Chapter 1
I wasn't here to catch them cheating. I was here to collect what they owed me.
It was Friday at 7 PM, and I was queuing in front of the cheapest food station in the canteen, just about to tap my card for the most basic plate of pasta. Then my phone buzzed; it was a payment notification.
A charge from Blue Ridge Hotel: deluxe king suite, 230 dollars.
Last four digits of the payment card: 6207.
This was the very card Mom had loaded my monthly living expenses onto just the night before.
The words "deluxe king suite" stung, but the line beneath it cut deeper still: [complimentary breakfast for two.]
I scrimped just to afford a simple pasta for dinner, yet those two had already booked a couples' breakfast in advance.
*****
Thirty minutes earlier, my boyfriend Alex Sheridan had messaged me on WhatsApp, saying his professor had scheduled a last-minute lab session and told me not to wait up for him.
Down at the dorm entrance, my roommate Chloe Jones stood clutching a stack of textbooks, waving her phone to tell me she planned to pull an all-nighter at the library and save me a study spot, too.
I pushed the untouched pasta back to the stall clerk, slung my bag over my shoulder, and hailed a cab straight to Blue Ridge Hotel.
Riding in the taxi, I opened my Venmo app and scrolled through the transaction history.
A sharp twinge squeezed my heart the second my eyes landed on the payment method line: [Temporary Authorized Payment Access.]
Four months ago, Alex had signed up for an innovation and entrepreneurship competition, only to hit his debit card's transaction limit.
He'd begged me relentlessly to grant him one week of temporary payment authorization, promising he'd turn the access off the moment the competition registration fee was charged.
Back then, all I could think about was that he was chasing bigger opportunities, so I should support him.
I'd agreed without a second thought.
Alex never brought it up again afterward, and I'd forgotten all about revoking the permission.
It turned out it wasn't forgetfulness at all.
He'd never intended to let me remember.
The front desk clerk glanced at my transaction record, then shot me a cautious look. "Ma'am, are you here to request a refund, or..."
"Neither." I flipped my phone face-down on the counter. "I am the account holder who made this payment.
"I demand to verify the guest who checked in with this charge, and I want all surveillance footage and consumption records from tonight preserved. I won't hesitate to contact the police if necessary."
The clerk froze in stunned silence.
I added firmly, "If the guests staying in the room are my boyfriend and my roommate, this is no longer a relationship drama. It's a financial matter."
Daring not to press further questions, she called the duty manager over at once.
Five minutes later, I followed the hotel manager up to the twelfth floor, heading straight for Room 1209.
A strange calm settled over me as the manager knocked on the door, no trace of nervousness in my bones, only bitter amusement.
This was my first time setting foot in such a hotel, not as a guest, but to claim back the living expenses stolen right out of my pocket.
The door creaked open a crack.
Chloe stood there wearing my cream knit cardigan, her hair half-dried from the hairdryer, makeup still intact on her face. Her expression froze the instant she saw me.
In her hand, she twirled my hair tie, the very one I'd left in my dorm.
A buzzing numbness clouded my mind, yet my expression turned icy and impassive.
I pushed the door open fully. On the bedside table sat two milkshakes and a fruit platter. Alex's laptop lay discarded on the sofa, and the sound of running water drifted out from the bathroom.
Snapping out of her daze, Chloe reached out to pull my arm. "Alice, don't misunderstand, I—"
"Misunderstand what?" I lifted my phone slightly. "Misunderstand that you two accidentally used my card to book a hotel room?"