After He Betrayed Me, I Disgraced Him

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.