Chapter 166: This Room Has a Better Life Than Me

Chapter 166: This Room Has a Better Life Than Me


The moment I stepped into my hotel room, I stopped dead in the doorway. I had expected a nice room. Maybe a comfortable bed, a decent bathroom, and a television that required seventeen buttons to turn on. I had not expected to walk into what looked like a luxury apartment belonging to someone who had never once checked the price of anything. My eyes moved slowly around the room, taking in the enormous bed, the elegant furniture, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the soft lighting, and the sitting area that was larger than my entire living room. There was even a little table near the window that looked like it had been placed there specifically for people who enjoyed drinking expensive things while staring dramatically into the distance. I closed the door behind me and stared. "Oh." That was all my vocabulary could produce. Then I dropped my backpack on the floor, walked straight to the bed, and threw myself onto it. I sank into the mattress so deeply that for one terrifying second I wondered if the hotel had designed it to swallow guests who didn't belong there. I bounced once and immediately spread my arms across the bed. "I'm staying." I announced it to the empty room. "I live here now." Nobody argued, which I took as official approval. I turned my head toward the ceiling and sighed happily. "Maybe Scotland isn't so bad." I paused. "Actually, if every country comes with a bed like this, I'm prepared to become an international citizen." I closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the softness beneath me, before remembering that I had apparently traveled across an ocean with enough luggage to open a small clothing store.

I reluctantly sat up and looked toward my suitcases. Three of them stood near the door like three judgmental relatives waiting for me to explain myself. "Don't look at me like that," I told them. "You were necessary." The largest suitcase seemed particularly offended. I walked over and opened it, only to discover that I had packed clothes for approximately six different versions of myself. There were sweaters, dresses, coats, shoes, scarves, and at least three outfits I had packed because I thought, Maybe I'll need this. I stared at one of the dresses. "For what exactly?" I asked myself. "A royal dinner?" I pulled out another sweater. "And this?" Another dress. "Why?" I suddenly remembered my reasoning from New York. Scotland was unpredictable. Weather could change. Plans could change. My mood could change. Apparently, my packing strategy had been to prepare for the collapse of civilization. I started putting clothes into the wardrobe, trying to be organized, but within five minutes I had somehow created a pile on the chair, another pile on the bed, and one mysterious sock on the floor that I had no memory of bringing. I stared at it suspiciously. "How did you get here?" The sock offered no explanation. Typical. I picked it up and threw it into the drawer before opening my second suitcase. This one contained shoes. Too many shoes. I stared at them in silence. "I could have packed less." I whispered. Then I shook my head. "No. That's negative thinking. Future Liela will need these." Future Liela, unfortunately, had never once appreciated the decisions made by Present Liela.

By the time I opened the third suitcase, I had reached the stage of unpacking where I was no longer organizing anything. I was simply moving objects from one place to another and hoping they would eventually develop their own storage system. I pulled out my toiletries, placed them in the bathroom, and immediately stopped when I saw the bathroom itself. I slowly walked in and stared at the enormous mirror, the spotless counter, and the bathtub that looked large enough to host a small swimming competition. "Oh, this is ridiculous." I touched the edge of the counter. Everything looked expensive. Even the soap looked like it had a better career than me. I picked it up and examined it. "You're fancy." I put it back carefully. "I don't want to get attached." I returned to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, looking around again. The room was quiet, beautiful, and so comfortable that I could already feel my responsibilities slipping away. For one dangerous moment, I considered staying here for the entire week and telling everyone I had tragically become one with the mattress.

Suddenly, my phone started ringing, and of course, it was Elliot. I stared at his name on the screen as if my phone had just announced my execution date. "Oh, no." I looked around the room. The giant bed. The expensive furniture. The enormous windows. The fancy sitting area. Everything behind me was practically shouting, She is definitely not at home. My hair was still a mess from the flight, my clothes were wrinkled, and I looked like someone who had been through twelve hours of travel and several questionable food decisions. Elliot was going to see my face and immediately know something was wrong. The phone kept ringing. "Why are you calling me now?" I whispered, even though he obviously couldn't hear me. Then I remembered the more important question. Why didn't you call him first, genius? I had promised myself I would call Elliot after landing, and instead I had spent my first fifteen minutes in Scotland throwing myself onto a bed and admiring soap. Excellent priorities, Liela. Truly impressive. 

The phone continued ringing. "No, no, no." I looked around the room as if someone else might answer it for me. The room was huge, luxurious, and very clearly not Aunt Helena's modest hotel room. My hair was a disaster after the flight, my clothes were wrinkled, and I had absolutely no time to transform myself into a believable liar. The phone kept ringing. "Pick up," I whispered to myself. "If you don't pick up, he'll know something is wrong." I stopped. "Actually, if I do pick up, he'll probably know something is wrong." Wonderful. There was no winning. I grabbed the phone and suddenly remembered the background. I looked behind me. The enormous bed was practically screaming, Billionaire hotel! The elegant sofa was also suspicious. The giant windows were suspicious. The expensive-looking lamps were suspicious. Even the curtains looked suspicious. "Why does everything in this room look guilty?" I muttered.

