Blackmailing the Billionaire

"Are you fucking blind?" The Greek god in front of me screams in agony.

I had accidently spilt hot soup on our most important customer. He was our boss's special guest. Kill me, now!

“I…sir, I am so…sorry,” I stutter due to fear. I remember our manager informing us about this certain customer.

The man was described as "The Most Notorious Billionaire of America." He owns multiple casinos and bars in Las Vegas, but that isn’t even half his empire. He’s also the CEO of a leading company with multiple branches all around the world. Surrounded by wealth, he has a high temper and attitude. He only dates the most famous models. That is what the paparazzi have posted about him. And what did I do? I dropped boiling hot soup right on him.

Wait a minute…rich people wear expensive clothes! That 3-piece suit must be the work of the most famous designer. Rich people expect only the best.

I grab a handkerchief and start rubbing it all over his suit, his muscular thighs, and even his crotch in a state of absolute fret.

“What do you think you're doing? Don't touch me, you stupid waitress!" the man bellows, instantly standing up to his full height. He must be over 6 feet for sure. His looks are quite deceiving. If not a businessman, he should have been a model.

Even though I am not a man, I would totally buy the clothes he modeled. That is, if I had the money.

“Are you even listening to me? This is the worst restaurant ever with the most moronic staff. Who even hired this trash? Take me to Lisa right now!" the man ordered our manager and my little bubble broke.

“Sir, please do not complain…I will lose my job. I'm really sorry. I'll...pay for your suit if that is the reason for your complaint,” I utter without even thinking. I need this job badly!

“Hah," the man laughs sarcastically.

“You will pay for this?” he taunts, pointing to his clothes.

I nod my head in in uncertainty. What did I get myself into?

“Do you know how much this cost? Your lifetime savings won't make up for this suit. It's fucking 50k, so tell me, how exactly will you pay me back?” he asks with one brow raised, questioning me and humiliating me at the same time.

“I won't be able to, sir. I'm sorry,” I whisper, looking down and back away a little bit. He has a way with intimidating people.

The manager leads the businessman to the owner, Lisa's, office right beside the reception area.

The businessman enters without knocking while I stand outside waiting to be called by my boss. I have already messed up; I don't want to be disrespectful now.

“Are you waiting for an invitation or what?” a voice screams. I look up to see a woman in her mid-thirties wearing the most elegant dress with real rubies embedded in it. Her earrings are made of blue diamonds and on her neck rests a beautiful matching necklace. Her stilettos are longer than my short-lived career.

I hurriedly step in and stand aside obediently.

“Tell me, Noah, what seems to be the problem?" the woman asks politely.

“That seems to be the problem.” Noah points at me as if I am utter trash and my sole presence is a harm to his high standards. This man made me feel so low with in a second.

“Madam, it was an accident. I was clumsy and I admit my fault. You can cut my salary, or if Mr. Noah wants to punish me in any way then I accept, but I desperately need this job,” I beg, trying my luck.

“You're fired,” she says dismissively, paying no heed to my plea. My hopes are crushed. I worked so hard to get this job. My previous job never paid all the bills, and it was always a huge headache.

“Please just one more chance. I swear I won't mess up again,” I beg. At this point I seem pathetic but anyone in my place would do the same. I have responsibilities.

“Do you want me to call the guards?” Lisa asks rudely. I shake my head and leave the office with my head bowed down.

As I leave the restaurant, I hear Lisa say, “So tell me sweetie, anything else I can do for my nephew?” So they are related.

As I step outside the restaurant, the warm air hits me and heat rushes in. The sun’s rays penetrate, giving me a headache.

But I wait outside for Mr. Noah. I have to try one more time. I can't lose this job or else Morty will freak out so bad. No, Morty will hurt me. I have to try one more time.

After 15 minutes of holding myself together in the scorching heat, Mr. Noah finally comes out. I look at him with hopeful eyes. He glances at me, smirking and then puts on his black shades, heading towards his limousine.

I stop him in his path, clutching his hand tightly in desperation.

“Sir please understand my helplessness. I beg of you to give me back my job. Surely the boss will listen to you as you are closely related,” I beg, sounding extremely desperate.

“Let go of my hand,” he orders in a strong voice.

“No, not until I get my job back. You're not being fair sir,” I insist, adamant about getting my job back.

The man loses his temper, within a second he rotates his wrists and twists around so that he now holds me by my wrists.

“Don't fucking pester me peasant,” he grits out.

He then puts pressure on my wrists. It starts hurting and I try to pull away.

“Stop it, sir, you're hurting me,” I whimper with tearful eyes.

The man pushes me away and I fall to the ground. The man gets into his expensive car, leaving me jobless and broke in a cloud of smoke and dust.

If I am not able to pay Morty back in time, he will abuse my little brother and me again. I need to find a new job fast!

The rich man, Noah, could have just forgiven me. Fifty thousand dollars isn’t much for people like him, but he had to make a fuss about it.

He did that because he had the power to do so. Rich people are so insensitive, they can never understand the problems of people like me.

