Going Berserk Over a Hijacked Hotel Membership

Nyla, going along with him, kissed his forehead, then turned back to me with eyes as cold as ice.

"Get lost right now, or I'm calling the police!"

She turned and shouted sharply at Fiona, "Call security and have them throw this lunatic out! Who knows what dangerous things he might do next? What if he hurts the other guests?"

The crowd was fully stirred up now. "Hurry up and kick him out, or we'll lodge a complaint!"

Fiona didn't dare hesitate any longer and quickly called security over the walkie-talkie.

Two burly security guards immediately appeared, grabbed my arms from both sides, and dragged me toward the entrance.

I struggled desperately, my elbows aching from the scuffle.

In the chaos, Craig slipped quietly next to me at some point. Then, when no one was looking, he tripped me.

I was already off balance, so that easily sent me crashing hard to the floor.

"Oh dear," Craig exclaimed, feigning innocence. "Why are you trying to frame me? I was just trying to help you, yet you deliberately threw yourself onto the floor so you could blame me?"

My ankle swelled almost instantly, and my knee was badly scraped with blood seeping out. The pain made my face turn pale. I tried to stand up, but failed.

Nyla just stood there, watching coldly, as if I were a complete stranger.

In that moment, my heart turned completely cold. I no longer held any hope for her.

With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone, wanting to call for an ambulance. But I'd only just unlocked it when Nyla lunged forward and snatched it away.

"What are you trying to do? Call the police?" she lashed out first. "I'm telling you—we all saw exactly what happened. You threw yourself down on purpose. Don't even think about framing my husband or the hotel."

"I have a blood-clotting disorder. Call an ambulance now!" I shouted through the pain.

But Nyla didn't budge. Instead, she hurled my phone across the lobby.

Fiona, afraid of getting into trouble, hesitated and didn't move.

Completely alone, I could only endure the excruciating pain and try to crawl toward the phone using my uninjured leg for support.

Suddenly, a luxurious leather shoe stomped down hard on the back of my hand.

Craig looked down at me from above. "Sign a statement admitting that this was all your own fault, and I'll call you an ambulance. Otherwise…"

He pressed down even harder.

A searing pain shot through my hand. Mixed with the pain in my knee and ankle, I nearly passed out. I couldn't utter a word, and my whole body shook violently from both the pain and the rage. My vision began to blur.

Just when I thought I was about to pass out, rapid, heavy footsteps echoed from the hotel entrance. It was Uncle Eric striding toward us.

"Oy, nephew! I found it! That bitch Nyla really has been cheating on you!" he shouted. "She's booked rooms here more times than you have in the past few years. She even had the nerve to give your VIP card to that boy toy of hers! I'm going to skin her alive!"

Uncle Eric—the hotel's biggest investor—had walked in with several senior executives and security guards in tow.

But when he saw me kneeling on the floor in such a miserable state, his voice abruptly cut off.

Fiona, who had been so arrogant just moments ago, went completely pale. Trembling, she called out nervously, "Mr. Fuller… Sir…"