The Mistress - 7. Chapter 7: The confrontation.

Mateo sat huddled on the floor of his dimly lit apartment, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs, his body racked with sobs. Tears streamed down his face, leaving streaks of despair on his cheeks. His once vibrant eyes were now bloodshot and swollen from crying, reflecting the torment within his soul. Each heartbeat felt like a drum echoing in his chest, a painful reminder of the betrayal that had shattered his world.

He couldn't fathom how everything had unraveled so disastrously. Henry, the man he had been entangled with as a mistress, and Mark, his new found love, were brothers. The revelation had blindsided Mateo, leaving him reeling with disbelief and anguish. How could he not have known? The thought gnawed at him like a relentless beast, tormenting him with its claws of guilt.

As Mateo sat lost in his tumultuous thoughts, a sudden pounding on the door shattered the fragile silence of his solitude. His heart leaped in his chest, a primal instinct warning him of impending danger. With each successive knock, the dread within him intensified, the sound echoing in his ears like a death knell.

The relentless pounding continued, accompanied by Henry's voice calling out his name with increasing urgency. Mateo knew he couldn't hide forever; he had to confront the demons that haunted him. Steeling himself, he rose from the floor, his trembling hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob.

As he swung the door open, he braced himself for the confrontation, but what he saw took his breath away. It wasn't Henry standing on the threshold, but Mark, his expression twisted with anger and hurt. Mateo's heart sank like a stone as he met Mark's furious gaze, his own guilt weighing heavily upon him.

“What is this I see?” Mark snarled, clenching his fists. “Tears? What are those tears for?”

Trembling, Mateo reached out towards Mark, his voice trembling with desperation.

“Mark, please, just listen to me…”

“What do you have to explain, Mateo?” Mark's voice was laced with bitterness, his words dripping with disdain. “The fact that you've been sleeping with a married man? Or the fact that you've been playing me for a fool all this time?”

Mateo's mouth opened and closed soundlessly, his mind a whirlwind of emotions too tumultuous to comprehend. He wanted desperately to make Mark understand, to beg for forgiveness and redemption, but the words eluded him like ghosts dancing just out of reach.

He felt like a cornered animal, trapped by his own deceit, with no way out. As Mark advanced towards him, anger radiating from every pore, Mateo took a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. But there was nowhere left to run, no escape from the consequences of his actions. All Mateo could do was stand there, his tears mingling with the echoes of his shattered dreams.

“Look at you,” he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. “You can't even find the courage to speak because you know deep down that you've been caught—a cheap man caught in the act.”

Mark surveyed the modest surroundings of Mateo's apartment, his disappointment simmering beneath the surface, mingling with the searing pain of betrayal.

“Is this what my brother bought for you?” Mark's words cut through the air like a whip, his tone dripping with disdain. The implication struck Mateo like a physical blow, leaving him speechless and paralyzed with shame.

Before Mateo could muster a response, Mark's voice rose to a crescendo of fury.

“Is this what you got for cheaply opening your legs for a married man?”

Mateo flinched at the intensity of Mark's anger, his heart racing with fear at the sight of the man he loved consumed by such rage.

“I thought I'd found someone decent,” Mark's voice was laced with sorrow, his disappointment palpable. “Someone who was worthy of chasing. But all I found was a shameless whore, someone I could have bought with nothing more than cheap change.”

Mateo's heart shattered into a million pieces at Mark's words, the weight of his remorse crushing him beneath its relentless weight. He wanted desperately to explain, to beg for forgiveness and understanding. But all he could do was sob uncontrollably, the tears streaming down his face in silent agony.

“I wanted to tell you,” Mateo choked out between sobs, his voice barely audible amidst the chaos of his emotions. “But I was scared. I was so scared of what you might say to me after finding out the truth.”

“And what did you think?” Mark yelled. “Which man in his right frame of mind would wanna settle for that? A whore?”

Mateo's heart sank as Mark's words sliced through him like a knife, leaving him raw and exposed. He felt the weight of Mark's judgment bearing down on him, crushing him beneath its oppressive force.