I acted that way because I have certain obligations. I would have never begged him if I was a free person, who didn’t have to worry about bills, rent, my little brother’s expenses, and most of all, the goon, Morty. He was the problem! He was the reason I was destitute.

“Hey Emma, that was Noah Enrique,” Jess, a waitress in the same restaurant explains, reminding me of the reason I lost my job.

“But why was he harassing you?” Jess asks, confused.

“Harassing…”

“I mean why was he holding your wrist like that? Is he interested in you? Did he offer you something and you denied it? Is it the reason he threw you away with force? What happened between you guys? I can’t even believe Noah Enrique is interested in you,” Jess exclaims. Yes, she is the type of girl who is always interested in gossip.

Before I can deny her made-up story, she shoves her phone in my face.

“Here, see? I recorded the whole thing to show people. It will be such a great story. People will pay to watch it,” she exclaims excitedly. An idea pops in my head.

“Hey Jess, can you send me that video? So I can remember my moment with The Noah Enrique,” I lie, though the lie itself disgusts me.

“Yeah sure,” she replies and then goes back to work. Jess is actually late for work, but she gets away with it since she is dating our manager. I mean, she is pretty, tall, and beautiful, who wouldn’t date her?

I sigh and go back home. I’m greeted by my 4-year-old brother, Timothy. Sadly, he doesn’t go to school yet since I can’t afford it. I thought this new job would help me a lot as it pays a handsome amount.

I play with Tim for some time before there is a knock on my door. I look through the peep hole and find the goon, Morty.

“Morty…why are…you here?” I ask, scared.

“You know very well. Open the door bitch,” he shouts in a gruff voice.

I slowly open the door and he barges in. He is a tall and rough man. He has a lot of muscles, but no woman could ever find him handsome. He stinks terribly.

“My money,” he demands.

I lower my head, biting my lips. The thing is, I was supposed to get my paycheck today, but since I got fired there was no paycheck. Those are the restaurant rules.

“Speak up bitch. Did you go mute?” he asks aggressively. Morty loses his temper quite fast.

“I don’t have your money, but I swear I’ll get it by tomorrow. I’ll get it to you, I swear, please don’t hurt us,” I start pleading because I know where this is heading.

“You took fucking ninety thousand dollars from me for that piece of shit’s treatment and I gave it to you. You were supposed to return that money in 6 months and now it has been a year and you’ve only paid twenty thousand dollars. Where is the rest of the money?” he screams like a mad man, kicking the sofa.

Tim and I both flinch, scared. Tim hides behind me.

“Why couldn’t you get my money today?” he asks, bewildered.

“I-I got fired,” I reply and in an instant, Morty slaps me hard, causing me to fall down. My cheek stings and the room spins. It takes time to get my vision straight.

“Fucking bitch can’t do a single job right. Now how will I get my money?” he screams.

“I’ll give it to you somehow…just please don’t cause a scene,” I cry.

He advances towards Tim and picks him up roughly by his collar.

“I’m going to hurt this brat really bad. You either give me the money by tomorrow night or I’ll fuck this whole house up and take your brother with me,” Morty warns, dropping Tim like trash.

He eyes both of us dangerously. We’re both lying miserably on the floor before he finally decides to leave.

I grab Tim and try to relax him even though we are both crying. After 10 minutes, he falls asleep, and I tuck him in his bed. I wipe my tears and get myself a glass of water to calm my nerves.

Just then Noah Enrique comes to my mind. I need money and fast. I think about what Jess said. What if I can threaten him into giving me money with the help of that video? It’s risky, but what other options do I have? I have none.

It’s evil, but I have no other choice. I find his e-mail through the internet and decide to email him. I email the video alone, then I email him the following message: Transfer seventy thousand dollars to the account provided, or else this video will go viral.

My heart is beating quite rapidly. In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have ever done that. But my circumstances are nowhere near normal.

I wait for an hour before I finally get a response, but not an email. Instead I get a text from a private number: Waitress, you do realize the consequences of your actions?

I freak out a little bit, but I’ve come this far. It would be useless to back out now.

“I can defame you for sexual harassment. The video is proof. If you do not want any threats to your career, send the money or else prepare yourself for mayhem. People will boycott your company.”

I try to sound intimidating but feel like I’m failing.

“Nothing like that happened. We both know it waitress.” I read his reply, thinking for a second, and then text back.

“You know that, and I know that, but other people don’t know that. They will believe whatever the video shows, and your image will be ruined. You might even face sexual harassment charges so think wisely.” I hit send.

I don’t get a reply for the next 30 minutes and that makes me anxious. Did I make the wrong decision?

Finally, my phone beeps and I open his reply quickly. Relief spreads over me.

“Fine, seventy thousand dollars, cash. Come to my office. The address is ***. You personally hand me the footage and I’ll give you the money.”

His text makes me extremely happy. Finally all my problems will end. I won’t have to be scared of Morty. My debt will be paid, and I can finally have some time to think about other things like Tim’s education.

I’ll easily get the money tomorrow. Nothing can go wrong, right?