A Night Before Ruin

LILA

The ceiling was too white. Too smooth. Not like the cracked one over my bed at home. My eyes blinked fast. My breath caught. Silk sheets clung to my legs. I sat up. The room spun.

I scrambled off the bed, clutching the sheet to my chest. The room was huge, cold, and untouched. No clothes on the floor. No sound. Just the hum of the thermostat and the sharp throb behind my eyes.

My dress was folded neatly on a cream chair near the window. I had no memory of doing that. The heels I borrowed from Elena were lined up beside it like museum pieces. My heart thudded harder.

"Where is he?" I whispered, barely recognizing my voice. I was not sure if I meant the man or my mind. I did not know which one scared me more right now.

My phone blinked from the nightstand. Four missed calls. A text from my colleague. One word. Late. My hands flew to my hair. I was supposed to clock in thirty minutes ago. No excuse would fix this.

I rushed into my dress, stumbling over my own feet. My legs were jelly, my mouth dry. Lipstick smudged on my chin. I tried wiping it, but the fabric only made it worse. Of course it did.

I reached the lobby through the staff elevator, breathless and dizzy. I kept my head down. I hoped no one would notice me slipping in. But someone always noticed. Especially here. Especially today.

"Miss Hart," a sharp voice sliced through the air like a knife. I froze. Mr. Kellen, the assistant hotel manager, marched toward me with two security guards flanking him. "Come with us. Now."

I blinked. "I can explain. I was-" I stopped. What could I say? I lost track of time while doing what? Crying? Sleeping? Falling apart under satin sheets I did not belong in?

Kellen did not respond. He led me through the staff hallway, his jaw tight, eyes forward. I saw whispers ripple behind linen carts and turned backs. I heard the rustle of gossip in every corner.

We stopped outside the manager's office. I stepped inside. The room was small and quiet. A single envelope sat on the desk. Kellen nodded to it. "Your final check. Your badge has been deactivated."

I stared at him. "Wait. Fired? But I- I did not even clock in late that many times and-"

"This is not about lateness," he said. His voice was smooth, practiced. "This comes from the top. You are no longer employed here. We ask that you vacate the premises immediately."

"The top?" I repeated, my throat dry. "Who gave the order?"

He met my eyes for the first time. "That is not information I am authorized to share."

"But I have done nothing wrong!" I snapped. "I work hard. I clean rooms no one wants. I took the holiday shifts no one else-"

"Miss Hart," he interrupted, his tone cold. "This decision is final."

"At least tell me why," I whispered. "Please. I deserve that much."

He glanced at the guards. One of them stepped forward. I took a step back. My hands trembled. My pride burned in my chest, but I could not move. My feet would not cooperate.

"Do not make this more difficult," Kellen said, eyes flat. "Leave quietly. Or we will escort you through the guest lobby instead."

I swallowed hard. Every part of me screamed to shout, to demand fairness, to throw something. But I nodded. I clenched my fists. I would not let them see me cry. Not here.

I picked up the envelope with shaking fingers. One of the guards opened the door. The other waited behind me. We walked. Not through the service hall. Through the main floor.

Heads turned. I felt it like heat on my neck. Waiters, bellboys, guests. Some of them knew me. Some whispered. I caught one word as I passed. Maid. Another voice said something worse.

I kept my chin up. My cheeks burned. My palms were slick with sweat. My legs ached. But I kept walking. All the way to the revolving doors that never stopped spinning fast enough.

Outside, the city screamed with noise. Horns, voices, buses. I stood on the sidewalk in my wrinkled dress, holding an envelope like it held answers. It held silence. And shame.

I took out my phone. I stared at the screen. My reflection looked back at me through smudged glass. Red-rimmed eyes. Mascara clinging to lashes like forgotten promises. I called Nurse Daniels.

"Hello?"

"Camille," I said, voice shaking. "I... I just got fired. I do not know what happened. I just-"

"Where are you?" she asked instantly. Her voice was warm. Calm.

"Outside the hotel. I am still in the dress. I... I cannot go home like this."

"You can come to the clinic," she said. "We will figure this out together. Do not worry about anything else right now."

I nodded even though she could not see. "Okay."

"And Lila?"

"Yes?"

"You are not alone."

That was the worst part. I was. Deeply, clearly, painfully alone. I looked back at the hotel tower, glass gleaming in the sun like nothing had ever touched it. Like I had never even existed.

I started walking. My heels clicked on the sidewalk, loud and fake. I felt like someone else. Some other girl who did not fold towels for a living or cry into empty pillowcases at night.

My phone buzzed again. Unknown number. I let it ring. I could not hear one more thing I could not understand. I could not pretend to be strong for another single minute.

A voice mail appeared. I tapped it. My thumb hesitated. Then I pressed play.

The voice was low. Controlled. Male. Familiar in the worst way.

"Lila. You will report to me directly now. Come to the top floor. No questions."

My breath caught. My chest tightened. The line went dead.

And I knew exactly who it was.