know why I came?" I took the seat opposite him.
"How long have you been here?” My pitch hit higher with my annoyance. I wasn't swaying away from the main discussion but I couldn't control the urge to ask.
“Twenty minutes after you texted," He wasn't drunk, but his eyelids were already shutting.
Now that was a valid reason why he reeked of alcohol—he probably spent that whole evening drinking.
“I came because I need you to Stay. The. f**k. Away. From. "I whispered in his ear, making sure he could feel the force in every word I said.
I wasn't kidding at all.
“Away from who?" He asked again and I swear it, I still don't know I had that amount of self-control. I would have hit his face hard.
I got up, scrolled down on my phone’s browser. “I know he's resolved it. Don't play games with his company, Dylan.” I stretched the screen in his face.
I didn't get a response at first. His face went blank. A pause. Then a scoff.
“How can you even accuse me of that?" His eyes cleared. He wasn't drunk. His voice shot through me like a wave on the ocean.
"Dylan, you don't want to see the beast in me. I mean it" A smile spread to the corner of my lips, as I stood unmoved even as the distance between us closed.
‘It’—He looked horribly ugly. I hated myself for ever imagining a life with it.
“Dylan…”
"What? What Stella?” His expression became bitter. He was such a little liar who never had the balls, except when his big boy was around.
"I know you can't tell me you're responsible, and I know why.” I blew out the air in my lungs, tucking the envelope back in my purse.
"But stay away from Rhys.” His eyes were fixed on mine, like he was going to fight back.
I turned to leave but he held me by my wrist.
“Is that all you're going to say?"
God. I didn't want to spit on a human’s face. I'd promised myself I would never do it again, since high school.
"What else am I supposed to say?" I yanked my wrist out of his hand but his grip tightened.
Before I knew, he was moving towards me—the distance closing and becoming even more inappropriate, so I kept moving backwards.
“Why are you so concerned with Rhys?” His voice deepened and laced with bitterness, like a predator's.
I looked away, the moment my back hit the wall behind me and he raised my hands above my head.
God. The last thing I would contemplate was murder.
"You're willing to walk into the most dangerous club in the town for this guy…”
I rolled my eyes, returning my eyes to his.
“Tell me, Stella." He leaned closer, till I could feel his irritating breath on my ear. “Why are you fighting so much for my brother?"
He said it with so much pride that it irritated my stomach.
He kept my hand pinned above my head as it brought him some kind of joy to watch me look so weak.
How did I not throw up on him??
This was getting too much. A surge of anger rushed through me, tripping my hate for him.
“Because he's one thousand and one times better than you'll ever be"
He was too relaxed for my liking so I gave him a little gift.
I launched a dangerous kick in between his legs—his balls. He folded into two, raw groans tearing from his throat.
I bent closer to him on the ground, “Remember when you did this?" I made sure his face was close enough. Then I spat on him.
"Mess with him and I swear, you'll know no peace”
I walked away, leaving him to groan like the animal he was.
Mission accomplished.
I stood outside the club, waiting for my ride.
The moment the ride arrived, my phone rang.
Rhys.
I ignored the call, as I got into the cab.
It felt good to be the villain. It soothed every part of me.
That evening felt good but little did I know…. I shouldn't have gone that night, either.
Fuck.
I walked into the guesthouse but my phone had turned off inside the car.
I turned it back on, heading into my room.
It was 8:26 PM.
I hated that the crazy smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and hard drugs followed me.
I used to be in that life but not anymore.
Rhys was calling again but I waited until I freshened up before I could talk to him.
I called back, but he didn't pick up, so I texted him instead.
He'd already sent messages before I left the bathroom, so I decided to just respond to them.
“Hey, Rhys." I texted, drying my hair with the blow-dryer.
"Where are you?” He texted like he hadn't asked thrice
God. I hated that I had to lie. How was I supposed to tell him I was with Dy—
“Indoors. It's boring here" I texted back, a smile forming.
Rhys was peace. As much as it didn't feel right, I hated that I had to..
"Are you sure?”
My heart thudded like a fire alarm just rang around.
"Is something wrong? I have been in since you dropped me” I texted back.
Another text from Dylan but I didn't spare it a second glance before ignoring it.
“Check this"
He sent me a link and I clicked on it.
I waited for it to load, a feeling of unease rushing through me.
Holy Jesus!
It was a video of me. In the club. Pinned against the wall. By Dylan.
Thousands of views and comments under it.
My heart slammed against my ribs as fingers trembled.
Tears gathered in my eyes. No. It couldn't be.
The world couldn't see me—with Dylan.
Not after everything that had happened.
“Rhys…I can explain. I swear it!” Why did I feel a certain weight of guilt against my chest? Tears broke from my eyes.
No!
He didn't text back. There were no three dots from his end.
“Rhys…are you there?”
"It's not what you think.”
"I swear, you have to believe me”
- Writer
