The city lights flickered on, cloaking the night in a hazy glow.
88th floor, Delman International Hotel.
Ciara Wren hurried down the corridor, her eyes darting left and right, heart pounding as she searched for room 8011.
Turning a corner, her gaze locked onto the gold-plated numbers 8011 gleaming on a deep red, ornate door. The shine was blinding, like a slap to the face.
She slowed her steps. The door—it wasn’t fully closed.
“Jake... ah, too fast... slow down~”
The soft, flirty moan drifted out. It wasn’t super clear, but she caught every word—crystal clear.
Ciara froze.
Just earlier, her bestie had called saying she might’ve just spotted Jacob Mason at this hotel—with a girl in his arms.
Ciara didn't buy it. That wasn’t him. No way.
But right after the call, a photo popped up on her phone. Sure enough, it was Jacob. Shirtless. Hugging some woman like they were glued together.
The woman's face was hidden in the shadows, but the sofa behind them had the unmistakable Delman International Hotel logo stitched on the cover.
Ciara had no clue who sent the photo, but her chest felt like it was on fire.
Then she remembered—the hotel name matched what her bestie said. It was all lining up.
No... Jacob couldn’t do this. They were doing so well. Why would he screw it up?
“Babe, you’re amazing. Twist a little—yeah, that’s it!”
That voice—his voice—slammed into her like a punch. It echoed in her ears, over and over.
Ciara leaned her head against the wall. Her eyes shimmered with pain, holding everything in.
"Jake, we’ve been together forever now... I’m done hiding like this," the woman whined, voice soft and pathetic.
Ciara’s eyes widened stiffly. Had he been sneaking around with this woman all along?
No. No way. That wasn’t possible. Jacob wouldn’t betray her like this. It had to be a mix-up.
Hands trembling, she fumbled for her phone and dialed his number.
Holding her breath, she backed into the corner, desperately hoping this was just some crazy misunderstanding. That wasn’t him in the room. It couldn’t be.
The phone rang for ages before he finally picked up, sounding annoyed. “What’s up?”
Ciara bit her lip hard, trying to keep her voice steady. “Jake, where are you? Weren’t we having dinner tonight? It’s already eight... and you’re still not here.”
“Something came up. Got a meeting tonight, might not make it. We’ll do it another time.” His response came quick and careless.
Ciara blinked, her eyes turning misty. “Will it run late? I can wait for you.”"I already told you, I can't make it tonight!" Jacob snapped, then after a brief pause, his tone eased up a bit. "Don't wait for me, I'll be tied up pretty late. That's it."
He hung up on her, cold as ice, not a shred of hesitation. Ciara stared at the screen, her fingers still loosely holding the phone while a wave of bitterness swept through her chest.
Wiping the tears away quickly, she walked back to the hotel room door.
From inside, the sounds were... unmistakable. The kind that made your ears burn. A low male groan, a woman's breathless moan—one after another, getting louder.
"Jacob... Jacob..." The woman’s voice rose higher, like she’d just lost control.
Ciara's head buzzed like someone flipped a switch in her brain. So he was literally mid-act while talking to her on the phone. Unbelievable.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
"Baby... Selena, God, I love you so damn much!" Jacob’s voice came through again—low, raspy, post-climax. Way too intimate.
It would've been intoxicating... if he hadn’t just crushed her.
"I love you too, Jacob. But what now?"
Ciara’s thoughts were a mess, like someone slammed a drum against her skull.
"Don't worry, I'll talk to Grandpa. He won’t force you into anything, I swear," he said, still pretending to be Prince Charming.
Ciara swallowed down the lump in her throat, turned around, and without another word, kicked open the door with a loud bang—it echoed all down the corridor.
From around the hallway corner, another woman leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. Long hair tumbling down her shoulders as she glanced toward Ciara heading in, a smug little smirk sitting pretty on her lips.
Her heels clicked sharply as she turned and strutted off without a word.
Inside, Ciara’s expression was stone cold, her eyes sharp as blades.
The two tangled on the couch looked like they'd been caught in a bad movie scene—still totally naked, limbs wrapped around each other like no one would ever walk in.
Ciara’s fists clenched again, her eyes scanning the scene with almost mocking calm. Really? Couldn’t even make it to the bed?
She stared, unflinching, like she was dissecting them with her gaze.
"Ah!" the woman shrieked first, scrambling to pull away.
Jacob looked straight-up stunned but instinctively grabbed a nearby throw to cover them.
Ciara always came off warm and quiet, but once triggered—she exploded.
Without a word, she kicked the wine bottle off the table. It smashed against the floor, red liquid splattering like blood.
Another scream from the woman, now hiding her face in Jacob’s chest like a scared kitten—except her lips twitched upwards, and her eyes were full of triumph.
The second Ciara saw her face, her entire body froze.
She couldn’t believe it. Her pupils shrank sharply.
"Selena Carter!"
