oden handle of the closet door, hearing the latch click into place. She turned around, her b

rabbed a discarded oversized men's dress shirt from the armchair and pulled it on, lea

mahogany door beeped sharply. The sound of a keycard being for

ay spilled into the dim suite, bringing with it a chaotic stamp

a mask of exaggerated panic. "Alia! Are you in her

heavy cameras and microphones, their lenses scanning the room like hungry predators

terrified by the sudden intrusion. She let her knees buckle slightly,

g but a men's shirt, her hair a messy tangle. A f

ho is the man?" Cherri gasped loudly, covering her m

rmed the sofa, shoving their micropho

ansactions in this hotel?" A reporter with th

nting the perfect image of a broken, weeping woman. Beneath t

ster while pouring gasoline on the fire. "Stop filming her! My si

room, searching for the hidden lover. Her gaze l

e police to have him arrested!" Cherri marched to

She tensed her leg muscles,

d from the terrace. The heavy glass sliding door connecting

stuffy room. Everyone froze, turning

nd five-inch stilettos. She tossed her long hair over her shoulder, flanked by two massive men

ee who dares to touch my people." Caitlyn's v

She was a top-tier socialite no one in the media dared to cross. The

he had meticulously planned this, and Caitl

doing here?" Cherri sta

self protectively in front of Alia. She looked d

ing audition and needed a place to rest. Do I need to report

anging rapidly. This was no longer a sex scandal; it was

inger at the oversized shirt Alia was wearing. "An a

water from the coffee table and, without a second of hesit

ing backward as the water ruined her flawless makeup,

ss and borrowed it. Do you have a problem with that?" Caitlyn li

raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine amusement crossi

ington heir. They would rather jump off the Brooklyn Bridge tha

iological tear from the corner of her eye. She locked her cold ga