“Mark, please...” Mateo's voice trembled with desperation. “You're judging me too harshly. You're not listening to me. You’ve been telling me that you love me and because of that love, listen to what I have to say. Just give me a chance to explain.”

But Mark's anger only intensified, as he gripped Mateo’s arm, his grip tightening painfully as he loomed over him like a predator ready to strike. Mateo winced in pain, his eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“Love?” he scoffed, his voice dripping with scorn. “What love are you talking about, Mateo? What we had was never love. It was nothing more than a transaction from the very beginning.”

Mateo's heart shattered into a million pieces at Mark's words, the truth of them cutting him to the core. He had allowed himself to believe in the possibility of a future with Mark, but now it seemed like nothing more than a cruel illusion.

Tears welled up in Mateo's eyes once more, blurring his vision as he struggled to find the right words to defend himself.

“No, Mark, you're wrong,” he insisted, his voice cracking with emotion. “I-I never saw you as just someone to have fun with. I love you, with all my heart.”

But Mark's grip only tightened further, his fingers digging into Mateo's flesh with painful intensity. His breath came in ragged gasps, like a wounded animal preparing to strike.

“You're deluding yourself, Mateo,” he spat. “You were never meant to be anything more than a passing amusement—a plaything to be discarded when the novelty wore off.”

“Stop it, Mark,” Mateo pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, just stop."

But Mark's voice rose to a crescendo of rage, his words a barrage of accusations that pierced Mateo's soul like daggers. “Do you love the taste of married men, Mateo? Do they satisfy you better than I ever did?

Does Henry fuck you so rough?” Mark sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Does he speak to you like the whore you are?”

“Stop it, Mark,” he pleaded once more, his voice shaking with emotion. “Please, just stop.”

But Mark only laughed, the sound harsh and bitter in the stifling silence of the room.

“Why does it bother you so much?” he demanded. “You're nothing but a whore, and you deserve to be treated like one.”

In a fit of blind rage, Mateo's hand lashed out, the force of his blow sending Mark stumbling backwards in shock. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing, the tension between them palpable and suffocating.

“How dare you lay your filthy hands on me,” Mark seethed, his voice a low growl of fury. “You wanna be a whore, fine. I'll show you how I treat whores.”

Before Mateo could react, Mark's powerful grip closed around him like a vice, pulling him closer with a force that left him gasping for breath. Mateo struggled against Mark's hold, his cries of protest drowned out by the pounding of his own heart.

But Mark's strength was overwhelming, his fingers like steel as they tore at Mateo's shirt, ripping the fabric apart with a savage brutality that left Mateo reeling. He cried out in shock and disbelief, his mind reeling with the realization of what was happening.

“Stop, Mark, please,” Mateo begged, his voice hoarse with desperation. “Please, I'm begging you, stop.”

But Mark's only response was a cruel laugh, the sound echoing in Mateo's ears like a death knell. His pleas fell on deaf ears as Mark's hands continued their assault, tearing away Mateo's clothes with a merciless efficiency that left him feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Tears streamed down Mateo's face as he fought against Mark's relentless onslaught, his body trembling with a mixture of fear and humiliation. But try as he might, he was no match for Mark's strength, his struggles futile against the overwhelming force of his anger.

In a desperate bid for freedom, Mateo summoned all his strength and lashed out, his fists striking Mark's chest with all the force he could muster. But Mark only responded with a guttural snarl, his grip tightening around Mateo like a vise.

With a sudden, violent shove, Mark sent Mateo crashing to the floor with a sickening thud, the impact driving the breath from his lungs. Mateo lay there, dazed and disoriented, the world spinning around him in a haze of pain and fear.

Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, Mark was upon him once more, pinning him to the ground with a brutal force that left Mateo gasping for air. His hands were trapped beneath Mark's weight, rendering him helpless.

Mateo cried out in desperation, his voice raw with anguish as he begged Mark to stop. But the man showed no mercy, his rage consuming him like a wildfire out of control.

