In the taxi heading to her apartment, Ayla sat frozen, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Her eyes were vacant, staring out the window, watching the world spin without being able to stop the roar in her chest.
Her breath was heavy. Behind her eyelids, the image of the man's body continued to haunt her. The image of a body that felt both foreign and hauntingly real last night.
"I was drunk. I didn't even realize what I was doing," she whispered to herself.
She bit her lip hard, trying to hold back the tears that once again filled her eyes.
No! She couldn't break down. It was just a mistake. A one-night mistake that she would never admit to anyone, not until she died.
Shaking, Ayla wiped her tears and took a deep breath. When the taxi stopped, she handed over the money with trembling hands and stepped out, letting the cold morning freeze the guilt inside her.
From this day on, Ayla Winters would pretend that night never happened. But deep in her heart, she knew the wound had already been created. And only time would show how deep its scar would be.
Meanwhile, Ethan Calloway sat behind his desk, his shoulders tense, his eyes empty as he stared at the cityscape from the high-rise office window. This morning felt heavy, like a great burden that couldn't be ignored.
The flashes of that night still lingered in his mind. The scent of alcohol, the warm body that welcomed him, and the thick fog in his thoughts. It all felt real, yet still blurry.
He exhaled deeply and pressed the intercom button. "Connor, come to my office now."
It didn't take long for his personal secretary to enter, holding a tablet and notepad, ready to take orders. Seeing Connor standing and waiting, Ethan looked up, his face harder than usual.
"I need your help," he said in a deep voice. "Last night, something happened. I was with a woman. But she wasn't my wife."
Connor held his breath, remaining professional even though his heart fluttered slightly.
"I can barely remember anything," Ethan continued, his voice growing colder. "I thought I was back in my hotel room. I thought she was my wife. But she wasn't."
He rubbed his face with both hands, frustration creeping in. "All I remember is the door to my room being slightly open. I went in. My head and body were hot, I lost control," Ethan spoke slowly. "And this morning, when I woke up, she was gone."
Connor listened without interrupting. "I need you to find out," Ethan's gaze turned sharp as he looked at his secretary. "Who was that woman? Why was she in my room? Who let her in?"
Connor quickly took notes, his expression neutral.
"And one more thing," Ethan continued, his voice now more threatening. "Make sure none of this leaks to anyone. Not a single person, not even my wife. Find that woman and make sure she keeps quiet. Warn her if necessary."
Connor nodded once, firmly. "Understood, Sir. I'll handle it right away."
"Good," muttered Ethan before glancing back at the window, his mind in turmoil.
Meanwhile, in Ayla's apartment, she sat at the edge of her bed, her hands wrapped around her knees. This morning, she woke up with a feeling of disgust for herself. The small bruises on her skin, the faint scent of an unfamiliar perfume still lingering in her nose, were all brutal reminders of her foolishness the night before.
She took a deep breath, trying to push away the wave of nausea. Fuzzy memories of the party, the drinks forced into her throat, Sienna leading her to a room, and then... nothingness.
Ayla squeezed her eyes shut tightly. She wanted to believe nothing happened. But her body felt strange, and the pain in several parts of her body was undeniable evidence. She didn't know who the man was. She only vaguely remembered a tall figure with dark brown hair, and a hoarse, deep voice that had whispered in her ear.
Ayla's eyes heated with anger. She cursed herself. Why hadn't she been more careful? Why had she let her guard down?
Connor stood rigidly in front of Ethan Calloway's desk, holding back the tension that almost suffocated the large office space. In his hand, he held a thin file and a small black flash drive. The preliminary report was finished, but the contents were far more complicated than he had anticipated.
"Mr. Calloway," Connor said quickly, his voice trembling slightly. "I've gathered some information. The woman's name is Dr. Ayla Winters. She was invited as a guest of honor for the medical charity event last night."
Ethan raised his head from the documents on his desk, staring sharply at Connor. The name sounded unfamiliar to him. He furrowed his brow, waiting for Connor to continue.
"She's a young, talented doctor with an excellent reputation. No criminal record, no scandals, almost no flaws in her professional track record," Connor continued quickly, as if wanting to get to the hardest part of the report. "But, Sir..." Connor took a deep breath. "From the CCTV footage, it seems it wasn't her who entered your room, but you who entered hers."
The room instantly froze. The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Ethan leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Connor carefully placed the flash drive on the desk, slowly pushing it toward Ethan. "Your body at that time seemed unstable, either from alcohol or something else. From the CCTV footage, it shows you pushing open a door that happened to be slightly ajar. Dr. Ayla was already in the room, seemingly half-conscious. There's no sign that she noticed you were there," Connor explained carefully.
Ethan tapped his fingers slowly on the table, once, twice. The sound echoed in the silence that filled the room. Finally, in a cold, pressured voice, he muttered, "How could the door have been unlocked in a hotel of that caliber?"
Connor quickly continued before the tension in the room grew thicker. "After I investigated, the last person seen with Dr. Ayla before the incident was Dr. Sienna Blake, her colleague," he said quickly. "From the CCTV footage, Dr. Sienna was seen helping Dr. Ayla, who was already drunk. Several times, Dr. Ayla almost fell because Dr. Sienna herself appeared unsteady while assisting her."
Ethan leaned his elbows on the desk, clasping his fingers in front of his face. His gaze was dark, his mind racing. A trap? And he had unwittingly been dragged into this dirty game?