I immediately went into emergency mode. I grabbed one of the decorative pillows and shoved it in front of the camera. Then I realized the pillow wasn't going to hide an entire hotel room. I dragged the curtains closed so quickly that I nearly pulled the entire curtain rod down. "Stay," I hissed at it. "Please cooperate. We are both trying to survive." I moved the chair in front of the bed, then realized that made the room look even stranger. I dragged it back. Then I picked up my suitcase and shoved it into the bathroom. I stopped halfway through the doorway. "Why am I hiding my suitcase?" I whispered. "He's not the police." I thought about Elliot. "Actually, he might as well be." I hurried back and grabbed the decorative pillows from the bed, stacking them in front of the camera as though Elliot wouldn't immediately recognize that I was sitting in a room with enough pillows to furnish an entire furniture store. My phone continued ringing. "Okay. Normal. Be normal." I took one deep breath, quickly ran my fingers through my hair, which accomplished absolutely nothing, and answered the call.

Elliot's face appeared on my screen, and before I could even say hello, his eyes narrowed. I smiled. "Hi!" My voice came out approximately three octaves higher than normal. Elliot stared at me. "Where are you?" I blinked. "Where am I?" "Yes, Liela. That's generally how the question works." I laughed nervously. "I'm somewhere." He didn't smile. "Somewhere?" "Yes." I nodded enthusiastically. "A very... somewhere place." I immediately wanted to throw my phone out the window. Elliot leaned closer to his camera. "Why aren't you at the office?" I froze. Right. The office. Of course. That was the question I should have prepared for. I had been so busy worrying about him discovering Scotland that I'd forgotten he didn't even know I was here. I quickly smiled. "I'm on leave." Elliot frowned. "Since when?" "Since..." I paused for half a second. "Since today." "You didn't tell me." "I was going to." "When?" I smiled awkwardly. "Eventually?" His eyes narrowed. "Liela." I immediately sat straighter. "Yes?" "Why are you on leave?" I looked toward the closed curtains as though they might whisper an answer. "Aunt Helena needed my help." Elliot blinked. "For what?" I swallowed. This was it. I had to make the lie sound believable without accidentally making it sound like a lie. "She desperately needed me in Scotland." Elliot's eyebrows shot up. "Scotland?" "Yes." I nodded quickly. "Scotland." He stared at me for several seconds. "Why does Aunt Helena desperately need you in Scotland?" I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. My brain had apparently decided to take its own emergency leave.

I quickly recovered. "She has some... arrangements to handle." Elliot waited. I realized that wasn't nearly enough. "Important arrangements." He continued staring. "What kind of arrangements?" "Family arrangements." He still didn't look convinced. "And you couldn't tell anyone at work?" "I asked Arthur for leave." "Arthur knew?" "Yes." I nodded. "He approved it." That part, at least, was true. Elliot leaned closer to the screen. "So you just disappeared from the office because Aunt Helena desperately needed you in Scotland?" "I didn't disappear." I pointed at my phone. "I'm right here." "That's not what I mean." "I know." I smiled nervously. "I was going to tell you." "You were going to tell me after you went to Scotland?" I paused. "Technically..." I glanced away. "Yes." Elliot sighed deeply. "Liela, you can't just suddenly take leave and travel to another country without telling me." "I didn't suddenly do it." I protested. "I thought about it for a very long time." He stared at me. "That somehow makes it worse."

I tried to keep my face innocent, but then Elliot's eyes moved past me. "Where are you exactly?" I immediately shifted the phone closer to my face. "I told you. Scotland." "I know you're in Scotland. I'm asking where in Scotland." "A hotel." "Which hotel?" My heart jumped. "A hotel." "That's not the name of a hotel." "It's a very popular name." Elliot rubbed his forehead. "You're being weird." "I'm tired." "You look nervous." "I'm always nervous." "Not like this." 

Elliot glanced at the tiny visible portion of the room behind me. "Why does Aunt Helena's hotel room look like a five-star presidential suite?" I looked over my shoulder. "She has... upgraded." "Aunt Helena doesn't upgrade." "People change." "Not that much." I smiled weakly. "Maybe she's feeling generous." Elliot's expression became more suspicious by the second. "Liela." "Yes?" "Turn the camera around." My soul left my body. I stared at him. "Why?" "Because I want to see the room." "There's nothing to see." "Then turn it around." I tightened my grip on the phone. "Elliot, you're being very controlling." "And you're being very suspicious."

I tried to laugh, but even I could hear how fake it sounded. "There's really nothing suspicious." Elliot looked directly at me through the screen. "Then why are you sitting in front of the curtains like you're hiding evidence?" I glanced at the curtains. They were fully closed. "These?" "Yes, those." "They're just curtains." "Why are they closed?" "Privacy." "From whom?" "The sunlight." Elliot stared at me. "The sunlight?" "It's very aggressive." He rubbed his forehead. "Liela, I know you." I smiled nervously. "Unfortunately." "Something is wrong." "Nothing is wrong." "You're in a strange hotel room, you're acting nervous, you're lying about where you are, and you're hiding the background." I opened my mouth, then closed it. He continued, "And I haven't even asked the important question yet." My stomach dropped. "What question?" Elliot leaned closer to the screen.

"Who are you with?"