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Going Berserk Over a Hijacked Hotel Membership Novel Cover

Going Berserk Over a Hijacked Hotel Membership

A late-night call from a hotel reveals a charge for a room and amenities on a VIP card, but the owner was working an overnight shift. When confronted, his wife, Nyla Burdette, denies any involvement, blaming a system error for the expensive bill. Refusing to ignore the discrepancy, he contacts his uncle, Eric Fuller, an investor at the establishment. Driven by suspicion and a need for answers, he initiates a private investigation to uncover who was really in that room.
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Chapter 3

Nyla let go of Craig's hand, strode straight toward me, and slapped me hard across the face.

"Have you no shame, Craig Dickson? Just because you wanted a full-time position after your internship and tried to hint at sleeping your way in—and I rejected you—you've been holding a grudge ever since. And now, you even dare to harass my husband publicly?"

I clutched my swollen, burning cheek, staring at her in disbelief.

The woman in front of me felt terrifyingly unfamiliar. Just before I came to the hotel, she'd still been pretending to know nothing over the phone, gently telling me not to overthink things in that usual patient manner of hers.

And now, just a short time later, she could lie through her teeth without batting an eyelid and even raise her hand against me.

So she really had two faces all along.

Looking back, the signs were always there. She only lit up when I bought her the latest designer items, but when it came to the scientific research achievements I had poured my heart and soul into, she scoffed at them and claimed they were nothing but junk.

Her concern for me had only ever been for my bank account.

Perhaps she had never loved me or tried to understand the real me at all.

A wave of calm rose from somewhere deep inside me, overpowering all my anger.

I lowered the hand clutching my face and looked directly at her. My voice was so steady that it surprised even me.

"Nyla Burdette, say that again. Tell me—who am I? And who is he?"

A flicker of panic flashed in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by an even stronger, more unapologetic defiance.

"You really are a lunatic! Didn't I make myself clear enough? He is my husband, Bryce Sheehan! And you? You're just an intern who failed to sleep your way to the top, Craig!"

She looked me up and down, her tone dripping with contempt. "Just look at yourself. You're nearly 40 years old, aren't you? How could I possibly marry someone like you? Can you please have some self-awareness?"

The people around us immediately broke out into whispers again.

"Wow. He's stuck in a miserable life himself, so he's jealous of others' happiness."

"Not only is he a lunatic, but he's full-on delusional too. How scary."

"That young couple is so unlucky to get harassed by a psycho like this."

I stayed silent, watching their performance.

It seemed like Nyla was determined to protect Craig no matter what, even if it meant dragging me through the mud. But did she really think she could rewrite reality just by running her mouth?

I slowly pulled out my ID and marriage certificate from the bag I always carried. "These should be enough to prove my identity."

The expressions on both of their faces froze instantly. Craig's eyes widened in disbelief as he urgently tugged at Nyla's sleeve.

Nyla lunged forward, roughly snatched the documents from my hands, and without even looking at them, hurled them straight out through the hotel's revolving doors.

"Aren't you done yet?" she snarled, veins bulging at her temple as her performance became even more convincing. "You already forged a fake ID last time to gross me out, and now you've escalated to forging marriage certificates too?"

"Can you please have some shame, Craig? Do you think I won't call the police and report you for harassment and forgery of government documents?"

The glares from the people around us had already shifted from disdain to pure disgust, and they started yelling for Nyla to call the cops.

I was truly in awe of Nyla's quick thinking. The moment I produced evidence, she immediately labeled it as fake.

At that moment, I even wished that the marriage certificate was indeed fake.

Craig visibly relaxed. He pulled Nyla into his arms again, then spoke to me in a tone that sounded sympathetic but was actually laced with malice.

"Bro, you've been under so much pressure from your abusive wife that you've developed mental issues. I can introduce you to a good psychiatrist and an excellent divorce lawyer."

He deliberately emphasized the word "divorce". After all, if I did get divorced, he could rightfully take my place.

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