My husband was going to have a corporate event reporting on the success of his team in one of the swankiest hotels in our city, complete with a grand event hall. He had been preparing for this presentation for two weeks, always returning home late.
On the day of the event, I was more anxious than he was. I made sure his shirt and suit were perfectly ironed and even cooked his favorite carbonara pasta for dinner. I saw him off with a kiss, wishing him luck.
But an hour later, while tidying up, I noticed he had left his laptop at home. His presentation was on that laptop! My heart sank. Not wanting his hard work to go to waste, I decided to take it to him at the hotel.
When I arrived, there was an eerie silence. Given the size of his company, I expected a bustling event, but the lobby was quiet.
I approached the receptionist and inquired about the corporate event. She looked puzzled and said there was no such event.
My confusion turned to suspicion, so I asked if there was a room reservation under my husband’s name. She checked and confirmed, giving me the room number.
Determined to uncover the truth, I headed upstairs. As I reached the floor, I heard giggles, whispers, and the unmistakable sound of kissing.
I peeked around the corner and saw my husband and my best friend, wrapped in each other’s arms, heading to the room. My heart shattered.
I quickly took a photo for evidence and hid, tears streaming down my face. This was the moment I decided they were going to pay.
So, I returned to the lobby, and with the receptionist’s sympathetic help, we devised a plan.
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I told the receptionist I wanted to “deliver” his laptop in the most memorable way possible. She grinned and offered to let me use the hotel’s internal announcement system — the one that could broadcast to the lobby, the elevators, and even the hallways.
I quickly pulled up his actual presentation file on the laptop — but instead of showing charts and sales numbers, I replaced the first few slides with the damning photos I had just taken.
The receptionist connected the laptop to the big screen in the main lounge, where a group of guests was relaxing. She then paged my husband over the intercom:
“Mr. Collins, please come to the main lounge. Your wife has delivered your presentation.”
It didn’t take long. Minutes later, the elevator doors opened — and out stepped my husband and my best friend, looking flustered but trying to compose themselves.
They walked toward the lounge, smiling… until they saw the giant screen.
The image of them embracing, lips locked, filled the room. Gasps and murmurs spread through the crowd. My husband froze mid-step, his face draining of color. My best friend’s hand dropped from his arm as if burned.
I stood there, right next to the laptop, arms crossed. “There’s your big presentation, sweetheart,” I said coldly.
The lounge erupted into whispers. One man even chuckled, shaking his head. My husband mumbled something incoherent, but I simply picked up my bag and walked out — leaving them to drown in their humiliation.
By the time I got home, my phone was buzzing with messages from mutual friends who had already heard about the “hotel incident.” It spread faster than wildfire.
That night, I slept like a baby. Sometimes, the sweetest revenge is served not just cold… but on a 12-foot projector screen.
Epilogue:
Within a week, my husband’s double life had cost him everything. His boss found out about the scandal — apparently, the hotel staff weren’t shy about telling the story to anyone who would listen — and he was quietly “let go” to avoid the company’s embarrassment.
My best friend? Her fiancé dumped her the very next day, after receiving the same photo I had projected for the hotel guests. She moved out of their apartment and straight into her parents’ house, where, according to a mutual acquaintance, she’s been “reevaluating her life choices.”
As for me, I filed for divorce immediately. With the evidence in hand, my lawyer assured me it would be quick, clean, and heavily in my favor.
I even kept the laptop — not for sentimental reasons, but as a reminder that secrets have a way of being broadcasted loud and clear… especially when karma gets the microphone.
And I’ll admit, sometimes, when I’m feeling down, I open that photo and smile. Because justice doesn’t always come knocking. Sometimes, you have to deliver it yourself — in 1080p HD.
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