Annie stood in front of her mirror, smoothing down the soft red dress that hugged her curves just right. Her heart fluttered with excitement — tonight was special. Camdam had promised a proper date, something they hadn't done in months. Between her endless shifts at the bar and his unpredictable schedule, their relationship had slipped into lazy takeouts and half-hearted cuddles. But tonight, things were going to change.
She smiled at her reflection, adding a final touch of gloss to her lips. The glow in her eyes felt rare these days, but for Cam, it was worth it. Just as she reached for her purse, her phone buzzed on the dresser. A text — from an unknown number.
**********
The text read:
"If you want to know where your boyfriend really is tonight, meet him at Hotel Crimson, Room 621."
Annie's hand froze mid-air, her heart skipping a beat. Her first thought was a prank — maybe one of Cam's friends with a terrible sense of humor. But why now? And why did it feel so... specific?
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to call Cam and ask where he was, but something stopped her. Curiosity. Fear. A flicker of doubt she didn't want to admit was already there.
Tucking her phone into her purse, Annie grabbed her coat and headed outside, her heels clicking against the apartment floor with a nervous rhythm. When the cab pulled up, she slid inside, her voice a little shaky as she gave the driver the address.
"Hotel Crimson."
The name tasted bitter on her tongue.
The ride felt longer than it should have, the city's lights flashing past the window, her reflection staring back at her with wide eyes and a restless heart. Her mind raced—maybe it's a surprise. Maybe he's planning something romantic. But deep down, a darker voice whispered: Or maybe he's exactly where they said he'd be.
When the cab stopped in front of the tall, glass-covered hotel, Annie almost told the driver to turn around. Almost. Instead, she stepped out, her heels wobbling slightly on the pavement as she walked through the revolving doors.
The elevator was painfully slow, every floor ding tightening the knot in her stomach. When the doors finally opened on the 6th floor, Annie's palms were damp, her breath coming faster. The hallway stretched ahead, dimly lit and too quiet. She counted the numbers until she stood in front of Room 621.
For a moment, she just stood there, hand raised but not knocking. What if it's all a mistake?
But what if it's not?
Before her courage could disappear completely, Annie turned the knob. The door wasn't locked. It swung open—just enough for her to see the room inside.
And there they were.
Cam.
Samantha.
Twisted in white hotel sheets, tangled together like lovers who had no idea the world existed outside their bed.
The sound that left Annie's throat wasn't a scream — it was something rawer, something she couldn't even recognize as her own voice.
Samantha jolted upright, clutching the sheet to her chest. Cam's face went pale as he scrambled to sit up.
"Annie—wait—"
But Annie didn't wait.
She turned and ran.
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