On my wedding night, I decided—on a whim—to hide under the bed and surprise my new husband, Daniel. After weeks of exhausting planning, the idea of pulling a silly prank felt like the perfect tension release. He had gone downstairs to pick up a package the hotel staff said had arrived for us, giving me the perfect chance to crawl beneath the frame, biting my lip to keep from giggling at the thought of his confused reaction.
But the door didn’t open for Daniel.
A soft click of the lock, and the sharp rhythm of heels entered the room. A woman. Her perfume drifted toward me—familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
She set something on the nightstand: her phone, which she put on speaker.
