My Junk Boyfriend, You won't get away with it!

I froze in front of the private dining suite at Le Meridien, my fingers trembling around the Ferrari keys I’d planned to give Nathaniel as a surprise. Seven years of love, trust, and shared dreams suddenly felt like fragile glass splintering under my feet.

“Seriously, man, how long are you planning to keep Eliza hanging?”

The voice beyond the door was low and sharp.

My breath caught at the sound of my name. The metal keys bit into my palm, anchoring me in place.

“Nathaniel, come on. Marissa’s been asking about you ever since she got back from Paris,” another man said, followed by the clinking of glasses and a round of laughter.

“Wait, you mean you’ve been dating Adrian’s sister this whole time?” someone else added with a snicker. “Does he even realize his best friend’s been sleeping with his runaway sibling?”

The mention of my brother’s name hit me like a blow. Adrian. My brother Adrian—whom Nathaniel had always claimed he’d met only by chance.

“Imagine Adrian’s reaction when he learns the truth,” another voice teased.

“He won’t,” Nathaniel replied, his tone cool and familiar. “Eliza was just… temporary. A substitute while Marissa was away.”

“Seven years sounds like a long temporary fix,” someone mocked, followed by a whistle.

“She made it easy,” Nathaniel said, a cruel amusement curling through his words. “The poor thing was starved for affection after all that drama with her family. I just had to play the patient, loyal boyfriend. She bought every word—about her brother, about our supposed honesty, about marriage.”

The keys slipped from my trembling hand, striking the marble floor with a sharp, echoing clatter.

The voices inside went still.

“Did you hear that?”

I didn’t wait. My body moved before my mind could catch up. I turned and ran—leaving behind the keys, the car I’d saved for years to buy, the man I thought loved me, and the future built entirely on lies.

…

By the time I reached home, tears had ruined my mascara, black streaks painting my cheeks as I collapsed face‑down on the bed. The silence in my room mirrored the hollow ache in my chest. Every shared moment, every whispered promise replayed like a cruel movie I couldn’t turn off.

The sound of the front door unlocking snapped me upright. I wiped my face on my sleeve, forcing calm as his footsteps drew near.

“Eliza?” Nathaniel’s voice carried that same warmth that had once melted me. The bedroom light came on. “You won’t believe the night I just had.”

I turned on my side, pretending to look relaxed. “Oh? How was dinner?”

He smiled as he loosened his tie. “Really great catching up. Funny thing though—security found a set of Ferrari keys outside the private room. Can you imagine someone dropping those?”

I swallowed hard. “That’s… odd.”

“Anyway,” he went on, sitting beside me, “tomorrow night’s all set. My old school friend Marissa’s throwing a little party—she just got back from Paris.”

The name scorched my throat. “Marissa? The one you told me about before?”

“Yeah, just an old classmate.” He gave an easy shrug, as though the word lie had never existed in his vocabulary. “You’ll come, right?”

I looked straight into his eyes, hoping to see guilt, regret—anything real. But all I saw was that charming, unshakable smile. The same one that once convinced me he was different from everyone else.

“Of course,” I whispered, forcing a nod. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Perfect,” he murmured, brushing his lips against my forehead. “Sleep well, babe.”

The bed dipped as he lay beside me, his breathing soon evening out. I stared at the ceiling until tears slid silently into my hair.

…

The next evening, Nathaniel guided me into Marissa’s penthouse, his hand resting on the small of my back. His touch burned through the fabric of my black dress—a brand of possession dressed up as affection.

“Try the champagne, Eliza,” he said cheerfully, pressing a glass into my hand and kissing my temple for show. Laughter filled the room as crystal flutes clinked.

Across the crowd stood Marissa, radiant in a scarlet gown that hugged every curve. Her gaze was locked on Nathaniel like a claim she’d never released.

…

I slipped away from the noise, desperate for air. The hallway leading to the restroom stretched empty—until a mocking voice followed.

“Well, if it isn’t the runaway sister.”

Marissa’s words were smooth, dangerous. She leaned lazily against the wall, the champagne glass dangling between her fingers.

“That must be nice,” she went on, eyes gleaming. “Living your best life while your brother was left to pick up the pieces. Ever think how selfish that makes you?”

I froze. She knew about Adrian. About the things I’d only ever confessed to Nathaniel—those late‑night talks when I’d bared my soul, believing he understood. He’d told her everything.

“What’s wrong, cat got your tongue?” Marissa stepped closer, her perfume thick and suffocating. “You really thought Nathaniel would forget me? We go way back. That kind of connection doesn’t fade just because a lonely girl plays house with him for a few years.”

I pressed my back to the wall, fighting the sting in my eyes.

“Here’s the truth, sweetheart,” she said, draining her glass. “Tonight, I’m taking him back. He’s always been mine—you just kept his side of the bed warm while I was in Paris.”

My breath came in shallow bursts as she leaned closer, her red‑painted lips twisting into a smirk.

“Want to know something fun?” she whispered, running a manicured finger down my arm. “Two days ago—Tuesday, right?—while you were at that photography workshop…”

A cold shiver climbed my spine. Tuesday.

“He came over first,” she said softly. “But then he decided he wanted something more exciting. Said he’d rather do it in your bed.”

I stared at her, horror rising like bile.

“Those silk sheets you adore?” Her voice dipped to a purr. “We made quite the mess.”

My knees nearly gave out. I gripped the wall, gasping for air.

She laughed, tossing her hair. “He said you were too… plain. Too safe. But with me? He said I bring out the animal in him.”

The memory of Tuesday night crashed over me—those same sheets, his familiar kiss, the warmth I’d mistaken for love.

Marissa leaned in until her breath brushed my ear. “He changed those sheets so fast afterward,” she murmured. “Didn’t want his sweet, innocent Eliza finding out. The fear of being caught made it even better.”

Her hand clamped around my wrist, her nails biting into my skin.

“And the best part?” she whispered, her smile wicked. “He told me you’d never have the courage to leave.”