But just as Mateo felt himself on the brink of surrender, a sudden force ripped Mark away from him, sending him crashing to the ground with a resounding thud. Mateo's breath caught in his throat as he watched in shock, his mind struggling to comprehend what was happening.

As Mark lay sprawled on the floor, dazed and disoriented, Mateo's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of Henry standing before him. His heart pounded with a mixture of relief and fear, uncertainty clouding his thoughts as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Henry asked, wondering what Mark was doing there. “How did you even find yourself here?”

Mark's shock quickly turned to fury as he scrambled to his feet, his laughter ringing out like a bitter echo in the tense silence.

What are you doing here, Henry?" Mark spat, his voice dripping with contempt. “Defending your little whore of a mistress?”

Henry's expression darkened at Mark's words, his jaw tightening with barely suppressed anger. “Watch your tongue, Mark,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Turning his attention to Mateo, who stood trembling beside him, Henry reached out a hand to help him up, his touch gentle and reassuring. “Are you alright, Mateo?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Before Mateo could respond, Mark's laughter cut through the air like a knife. “I can't believe what I'm seeing,” he sneered. “My own brother, behaving like a shameless fool, comforting his whore.”

Henry shook his head and glanced at Mateo, his gaze softening as he wrapped his jacket around his trembling form, a silent gesture of comfort amidst the chaos.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, his voice gentle with concern.

Mateo met Henry's gaze with haunted eyes, his lips trembling as he struggled to find the words to express the turmoil raging within him. But before he could respond, Mark's voice pierced the air like a dagger, his words dripping with venom and accusation.

“Your father would be ashamed of you, Henry,” He spat, his voice filled with righteous indignation. “Leaving your beautiful wife and treating her the way you do for someone like him.”

Henry's jaw clenched at the mention of his father, his fists clenched at his sides in a silent display of restraint. “You of all people shouldn't judge me, Mark,” he retorted, his voice laced with bitterness. “You should try to understand.”

Mark's laughter echoed in the room like a mocking echo, his eyes filled with scorn. “Understand what?” he scoffed. “The fact that you're an adulterer? Or the fact that your mistress is nothing but a shameless man?”

Henry shook his head, his heart heavy with disappointment. “What I'm doing is wrong, I know that,” he admitted. “But what you’re doing is also wrong. Following Mateo here and trying to hurt him and all for what… because she told you to? You can do better than that.”

But Mark's anger only seemed to grow, his voice rising to a crescendo of fury. “Is that what you think is happening, Henry?” he taunted. “That you're the only one being betrayed? Think again.”

Henry's blood ran cold at Mark's words, a chill creeping up his spine as the truth of his brother's accusations dawned on him. Could it be true? Could Mateo have been unfaithful to him as well?

Henry's heart shattered into a million pieces as he stared into Mateo's tear-filled eyes, the weight of Mark's accusations bearing down on him like a crushing burden. He had never seen Henry look so broken, so vulnerable, and it tore at his soul in ways he couldn't begin to describe.

Barely able to find his voice amidst the tumult of his thoughts, Henry's words were a mere whisper as he turned to Mateo, his heart heavy with dread.

“Is it true?” he asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

“Why ask Mateo when you can just ask me?” Mark sneered. “After all, I've been screwing your mistress too.”

Henry's world spun in a dizzying whirlwind of disbelief as Mark's words sank in, each one like a dagger plunging into his already wounded heart. He felt weak, his legs threatening to give out beneath him as his face turned pale with shock.

He looked at Mateo, his eyes pleading for the truth, but all he found was a gaze filled with shame and despair. Mateo shook his head in denial, tears streaming down his face in silent agony.

“I know every part of him, Henry. How he moans in bed, how his lips taste, what he likes done to him.”

In that moment, Mateo had never felt so scared, so utterly alone. A tear escaped Henry’s eye, betraying the storm of emotions raging within him, but he quickly brushed it away with a trembling hand, his jaw clenched in fury.

“Your bitch likes it rough, doesn't he?” Mark taunted. “Looks like your cock wasn't big enough for him, so he went looking for some real dick.”

