The hotel receptionist misinterpreted Laura's words.
Laura, however, was beyond in the mood for explanations. Her face suddenly darkened, and she snapped, "Immediately. Give me the information of that person! Otherwise, I'll have your manager come see me!"
Her hand slammed down on the desk in frustration.
The receptionist froze, clearly startled by Laura's sudden outburst. Seeing the seriousness in Laura's eyes, she stammered, "… Let me check."
The receptionist quickly turned to her computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard.
A moment later, she looked up, visibly embarrassed. "Mrs. Laura, I'm afraid there's no registration for him here."
"No registration information?" Laura barked. "Are you telling me anyone can check into your hotel without registering? What kind of nonsense is that?"
The receptionist's fear only deepened. She hadn't thought of it before, but now, seeing the lack of any record for John, something clicked in her mind. "I… I remember now," she said, her voice shaky. "When you came in, he used your ID to check in. You were the one who took out your ID card from your bag."
Laura's mind spun. She couldn't believe it.
It was a standard rule at most hotels that everyone must check in under their own name, but high-profile figures like Laura were usually given special treatment. In her case, the receptionist had only registered Laura's name to protect her privacy—an unofficial practice meant to keep her stays under wraps. It was a loose system that had worked for years.
Now, however, the situation was taking a dangerous turn.
Laura clenched her fists. "You're telling me I checked in for him?" she hissed, her voice dripping with anger. "Do you have any idea what that implies? Do you think I'd willingly check in a man I barely know?"
The receptionist felt her heart race. She had already been scared by Laura's anger, but hearing the woman's fury grow, she couldn't help but try to explain. "Mrs. Laura, please, don't be upset. It was you who checked in— I swear, I remember it clearly…"
"Bullshit! You're full of crap!" Laura shouted, ignoring her usual composed demeanor. "I want to see your damn surveillance video, now!"
This was exactly what the receptionist had hoped for. She didn't want to be blamed for something that wasn't her fault. The hotel's lobby manager soon arrived after hearing the commotion. After listening to the situation, he agreed to Laura's demand to review the security footage.
A few tense moments passed before the footage arrived.
Laura's face darkened as she watched the video.
According to the footage, the receptionist's story checked out: Laura herself had checked in for both herself and John—just as if she were a rich woman taking a pretty boy on a lavish vacation. The shock hit her hard. She couldn't recall any of it.
"What the hell?" Laura muttered, her mind reeling. She looked to Julian, who had been silently observing. "You said this guy was some kind of monk. Do you really believe that?"
"I... I think so," Julian stammered, trying to sound confident. "I mean, it's the only explanation! He must've used some Taoist technique or something to control our minds."
Laura glared at him, her patience gone. "Shut your mouth! Can't you see what's right in front of you? Do you think this is some simple mistake?"
For a moment, Laura felt a rush of disbelief. It wasn't just about a random lapse in memory; something was terribly wrong. John didn't just have a drug or trick up his sleeve—he had manipulated her, completely.
Laura's fists clenched tighter as a sudden realization hit her. She turned to Julian, her voice sharp. "You came to this hotel to take photos of Anita and her lover, right? Did that bastard trap you too?"
Julian scratched his head, embarrassed. "It was the information my master gave me…"
Laura's eyes widened with rage. "Danson," she growled. "I should've known! He's in on this with John."
Without missing a beat, Julian pulled out his phone and called his master, but the call went straight to voicemail.
"Damn it, Danson!" Laura spat, fury coursing through her veins. "You want to play games? Fine, but you've made a huge mistake."
Laura stormed out of the hotel, her fury building with every step. Julian followed closely behind, just as angry and betrayed. He had no idea his master was scheming against them all along.
'Well, if Danson wants to play dirty,' Julian thought, 'then don't blame me for ruining his reputation.'
Laura and Julian quickly gathered the men who had been posted outside the hotel, all of whom had been there to monitor Anita and her lover. But now? They were no longer paparazzi—they were part of Laura's personal army.
The men, confused by the sudden change in plans, didn't dare speak up. No one wanted to cross Laura's path when she was in this kind of mood. They didn't even question the disappearance of Anita and her lover, assuming they were just part of the game.
It didn't matter to them.
"Don't speak a word," Laura muttered to her crew, her face set in stone. "If you know what's good for you, just do as I say."
They didn't hesitate.
The group, under Laura's command, made their way straight to Danson's residence. When they arrived, the place was eerily empty.
"Damn it!" Laura screamed, her anger boiling over. She began throwing furniture, smashing anything in her path, the sound of destruction filling the room.
The frustration inside her built. Her power was in Houston, but she had limited influence in New York. How could she dig up information on John and Danson now?
If she had the same resources in New York as she did back home, she'd find them in days—no matter where they hid.
She gritted her teeth. "You've forced me to this, Danson. You've made a huge mistake."