My husband and my best friend ch.ea.ted on me on what I thought was the happiest day of his life.

However, fate had very different plans.

It was a day like any other, or so I thought. After weeks of anticipation, my husband, Daniel, was about to give an important presentation at a company event he had worked so hard to create.

The pressure was intense, but he was prepared. The night before, I had meticulously prepared everything, including his favorite meal, and when he left in the morning, I wished him luck with a smile that hid my growing anxiety. He left, not suspecting what was about to happen.

However, something happened when I started cleaning the house. In the middle of the chores, I realized he had forgotten to bring his laptop. That important presentation was saved on it and I couldn’t let his work be ruined by something so simple.

I decided to go to the hotel where the event was being held to deliver it to him and prevent his efforts from going to waste. When I arrived, something was wrong. The hotel, which was usually full of people, was surprisingly empty.

Confused, I went to the front desk and asked the receptionist about the event. To my surprise, she told me that there were no events scheduled. I thought it was a mistake so I asked if she could check their system to see if there were any reservations under Daniel’s name.

After a moment of silence, she confirmed that there was indeed a room booked under his name and gave me the room number. I was skeptical, but I decided to proceed with caution. I went upstairs and approached the hallway.

Just then, I heard laughter, whispers, and something that made my blood run cold: kissing. My heart stopped for a moment. I looked around the corner and was horrified to see Daniel and my best friend, Hugo, walking hand in hand toward the room.

Pain stabbed through me like a dagger, but instead of confronting them, I decided to take pictures as evidence. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but I also knew I wouldn’t let this happen. I hid, tears in my eyes, and I knew I would get rev:enge.

I returned to the lobby, where the receptionist, who had witnessed my suffering, offered to help. Together, we devised a master plan. With a knowing look, she helped me into the private elevator, an unregistered elevator.

The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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