The hallway of the five-star resort was silent, save for the rhythmic humming of the ice machine. Under the dim golden lights, Christy Williams stood fuming, her face a mask of annoyance as she felt a heavy hand drop onto her shoulder. She spun around, ready to unleash her temper, only to find a man in a crisp white serving jacket holding a silver tray.

"You shouldn't be here, ma'am," he said, his voice smooth but laced with a teasing edge. "This is a restricted area."

Christy scoffed, trying to regain her dignity. "I... I got lost."

The man laughed, leaning against the wall. "You seriously seem like you were eavesdropping on that group over there," he said, gesturing toward the garden where Roman’s team had been sitting. "No wonder your father doesn't trust you. How did he even give you this project if you can’t even hide behind a bush properly?"

Christy’s eyes narrowed. The realization hit her like a lightning bolt. "Excuse me? I asked for backup, and my father sent a waiter to watch me? Watch your mouth when you speak to me."

"I’m Blake," he said, straightening his tie. "And I’m not just a waiter. I joined the catering contract for tonight's party just to meet you. I can only stay in this resort tonight, so let’s make it count."

"Fine," Christy hissed. "You're just in time. I have a plan. But since you're the backup, stay away from the front lines."

"No problem," Blake smirked. "I have a past with Roman Blackwood. If he sees me, the game is over instantly. I'll stay in the backend."

"Good. Roman just went to the bar. Follow him and check what he’s doing. I’m going to get a duplicate key for his room. Update me on the phone."

By 10:30 PM, the atmosphere in the hotel bar was sophisticated and low-key. Roman sat at a corner booth, nursing a single glass of Scotch. He wasn't "getting wasted" as he’d told the others; he was merely reflecting on the month of madness ahead.

His phone vibrated. It was Owen.

"Roman? Sorry to bother you on our 'night off,'" Owen’s voice sounded muffled. "The security at the site just called. The main server in the R&D wing isn't shutting down correctly. It’s a ghost in the machine."

Roman sighed, rubbing his eyes. "No problem, Owen. I’ll head over now and check the manual override. Tell the driver to drop me back at the hotel by 11:30 PM. He can leave after that."

Blake, standing nearby with a tray of empty glasses, caught every word. He quickly tapped out a message to Christy: Target leaving for the office. Will be back at 11:30 PM.

Christy’s reply was instant: Perfect. I go in at 11:00 PM for the setup.

At 10:40 PM, the heavy mahogany door to Roman’s suite creaked open. Two silhouettes slipped inside, carrying a small bag.

"Switch on your phone light," a feminine whisper hissed. It was Claire.

"I can’t see the nightstand," Sebastian muttered back. He clicked on a small lamp, casting a dim, cozy glow over the room.

Claire whispered, 'Roman isn’t going to fire us for breaking into his suite, right?' Sebastian looked around the luxury room nervously. 'I certainly hope not,' he replied—but his heart nearly stopped when the distinct click of the door handle echoed through the room.

Suddenly, the sound of a key card swiping made them both freeze.

"Someone’s coming!" Sebastian grabbed Claire’s arm and hauled her toward the massive walk-in wardrobe. They scrambled inside, pulling the door shut just as the lights flickered.

From the tiny gap in the wardrobe door, they watched two more figures enter. It was Julian and Sophie.

Sophie tossed her purse onto the bed. "Claire said she’d meet us here at 10:45 PM. She’s late."

"Maybe she got cold feet about breaking into the boss's room," Julian joked. He leaned against the wardrobe door—the very door Claire and Sebastian were hiding behind.

Inside the dark closet, Sebastian’s heart was racing. His body was pressed firmly against Claire’s in the cramped space. He looked down at her, the romantic tension suddenly overshadowing the fear of being caught. He leaned in and kissed her passionately.

Squeak. Hiss.

"Did you hear that?" Julian asked, spinning around. "It sounds like... rats?"

"In a five-star resort?" Sophie frowned. She marched over to the wardrobe and yanked it open.

Claire and Sebastian tumbled out, looking flushed and guilty. Sophie shrieked in surprise, losing her balance and falling backward onto the king-sized bed.

"You guys!" Sophie gasped as Julian helped her up. "You should have given us a heads-up instead of having a private wardrobe session!"

Claire straightened her dress, laughing breathlessly. "We were here first!"

Swipe. Click.

The door opened again.

"Hide!" Julian hissed. "The wardrobe is too small for four!"

"The dressing room!" Sophie pointed to the sliding glass doors near the bathroom. All four of them scrambled behind the frosted glass, holding their breath.

A moment later, Macy walked in. She looked around the empty room, confused. She pulled out her phone and dialed Claire.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The sound erupted from behind the dressing room door. Macy’s head whipped around. "Claire?"

Macy’s eyes locked onto the dressing room door. From the shadows, Sophie hissed at Claire, 'I told you to silence that thing!' Claire offered a sheepish 'sorry' as the four of them shuffled out into the light. Macy just folded her arms, checking her watch. 'Glad you could join us. It’s 11:00 PM—so, what’s the game plan? When do we actually start?

 "We didn't think he'd be back until—"

Swipe. Click.

"Hide! Hide now!" Sebastian whispered. "Roman is not supposed to be here yet!"

All five of them—Macy, Claire, Sebastian, Julian, and Sophie—dived back into the dressing room, cramming themselves into the corners. They peered through the frosted gap, expecting to see a tired Roman.

Instead, they saw Christy.

The group shared a collective look of horror. Christy was wearing a triumphant, predatory smile. She looked around the room like she’d already won a war.

"Finally," Christy whispered to herself. "Roman is going to be mine. Once the pictures are taken, he won't be able to deny that he slept with me."

To the absolute shock of the five hidden observers, Christy began to unzipper her designer dress. She let it fall to the floor and quickly wrapped herself in the heavy white duvet from Roman’s bed, making it look like she’d been sleeping there.

Macy’s face turned a violent shade of red. She made a move to burst out and tackle her, but Sophie clamped a hand over Macy’s mouth, shaking her head vigorously. Wait, Sophie gestured. Let’s see what she does.

Christy’s eyes landed on something on the nightstand. "Oh? What’s this?" She picked up a delicate gold chain. "Looks like a girl's chain. He probably bought this for that pathetic PA. Well, it belongs to me now."

Christy fastened the chain around her own neck.

In the dressing room, Sophie’s eyes went wide. she frantically touched her own neck. Her chain was missing—it must have fallen off during the "wardrobe tumble." She turned to Julian and pointed at Christy, then at her neck, her face contorted in silent rage.

Swipe. Click.

The room went dark. Christy had reached out and killed the lights, diving onto the far side of the bed and burying herself under the covers.

The door opened. Heavy footsteps entered. The person sounded exhausted. It was Roman.

He didn't even turn on the main lights, just the dim entryway lamp. He kicked off his shoes, groaning. "What a night," he muttered.

He walked toward the bed, ready to collapse. But as he reached for the covers, he stopped. His "CEO intuition"—or perhaps just the smell of Christy’s overbearing perfume—kicked in.

"What the...?" Roman murmured. He reached over and slammed the master light switch.

The room flooded with brightness.

Roman froze. He stared at the bed, where a duvet-clad Christy was smiling up at him with feigned shyness.