The Viral Takedown

My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a jackhammer was going off somewhere inside my skull. My mouth was so dry, it felt like I’d swallowed a handful of sand. For a few seconds, I was just floating in a confusing, groggy haze. Then, like a flood of ice water, pieces of last night crashed back into my brain.

The party. Hailey’s fake-sweet smile. That pink drink. The way the room started spinning. The dark suite. And the terrifying, gut-wrenching realization that I hadn’t been alone.

My eyes shot open. Panic, sharp and suffocating, choked me.

I was in a huge, unfamiliar bed. The sheets smelled like stale booze and some guy’s cologne – definitely not Dylan’s. Sunlight, way too bright, was slicing through a gap in the blackout curtains, making my head throb even harder. This wasn't my bedroom. This was one of the guest suites downstairs.

And I was alone.

Relief washed over me, so strong it almost made me cry. But it was quickly followed by a new wave of fear. What had happened? I scrambled out of bed, my head pounding, my legs shaky. The blue dress Hailey had made me wear was a wrinkled mess. I felt disgusting, like I needed to shower for a week.

My memory was a blur. I remembered Hailey guiding me here, her voice like a poisoned lullaby. I remembered the absolute terror when I realized someone else was in the room. After that? Nothing. Just a black hole where my memory should have been.

I felt sick to my stomach. I stumbled into the attached bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my head, trying not to puke. The reflection in the mirror was a horror show. My eyes were red and puffy, with dark circles like bruises underneath. My makeup was smudged, my hair looked like a bird’s nest. I looked… violated.

What had Hailey done to me? That drink… it wasn’t just some “special mocktail.” She’d drugged me. My own sister. The thought hit me like a physical blow. But why? Why would she do something so twisted, so cruel?

My first instinct was to run. To find Hailey, to scream at her, to demand to know what the hell she thought she was doing. But a more urgent, practical thought cut through the panic: I had to get out of this suite before anyone saw me.

My clutch was on the nightstand. My phone was inside. I grabbed it – no new messages, no missed calls. It was still early, just after seven AM. The party must have ended hours ago.

My hands were shaking as I tried to smooth down my dress, to somehow fix my hair, but it was useless. I looked like I’d been through a war. All I wanted was to get back to my own room, lock the door, and try to figure out what happened.

Taking a deep breath, I cracked open the suite door and peeked out. The hallway was empty. Silent. Thank God. I slipped out, pulling the door gently shut behind me, and practically sprinted towards the elevator, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I made it back to our family’s part of the penthouse without seeing a soul. My bedroom felt like the only safe place on earth. I locked the door, tore off the hideous blue dress like it was on fire, and jumped into the shower, scrubbing my skin until it was raw, trying to wash away the feeling of being tricked, of being… used.

But the questions wouldn’t stop. Who was the guy in that room? What happened after I passed out? The thought made bile rise in my throat.

After showering and changing into my oldest, baggiest sweats, I sat on my bed, my mind racing. I had to confront Hailey. I needed answers. But a huge part of me was terrified of what those answers might be.

A sharp knock on my door made me jump a foot. “Skye? You up, sleepyhead?” It was Mom’s voice, overly bright and businesslike. “Everyone’s having brunch on the main terrace. Hailey’s got some big news, apparently.”

Big news? My blood turned to ice. This couldn't be good.

Reluctantly, I headed out. The main terrace was already buzzing. Staff were clearing away the last remnants of the party. Most of the overnight guests – our parents’ rich friends and their equally spoiled kids – were there, sipping mimosas and looking like they’d barely slept.

Hailey was, as always, the star of the show. She looked perfect, of course, in a cute designer sundress, Dylan standing dutifully by her side. He looked tired, but he offered me a small, hesitant smile when I walked over. Mom gave me a critical once-over. “Skye, finally. Feeling better? Hailey mentioned you weren’t yourself last night.”

Before I could even open my mouth, Hailey clapped her hands together, her diamond rings flashing. “Okay, everyone! Gather ‘round, gather ‘round!” Her voice was high-pitched and excited. “I have some seriously juicy gossip to share!”

A hush fell. My stomach clenched. This was it.

Hailey’s eyes, sparkling with a mean, triumphant light I’d never seen so clearly before, zeroed in on me. “It seems my dear older sister, Skye, had a verrrry interesting night.”

I couldn’t breathe. What was she doing?

“While the rest of us were, you know, celebrating my engagement to Dylan,” Hailey continued, her voice dripping with fake concern, “it looks like Skye was… networking. Hard. In one of the guest suites.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Every single eye on that terrace swung towards me. I felt my face burn. This was a nightmare.

“Now, I’m not usually one to air dirty laundry,” Hailey said, pressing a hand to her chest dramatically, “but when it happens right under our roof, at my engagement party… well, I just thought you all should know what kind of person Skye really is.”

She held up her phone, angling the screen so everyone could see. “And look! Someone from the hotel staff, bless their observant heart, sent me this little gem this morning.”

On her phone screen, big and clear, was a photo. A slightly blurry, obviously candid shot of me, looking like a total wreck, sneaking out of that guest suite door earlier. It was the ultimate walk-of-shame pic.

My mind spun. Hotel staff? No way. This was Hailey. The drugged drink, the room, the photo… it was all her. A perfectly executed takedown.

“Even when her own sister is having the biggest night of her life,” Hailey’s voice was thick with fake sadness, “Skye just has to be the center of attention. With some random guy. It’s just… so trashy.”

The whispers started instantly, like a swarm of angry bees. People were staring at me with open disgust, with pity, with judgment. I wanted to scream, to tell them it wasn’t true, but my throat was closed tight. I was too shocked, too horrified.

Then, Mom stepped forward. Her face was like stone, cold and furious. She didn’t say a word. She just lifted her hand and slapped me. Hard. Across the face.

The crack echoed in the sudden, awful silence. My cheek throbbed. Tears welled up in my eyes, more from the shock and the absolute humiliation than the pain.

“How could you?” Mom hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “How could you embarrass this family like this? After everything we’ve given you?”

Dylan just stood there, next to Hailey, his face a mess of shock and… disappointment. That look from him, that silent judgment, hurt more than the slap, more than anything. He believed Hailey. They all did.

Hailey watched it all, her eyes gleaming with pure, nasty triumph. She’d done it. She’d destroyed me. Publicly. And I’d walked right into her trap.

Just as I felt myself about to shatter, to completely lose it in front of everyone, a new voice cut through the charged silence. A voice I’d never heard before. Deep, calm, and radiating power.

“Excuse me. I think I might be able to clarify a few things here.”