WRONG ROOM

The worst day of Marilyn Oxford’s life began on her twenty-first birthday. She had walked into her boyfriend, Simon Hayes’s apartment carrying a small gift bag and wearing black lace lingerie beneath her clothes. She had spent weeks imagining this moment. Tonight, she had planned to give him her virginity. Three years of dating, three years of waiting, and today was supposed to be the day it finally felt right.

Just as she reached his bedroom.

The music from the bedroom thumped through the thin walls. Marilyn pushed the door open and froze. Across Simon’s body, Joyce — a girl Marilyn knew too well from campus — moved slowly on top of him, laughing breathlessly. Megan, another girl she vaguely recognized from class, knelt beside them, kissing his neck while his hands roamed freely.

The small gift bag slipped from Marilyn’s fingers and landed softly on the carpet. Inside was his favorite cologne and a handwritten card that read, ‘Tonight is ours.’

For several painful seconds, no one noticed her standing there.

Simon finally lifted his head. When his eyes met hers, a lazy smirk spread across his face. “Marilyn? You’re here sooner than I expected.”

Her throat tightened. “Today’s my birthday,” she whispered.

Simon chuckled. “I know, baby.”

The word ‘baby’ felt like a slap. The same nickname he had used when he held her and promised she was special.

“Come join us,” he added casually. “Maybe you’ll finally loosen up.”

Joyce laughed softly without even bothering to stop moving. Megan barely glanced at her.

Her legs wobbled, she felt disgusted. Her boyfriend was a depraved, shameless degenerate with no ounce of shame left in him.

Marilyn’s chest ached. “Is that all I am to you?” Her voice cracked.

Simon shrugged, still buried inside Joyce. “You’ve been holding out for three years. What did you expect?”

The words cut deep. She had not been holding out. She had been waiting because she trusted him. Because she believed love was supposed to mean something.

Megan glanced at the phone propped on the nightstand. “Simon… we’re still live.”

‘Live.’

Marilyn’s stomach dropped. The phone screen showed a red recording light and scrolling comments from strangers. They were streaming this. People were watching.

Simon rolled his eyes. “Relax. She’ll leave. She always does.”

Something inside Marilyn finally snapped. She straightened her shoulders, refusing to cry in front of these immoral people.

“You’re disgusting,” she said quietly.

She turned and walked out without slamming the door. The sound of their laughter followed her down the hallway, past the kitchen where they had cooked pancakes together, past the couch where they had fallen asleep watching movies. Three years of memories now felt like complete lies.

***

By the time Marilyn reached the surprise birthday party her friends had planned, her eyes were red and swollen. Sia and Naomi took one look at her and pulled her into a quiet corner of the apartment.

“Marilyn, what happened?” Sia asked, concern written all over her face.

Naomi handed her a glass of water. “You look like you’ve been crying. Talk to us.”

Marilyn sat down on the edge of the couch and told them everything. Her plans with the black lace lingerie. The gift bag. Walking in on Simon with Joyce and Megan. The live stream. The cruel way he had laughed at her.

Sia’s mouth fell open. “He did what? On your birthday? That bastard!”

Naomi looked furious. “I never liked him. I always said he was too smooth, too fake. Three years, Marilyn. Three years and he does this? He doesn’t deserve a single tear from you.”

“I feel so stupid,” Marilyn whispered, wiping her eyes. “I thought he loved me. I was finally ready to sleep with him today. I even bought new lingerie. And he was… he was inside someone else while strangers watched.”

Sia pulled her into a tight hug. “He’s trash, babe. Absolute trash. You deserve so much better than that cheating, low-life asshole.”

Naomi nodded. “Exactly. Tonight is still your night. Don’t let him take that from you. You’re twenty-one. You’re beautiful, smart, and way too good for Simon Hayes.”

The girls talked for almost an hour. They cursed Simon, laughed at how pathetic he looked getting caught, and reminded Marilyn of all the times he had been selfish. Slowly, the pain in her chest began to shift into something else — anger, and then a reckless kind of freedom.

After they cut her birthday cake and she had a few strong drinks, Marilyn felt the alcohol warm her veins. She looked at her friends with glassy eyes and made a bold decision.

“I don’t want to be the virgin who got cheated on anymore,” she said. “I want to be with a real man tonight. Someone who knows what he’s doing. Someone who makes me forget Simon ever existed.”

Sia and Naomi exchanged surprised looks, but they didn’t try to stop her. “If that’s what you want,” Sia said, squeezing her hand, “then we’ve got you.”

Naomi already had her phone out. “We’ll book a nice hotel suite and get you the hottest escort in this city. No strings. Just one night to feel good and move on.”

Marilyn agreed, a dangerous smile forming on her lips. “Yes. Tonight, I’m letting go.”

***

Meanwhile, across the city, Raymond Stewart had just arrived in town after a long overseas trip. The powerful billionaire rarely stayed anywhere long. His life revolved around deals, power, and control. After losing his wife five years ago, he had sworn off relationships. He only used high-end escort services when he needed release, never the same woman twice.

That evening, he checked into the luxury hotel suite his assistant had booked and made a single call. The agency confirmed a woman would arrive shortly.

By the time Marilyn reached the hotel, she was tipsy and determined. At the front desk, she gave her name. Another woman arrived at the same time for a different reservation. When the manager placed two key cards on the counter, Marilyn, impatient and slightly unsteady, grabbed one and headed straight for the elevator.

She found the suite number, swiped the card, and pushed the door open. A tall, broad-shouldered man had just stepped out of the bathroom. His dark hair was damp from the shower, and a white towel hung low on his hips. He looked older — late thirties — and dangerously handsome. Commanding, and powerful.

Marilyn smirked. ‘The older, the more experienced.’

What happened that night was everything she had hoped for and more. Raymond touched her like he knew exactly what her body needed. For the first time in her life, Marilyn felt completely desired. The pleasure he gave her left her shaking and breathless.

The next morning, before he woke up, she slipped out of bed. On the nightstand, she left five crisp hundred-dollar bills and a short note.

“The sex was good, Mr. Handsome. But let’s not meet again.”

When Raymond woke up later, his eyes landed on the money and the note. For a long moment, he simply stared at it. Then he picked up the note and read it again. His jaw tightened, and his expression darkened with cold fury.

No woman had ever dared disrespect him this way. Slowly, he folded the note and gathered the bills. Whoever she was, he would find her.

And when he did, she would regret humiliating him.