The group took seats just a few rows behind me while the manager checked them in. I silently thanked myself for putting on a little disguise earlier and quickly closed all my tabs related to Pamella.

As the lobby quieted down, with only the soft background music playing, Pamella’s voice cut through. “Hey, use your eyes! Are you dumb? Why are you putting my twenty-thousand-dollar Birkin on the floor? Give me that! Moron!”

There were always rumors about her being rude to her staffs and this was just another one to add to the list. She had a well-earned reputation as a diva.

“Someone, take me to the toilet now!” Pamella barked and one of her staff quickly followed her to the restroom.

I overheard two women behind me, who I assumed were also her staff, whispering to each other.

“I’m so over her. Did you hear what she said earlier?”

“Yeah, me too. We should find another job. I heard Baye’s going on a world tour and needs more people.”

“The Queen Baye? That would be amazing. At least she’s not a flop like Pam.”

“Yeah, her career is tanking this year. She didn’t even win anything at the Stellar Sound Awards.”

“You heard about her latest victim? Poor guy.”

“Oh, that businessman? I just hope he doesn’t lose his head and fall into her trap.”

My breath caught in my throat, wondering if they were talking about someone I knew all too well.

“Shush! Just let them be. It’s showbiz,” another woman added, trying to calm the conversation.

I felt a surge of anxiety and had to fight the urge to jump into their conversation. Instead, I kept my head down, pretending to be busy on my laptop.

Then, Pamella reappeared, chatting on her phone. “Yeah, honey, see you at my room tonight, then.” She smirked as she ended the call.

The manager quickly handed out the room keys, then walked off, followed by the staff struggling with Pamella’s mountain of luggage. I exhaled in relief, taking a moment to steady myself. Then I pulled out my phone and texted Mary, [Hey, can you find out what floor Pamella is on?]

A few minutes later, Mary replied, [My friend isn’t sure if she can give out that info.]

I rolled my eyes and typed back, [Tell her I’ll give her 50 bucks.]

A pause, then Mary responded, [She wants 100.]

I sighed, but I needed that information, so I agreed. Moments later, Mary texted back, [20th floor, room 2001.]

A small smile crept onto my face. Perfect. I quickly packed up my laptop and headed over to the receptionist. “I’d like to book a room on the 20th floor, please,” I said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

The young receptionist glanced at me for a moment, probably sizing me up, before asking for my ID and making the reservation. A few clicks later, she handed me the key. “Room 2010.”

“Thank you,” I said with a polite smile, tucking the key into my pocket. I felt a mix of excitement and nerves as I made my way to the elevator. I was getting closer to the truth, even if it meant staying in the same hotel as Pamella.

When I got to my room, I noticed it was directly across from Pamella’s. That little detail made me grin—things were lining up perfectly. I pulled out a portable mini spy camera from my bag, stuck it discreetly on my door and connected it to my laptop via Bluetooth. Now I had a clear view of the hallway and could monitor any movement right from my screen.

I settled in and waited, staring at the screen for what felt like forever. But nothing happened. The hallway remained as quiet as a grave and boredom started creeping in. I didn’t want to risk missing anything, so I picked up my phone and called Margareta.

"Hey, Mar. Where are you now?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

She didn’t buy it for a second. "Why do you want to know? I’ve got a bad feeling about this."

"Come on," I urged. "I booked a room at the hotel where Pamella’s staying. Stay here with me and we can take shifts watching the camera. You’re the one who told me to go all in, right?"

She sighed, clearly torn. "But tomorrow’s the weekend. I need some family time, you know, away from work."

I knew Margareta wouldn’t be easily convinced, so I sweetened the deal. "How about a free spa day at the hotel? My treat."

There was a pause, then a reluctant, "Okay, fine. Just send me the address."

I couldn’t help but cheer a little as I hung up the phone, knowing I had just secured some backup for the long night ahead.

Thirty minutes later, Margareta arrived. I was still parked in front of my laptop, scrolling through social media to pass the time.

After setting her stuff down, she said, "Move aside, let me take a look."

"Thanks, Mar. I appreciate it so much," I said, sending her a playful air kiss.

I flopped onto the bed and turned my attention to Pamella’s latest social media update. She had posted a photo of her legs in a bathtub, surrounded by flowers. No caption this time, just the lyrics of “Good for You” by Selena Gomez playing softly in the background. The lyrics were seductive.

Cause I just wanna look good for you, good for you

I just wanna look good for you, good for you

Let me show you how proud I am to be yours

Leave this dress a mess on the floor

And still look good for you, good for you

It felt like a not-so-subtle invite aimed at someone specific, so I took a screenshot of the post just as my phone rang. It was Isaac. "Em, just wanted to give you a heads-up. Niall's heading toward the hotel now."

I paused for a moment before replying, "Okay, stay sharp and snap some pics if you see him."

Margareta, noticing my tense expression, asked, "What's going on?"

I forced a smile. "Nothing, everything's fine." Then I made my way to the bathroom for a bath.

Once I was in the tub, I sat there, lost in a daze. I couldn’t believe I was actually investigating my boyfriend’s possible affair. The weight of it all was almost too much to bear. My chest felt tight, but no tears came. I washed myself off with a mechanical, exhausted routine, feeling like I had no strength left. All I wanted was to curl up in bed and forget the world.

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to process the chaos, I suddenly heard rapid knocks on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” I called out, but Margareta kept shouting my name.

I quickly threw on my bathrobe and hurried out. Margareta looked excited but also concerned. “I just saw a guy walk into Pamella’s room,” she said. “And he was carrying a bouquet of roses.”

Margareta looked so happy, but my heart sank. The gut feeling I had was confirmed. I nodded and sat back down in front of the laptop. I replayed the camera footage from earlier and sure enough, there was a tall guy in a black suit strolling into Pamella’s room, bouquet in hand.

I felt lightheaded and had trouble catching my breath. Margareta was buzzing about how big this news could be, but then she noticed how pale I was and asked if I was alright.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I muttered, grabbing my phone and locking myself in the bathroom.

Once inside, I threw up everything I had eaten, tears streaming down my face. Margareta’s concerned voice came through the door, “Hey, are you okay? Emilie?”

I slumped against the bathroom floor and shouted back, “Shut up! I’m fine!” My throat was sore and I couldn’t stop crying. I let it all out until the heaviness in my chest lightened.

When I finally managed to stand up, I washed my mouth and face with cold water, trying to pull myself together. I flushed the toilet, still sobbing.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, my face was red and blotchy from crying. I continued to sob for about ten minutes, my nose stuffed up and my breaths coming in ragged gasps. After washing my face again and drying it with a towel, I plopped down on the toilet, trying to breathe normally.

Finally, I felt a bit more composed and checked my phone. As expected, Isaac had sent me a WhatsApp message with a few photos.

Trembling, I opened Isaac's message and my heart sank as I saw the photos.

[Emilie, I saw him entering the hotel.]

[4 photos attached]