Henry's fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as the rage within him boiled over. With a primal roar, he lashed out, his fist connecting with Mark's face with a sickening thud. Mark staggered backwards, his body hitting the floor with a resounding crash.

Mateo could only watch in frozen horror as the scene unfolded before him, his heart heavy with despair at the violence and betrayal consuming the room. He felt powerless, trapped in a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape.

But instead of retaliating with anger, Mark laughed, blood staining his lips as he tasted the metallic tang of his own blood.

“It hurts, doesn't it?” he jeered, his eyes glittering with manic glee. “Too weak to face the truth that your mistress is nothing but a dick-hunting whore.”

Henry's hands shook with fury as he gripped Mark by the collar of his shirt, his voice trembling with righteous indignation. “Get out before I do something I'll regret.”

A wicked grin twisted across Mark's lips as he shrugged off Henry's grasp, his laughter echoing off the walls like a haunting refrain.

“Fine, I'll go,” he taunted, his eyes boring into Mateo with a chilling intensity. “But don't worry, Mateo. If you ever miss my dick, you know where to find me.”

And with that parting shot, Mark turned on his heel and sauntered out of the room, his laughter fading into the distance like a sinister echo of the madness that had just unfolded.

Henry’s gaze fixed on Mateo and the boy felt his heart jump in his throat. He opened his mouth and felt a huge lump in his throat. He didn’t know hat to say to the man or if he was even gonna listen to him. But then again, what did he have to say? He had betrayed him.

“Henry...” Mateo managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper. But Henry raised a hand, silencing him with a gesture.

“What haven't I given you, Mateo?” Henry's voice cracked with emotion, his eyes pleading for answers. “Was it sex? Money? What more could you possibly want? What was it that drove you to betray me like this?”

Mateo shook his head, unable to meet Henry's gaze as the weight of his own guilt threatened to crush him. “I'm sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Sorry?” Henry exploded, the sound of his foot stomping on the floor echoing through the room. “You've betrayed me, Mateo. I gave you everything, and this is how you repay me? By sleeping with my own brother?”

Mateo's tears flowed freely as he sank to his knees, his entire body trembling with the weight of his remorse. “I didn't mean for any of this to happen,” he sobbed, his voice choked with tears.

But Henry's expression remained cold and unforgiving as he towered over Mateo, his disappointment palpable in the air between them.

“I'm so disappointed in you, Mateo,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with regret. “Just when I thought I'd give you the world, you go and betray me like this.”

With those final words, Henry turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Mateo alone in the suffocating silence of his own remorse. And as Mateo collapsed to the ground, his sobs echoing off the walls like a haunting lament, he wished more than anything that he could turn back time and undo the disaster he had wrought upon their lives. But now, all he could do was drown in the sea of his own regrets, lost in a whirlwind of pain and despair.

***

Henry's heart felt like lead as he stepped through the front door of his home, shoulders slumped, defeated. The weight of betrayal bore down on him like a crushing wave, threatening to drown him in despair. His footsteps echoed hollowly in the empty foyer, each one a painful reminder of the shattered pieces of his life.

As he closed the door behind him, the sound of laughter cut through the silence like a knife. Henry's gaze lifted, drawn inexorably towards the staircase where his wife stood, a mocking smile playing on her lips. She held a glass of wine in one hand, the other resting elegantly on the banister as she watched him with cruel amusement.

“Why do you look so sad, dear husband?” Emma taunted, her laughter ringing out like a discordant melody. “Oh,” she gasped in mock astonishment, “Is it because you found out that your brother has been fucking your toy boy too? What a turn of events.”

Henry's stomach churned at her words, the bile of betrayal rising in his throat. He clenched his fists, fighting to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to consume him.

Without a word, Henry turned to ascend the staircase, his footsteps heavy with resignation. But before he could take another step, his wife's hand shot out, gripping his arm with a forceful anger that startled him.

“Where do you think you're going?” she demanded, her voice low. “Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Leaving your wife at home while you gallivant with another man? What kind of man are you?”

