3: The Fallout

Amelia grabbed her phone, hands shaking as she fumbled to call Claire. Her mind raced with anger and fear, her heart pounding so loud she could barely hear the dial tone. Claire had to have answers—she was the one who’d dragged her into this mess.

“Hey, babe!” Claire’s chirpy voice greeted on the third ring, a tone that made Amelia’s stomach twist. “Finally awake, huh?”

“Claire,” Amelia’s voice was low and icy, a stark contrast to her friend’s cheerfulness. “What did you do? What the hell happened last night?”

“Oh, calm down,” Claire said dismissively, chuckling softly. “You were having fun. We all were. Don’t overthink it.”

“Overthink it?” Amelia snapped, her grip tightening on the phone. “I woke up in a strange hotel room! My clothes were scattered everywhere, and I… I—” Her voice broke, tears threatening to spill again. “Claire, I don’t even know what I did or who I was with!”

There was a pause on the other end, and then Claire sighed. “Look, Amelia, you needed to loosen up. You’ve been so stressed about the wedding and Brad, and… well, I just thought you deserved a night to let go. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it?!” Amelia’s voice rose, and she clutched the sheet tighter around her trembling body. “Do you realize what you’ve done? I can’t even remember half of it, and the parts I do…” She trailed off, the shame choking her words.

Claire’s tone hardened. “No one forced you to do anything, Amelia. Don’t play the victim here. You were more than willing.”

Her words hit like a slap. Amelia’s knees weakened, and she sank onto the bed. “You… you knew,” she whispered, her voice hollow. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”

Another silence. Then Claire’s voice softened, but not with sympathy—more like irritation. “Look, Amelia, you can blame me all you want, but at the end of the day, you made your choices. Just… don’t tell Brad, okay? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

The line went dead before Amelia could respond, leaving her staring at the screen in stunned disbelief. The text message, the note from ‘AB,’ and now this call—everything pointed to one undeniable truth: Claire had orchestrated this, and Amelia had walked right into the trap.

Her tears dried as anger simmered beneath her humiliation. This wasn’t just a betrayal—it was sabotage. Whether intentional or not, Claire had jeopardized everything she held dear.

But she wasn’t going to crumble. Not yet. She wiped her face, stood, and began dressing. First, she’d confront Claire in person. Then she’d decide what to do next—about Brad, about the stranger, and about the life she’d thought she’d had under control.

One thing was clear: she couldn’t trust Claire anymore.

Determined to salvage what was left of her sanity, Amelia dressed quickly, and left the room without looking back.

As she stepped out of the hotel room she bumps right into someone. She looks up and sees — Brad.

Amelia froze instantly in shock. Brad was the last person she wanted to see right now.

Brad’s eyes widened as they locked onto Amelia’s. His clean-cut suit and polished shoes clashed starkly with her disheveled appearance. He looked as though he’d stepped out of a business meeting—sharp, composed, and very much in control. Amelia, by contrast, felt like her world was falling apart.

“Amelia?” His voice was a mixture of confusion and concern. “What are you doing here?”

Her mind raced. The guilt and panic roiling inside her threatened to boil over. What is he doing here? Did he know? Did Claire tell him? Questions collided in her brain, but she couldn’t find the words to answer him.

“I—” she stammered, clutching her purse tightly against her chest. “I… I was just leaving.”

Brad’s brows knit together. He glanced past her at the door she’d just exited, and then his gaze returned to her, sharp and probing. “Room 212?” His tone held malice, and a slight confusion, which made her knees feel like jelly.

“I was… staying here with Claire last night,” she blurted, the lie spilling out before she could stop it. “She booked a room, and we had a little too much to drink. I didn’t want to drive home.”

Brad’s expression hardened. “Claire?” He looked as if he were trying to piece something together. “When did you become a liar?.”

Amelia’s heart stopped."A liar?"

"Claire sent me here. Though she told me you were in room 221."

Amelia's eye popped. “Sent you here? Why?” Her voice cracked under the strain of keeping her panic hidden. Why would she send him here? Was this part of her plan too? Amelia felt trapped in quicksand, sinking deeper with every move.

“Yes." he snapped, storm brewing in his eyes. "What’s this, Amelia?” he asked shoving his phone at her.

Her blood runs cold as she stares at the screen in horror. It was a video of her dancing intimately with the stranger from last night.

"Who is he, Amelia?” he demands, shoving his phone in her face. Pictures of her leaving the club with the stranger comes up next.

“It’s not what it looks like,” she stammers, tears welling in her eyes. “I—Claire spiked my drink, and—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Brad roars. “You’ve always had an excuse for everything. I’m done.”

“Brad, please...”

I trusted you, Amelia!” Brad’s voice trembles with anger.

"Please..." Amelia gets down on her knees with tears streaming down her face.

"The wedding is off." he said despite her pleas, and immediately walks towards the elevator, leaving Amelia standing in the wreckage of her life, her chest heaving as sobs threaten to overtake her.