SCANDAL IN HIS BED

A shrill scream tore through the quiet of the morning.

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?!”

Dianne’s eyes snapped open to see a tall, broad-shouldered man sprawled beside her. Panic surged through her veins like wildfire. For a heartbeat, her mind went blank… and then the horrifying thought hit her.

Did we…? Did we have sex?

Her stomach twisted, bile rising. She bolted upright, fumbling for the sheets. The clock on the nightstand glared at her: 9:12 a.m.

Today’s supposed to be my wedding!

Her mind screamed as her heart pounded. Dianne yanked on the sheets and scrambled out of bed, her wedding dress long forgotten on the other side of the room.

The man, still half-naked, sat up slowly, a slow smirk crawling across his face. “Finally awake, huh?” His voice was low, dangerous, laced with amusement.

“What… who… you—” Dianne stammered, eyes wide, hands trembling.

“You?” he gestured vaguely at her, “You just jump into bed with strangers now? Typical…” His smirk widened. “I thought you were one of those…”

Dianne froze, shock washing over her like ice water. “A… a sex worker?” Her voice was barely a whisper, disbelief and fury mixing into a potent cocktail.

He leaned back lazily, unbothered. “You’ve got a type, don’t you? Flirty, reckless… no boundaries.”

No… this can’t be happening. Not today… Her pulse raced as she tore herself away, desperate to get out. She needed air. She needed to think. And she needed to avoid this man — and everyone else — until she could figure out how to fix the catastrophe that was now her life.

Slipping into the bathroom, she splashed her face with icy water, her reflection staring back at her like a stranger. Her skin burned with embarrassment, her hair stuck to her forehead, and her hands shook as she tried to calm down.

Focus, Dianne. Focus. Wedding. Damian. Don’t let this ruin everything.

She wiped her face, fixed her makeup in a shaky blur, and dashed out of the room, only to freeze at the sight in the hallway.

There he was — Damian, her fiancé, sharp suit perfectly tailored, eyes blazing with fury.

Before she could even breathe a word, the man from her bed, Roy, stepped out behind her with that infuriating smirk, clearly enjoying every second.

Damian’s gaze snapped to her. Rage burned in his eyes. “You—” he hissed, his hand slapping her across the face before she could even react. “I can’t… I can’t do this!”

Her cheek stung, tears instantly prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Damian, wait! I—” She ran after him, her heels clicking like warning bells in the marble corridor. “Please, just listen to me! I swear, I—”

But he didn’t stop. He stormed past, pulling his car keys from his pocket with a tense jerk, and vanished into the morning light, leaving her standing there, breathless, humiliated, and completely shattered.

What just happened? My wedding… my life… ruined in one .

Damian, please!” Dianne’s voice cracked as she sprinted after him, her bare feet slapping against the polished hotel floor. Her heart hammered in her chest, her wedding robe fluttering behind her like a broken veil.

He didn’t stop.

“Damian, listen to me! It’s not what you think!”

Her words barely reached him over the pounding in her ears. He yanked open the lobby doors, fury radiating from him like heat. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders rigid — the composed, charming man she was supposed to marry had vanished, replaced by a storm she couldn’t calm.

“Don’t you dare follow me, Dianne!” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to slice through the air.

She stumbled after him anyway, desperate. “I woke up — I don’t even know how I ended up there! Damian, please, I swear I didn’t—”

He turned, eyes blazing. “You woke up in another man’s bed, Dianne! What exactly am I supposed to believe? That you tripped and fell into him?”

Tears blurred her vision. “I love you,” she whispered. “Please, don’t do this. Just… let me explain.”

But he was past reason. His hands trembled as he started the car, the engine roaring to life.

“Don’t make this worse, Dianne. You’ve humiliated me enough.”

She reached for the door, voice breaking. “Damian, don’t go—”

He slammed the car into reverse. The tires screeched, and for one terrifying second, the car jerked toward her. She stumbled back with a gasp, her heart stopping in her chest. He hit the brakes—hard—just inches away.

Damian’s face was pale, furious… but beneath it, there was pain. He looked at her one last time — eyes filled with betrayal — then drove off, leaving her standing in the parking lot, shaking, mascara streaking down her cheeks.

Her knees gave way. She dropped to the ground, sobbing.

How did everything go so wrong?

Just hours ago, she was supposed to be a bride. Now she was the headline scandal of London’s social elite.

By the time she made it home, the damage was already spreading like wildfire. Her phone buzzed nonstop — messages, missed calls, notifications. The blogs had it all: “Socialite Bride Found in Another Man’s Bed Hours Before Wedding”.

Her picture was everywhere — her tear-streaked face, Damian’s furious exit, even Roy’s smug smirk captured in a blurry photo outside the hotel.

Dianne tossed her phone across the room and sank onto the couch. The silence of her apartment pressed down on her like a weight. Her chest ached. Her throat burned.

She grabbed a bottle from the counter — whiskey. Damian’s favorite. She poured it into a glass, then another, then stopped bothering with the glass altogether.

The first sip burned. The second numbed. The third… made her forget.

Tears slipped down her face as she stared at the wall, trying to remember. Trying to force the memories of that night to come back. But her mind was a fog. A blur of flashing lights, laughter, music, and then— nothing.

“What happened?” she whispered to the empty room. “What did I do?”

She pressed her palms against her eyes, trembling. The more she tried to recall, the darker it got. Roy’s face flickered in her memory — the curve of that cruel smirk — but nothing else made sense.

Finally, the alcohol dragged her under. She slumped against the couch, the bottle still in her hand, her wedding ring glinting faintly from where it lay discarded on the floor.

And as she drifted into uneasy sleep, one thought echoed in her mind —

My life is over.