“You have no right to judge me,” he seethed, his voice a low growl of frustration. “You, who have betrayed me in the cruelest of ways, dare to lecture me on shame?”

“Do not pin this down on me.” Emma snapped, breathing harshly. “I agree that I have cheated but at least, I didn’t do it with my fellow woman, Henry. But you… look at you, you’re not even ashamed to admit it. What would your father say if he were alive?”

“Don’t bring my father into this.” He warned, pointing angrily at her.

“Why?” She raised an eyebrow. “Is it because he tried to shape you into a man and failed? I am sure that he must be turning in his grave right now.”

“Let go of me, Emma," Henry commanded, his voice edged with a steely resolve. "I have no desire to engage in your twisted games. If you know what’s good for you, don’t talk to me right now.”

Emma recoiled as if struck, her eyes widening in disbelief at his defiance.

“How dare you speak to me like that?” she retorted, her voice trembling with hurt. “You're the one who should be apologizing, Henry. You lied and cheated on me, with another man no less.”

Henry shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Apologizing for what exactly? I have lived for so long denying who I am and you’re not innocent either so… just don’t.”

Emma's expression hardened, her features contorting with anger. “I should be leaving you,” she declared, her voice dripping with venom. “You've broken my heart, shattered it into a million pieces with your lies and your deceit.”

Henry's laughter echoed, a bitter echo of the pain that consumed him. “Maybe you should,” he shrugged, his voice heavy with resignation. “A divorce would certainly make things easier for both of us.”

Emma gasped in shock, her eyes widening in disbelief. “You can't be serious,” she protested, her voice trembling. “After everything we've been through, you would just throw it all away?”

Henry met her gaze with steely resolve, his jaw set in a grim line. “Maybe it's time we faced the truth, Emma,” he said, his voice cold and distant. “We're not happy together, and we never will be. It's time we stopped pretending otherwise.”

Emma's eyes brimmed with tears, her heart aching with the pain of rejection.

“But I love you, Henry,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a broken sob. “I'm willing to forgive you, to forget everything that's happened, if it means we can be together.”

But even in the face of his rejection, she refused to give up hope. Stepping closer, she reached out to touch his chest, her touch gentle and seductive.

“I'm willing to forgive and forget,” she whispered, her voice pleading with desperation. “We've both made mistakes, but we can move past them together. We can be happy again.”

But Henry recoiled from her touch, his heart hardened against the seductive allure of her words.

“If you know what's good for you, you'll leave me alone.”

With that, he turned and fled up the staircase, leaving Emma standing alone in the hallway, her laughter echoing in the empty silence.

“You will never leave me, Henry!” She whispered.

And as she stood there, listening to the echo of his footsteps fading into the distance, she couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Henry would never leave her, she knew. Not now, not ever.

***

Mateo sat slouched on the couch, his once vibrant energy now replaced by a heavy blanket of exhaustion and despair. His long hair cascaded loosely around his shoulders, mirroring the disarray of his emotions. The faded t-shirt and sweatpants he wore seemed to blend into the shadows of the dimly lit room, a physical reflection of his inner turmoil.

It had been two days since everything began to unravel. The silence from Henry, Mark, and even Genevieve weighed heavily on him, suffocating him with a sense of isolation. He reached for his phone instinctively, hoping for a missed call or a message, but the screen remained stubbornly blank, echoing the emptiness of his heart.

Mateo sighed, a heavy exhale that carried the weight of his unanswered questions and unspoken fears. His fingers ran through his hair, tangling in the unruly strands as if searching for solace in the chaos. But there was none to be found.

Suddenly, a voice shattered the suffocating silence, piercing through the haze of Mateo's thoughts like a beacon in the dark.

“Do you love him?”

Startled, Mateo jolted upright as if a surge of electricity had shot through his veins. His eyes widened as he turned towards the source of the voice, his heart pounding in his chest.

There, standing at a distance, was Henry. But he was different. His usually confident demeanor was replaced by a haunting shadow of vulnerability, his shirt half-buttoned as if he had hastily thrown it on in a moment of desperation.

To be continued…