Chapter 1: Chapter 1: What’s the Use of Being Pretty? I Was Cheated On Anyway.
(Reader Advisory: This story is entirely fictional and set in an imaginary world. Please do not connect it to any real people or events!!!
P.S. The male lead does not have an old flame. The female lead’s sister and the male lead are just comrades-in-arms. This is a one-on-one story, and both leads are virgins. Please think twice before leaving a negative review!)
The vast room was empty.
On the desk, a laptop was playing an explicit video, with sounds occasionally emerging from it.
The events in the video were taking place right next door, in room 1201...
Meanwhile.
In the bathroom of room 1202, the air was thick with steam.
Claire Sinclair’s delicate, pale feet rested in the water. Her slender fingers scrubbed absently at her slim waist as she bathed, muttering to herself:
"What’s the use of being pretty? I still got cheated on..."
She knew both the man and woman having an affair in the room next door. One was her college boyfriend of two years, Logan Linden, and the other was her stepsister, Melanie Sinclair.
Claire Sinclair had used her hacking skills to get the video playing on the laptop outside.
She had originally hacked into Logan Linden’s phone just to find the delivery number for a place with amazing thirteen-spice crayfish.
He hadn’t answered her numerous calls, and her foodie cravings had kicked into overdrive. She was dead set on getting some thirteen-spice crayfish, so she had secretly hacked Logan Linden’s phone.
’Who the hell knew? It was bad enough that the bastard was cheating, but he actually recorded the whole thing on his own phone.’
’Scumbags!’
’So disgusting!’
’Just die!’
’Once I’m out of the shower, I’ll go over there, catch them in the act, and have it out with them. I’m done with this!’
Lost in her chaotic thoughts, the girl was completely unaware that in the twelfth-floor hallway, six men in black suits were quietly approaching.
The man in the lead walked up to the door of room 1202 and ordered in a low voice, "Open the door."
One of the men stepped forward and swiped a keycard, opening the door.
Once inside, the men in black suits quickly scanned the room but didn’t see their target.
However, a rather embarrassing sound was coming from inside the room.
"#¥%..."
"#%#@~~"
With strange expressions, the men all glanced at the laptop on the desk. The eye-searing scene was too much to watch, and they quickly looked away.
SPLASH...
A noise came from the bathroom.
The leader led his men to the bathroom door, took a deep breath, and raised his hand to signal a countdown.
Three.
Two.
One.
Breach!
BANG—
The bathroom door was suddenly kicked open. Claire Sinclair screamed, "Oh my god!" and instinctively grabbed a bath towel to wrap around herself as she scrambled into a corner.
At the same time, someone yelled, "About-face!"
All the men in black suits spun around in unison, their footsteps falling in perfect sync.
Claire Sinclair stood there, dumbfounded. ’What is happening???’
’Who are these men???’
’Thugs?’
"Wh-who are you people? Wh-what do you want?"
’Don’t tell me they found out. Three months ago, I hacked a game company to get back the dollar I regretted spending on my first top-up. Is this about that?’
’It was only a dollar... Did they really need to send this many people to catch me?’
With his back still to Claire Sinclair, the leader said sternly, "Claire Sinclair, get dressed immediately and come with us!"
"Wait, why should I go with you? Who the hell are you?" Claire Sinclair protested while frantically pulling on a bathrobe.
’I’m so screwed...’
’I didn’t bring a change of clothes in here, my dirty clothes are soaked, and now all I have is this bathrobe!’
The leader silently counted off a few seconds. Figuring enough time had passed, he cautiously turned back around.
Seeing that she was dressed—even if it was just in a bathrobe, at least she was covered—he issued his command. "You’ll understand when we get there. Take her!"
* * *
To the reader:
You’ve already boarded my ship, so I must trust you, and you must trust me. The future will be fraught with danger. Only with perfect rapport can we reach the shore together. —Cecilia Jardine