Framed By The Pop Star Chapter 1

A trending young pop star had secretly checked into our luxury hotel.

I was working at the front desk when I received a frantic call from him. He claimed he had slipped in the shower, probably broken his leg, and begged me to rush up and help.

Yet the second I walked in to check on his injury, he tackled me to the ground and tore off every stitch of my clothes.

Moments later, a swarm of paparazzi burst through the door, snapping dozens of compromising photos of us.

That very day, I was dragged through the mud online, branded a "slut," a "whore," a "cheap gold digger," and "the desperate hotel maid who climbed into a star's bed."

Even my closest coworker turned on me with disgust: "I told you to go rescue him, not to sleep with him!"

The scandal blew up completely. I was fired from the hotel, my reputation was utterly destroyed, and my parents—claiming I had brought shame upon the family—kicked me out onto the streets.

Driven into hopeless despair, I threw myself off the hotel’s rooftop.

What I never expected was that the day after my death, that same pop star signed a massive new movie deal and announced his solo arena tour!

The truth was, he had been having an illicit affair with his sister-in-law in that room.

When he was tipped off that reporters were storming the hotel to catch them, he fabricated the entire scene, setting me up to take the fall and cover up their dirty secret.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I received that phone call!

"Hello, front desk? I fell in my room and can't stand up. I think my leg's broken. Get up here and help me right now!"

The voice on the other end was frantic.

Seeing me frozen in place, my coworker Wendy nudged my shoulder.

"Hey, Chloe, why are you just standing there? What are you waiting for? Go check on him!"

Realizing I had traveled back in time, I answered without a second thought:

"No."

Wendy stared at me, completely caught off guard by my blunt refusal.

Hearing no response, the man on the phone lost all patience.

"I’m a VIP guest at this hotel! Help me out and I’ll make it worth your while. But if anything happens to me, your management will be held accountable, and you’ll be the very first person fired!"

Wendy quickly tapped on her computer screen to check the reservation details.

"Wait... the guest in Room 502 is Julian Vance! The superstar! My ultimate celebrity crush! When did he even check in?!"

Wendy’s eyes lit up with wild excitement, practically drooling over the screen.

Then, as if realizing something, she pulled a mock expression of pity.

"Chloe, this is once-in-a-lifetime! Go up there right now!"

I smiled inwardly. A great opportunity? Sure—an opportunity to drag me straight into hell.

Julian Vance was a narcissistic, ruthless scumbag who stopped at nothing to protect himself.

This alleged injury was nothing more than a calculated trap, and Wendy had been his willing accomplice in pushing me off the ledge.

I glanced sideways at her.

"Wendy, isn't Julian your dream guy? Since it's such an amazing opportunity, why don't I give it to you?"

Wendy rubbed her hands together, a blush rising on her cheeks as she barely contained her excitement.

"I mean, I could help..." Then she dipped her head, murmuring under her breath, "Wait, what about my shift pay?"

"You know the drill. If I abandon the front desk, the manager will spot it on the cameras and dock my pay. That’s an automatic eighty-dollar penalty!"

"Oh, so your idol isn't even worth eighty bucks to you?"

I put heavy emphasis on the eighty dollars, letting the sarcasm drip from every word.

I had almost forgotten—Wendy was notorious around the hotel for being a stingy penny-pincher. Losing a single dollar felt like cutting off a piece of her flesh.

Look at her: still as hypocritical and selfish as ever.

In my past life, to suck up to Julian, she maliciously slandered me before the press and spread vile, degrading rumors about me during live streams. I remembered every single detail.

Now, looking at her and listening to that voice on the phone only made me sick to my stomach.

Slipping and breaking a leg? What a pathetic load of crap!

Julian was busy hooking up with his sister-in-law in that room and had just found out paparazzi were about to ambush them.

In my previous life, the moment I took that call, I hadn't doubted him for a second. I had rushed upstairs like an eager fool to help.

Finding Julian collapsed on the floor, groaning and clutching his leg, I had grabbed a blanket to cover him and pulled out my phone to dial 911.

I never imagined that before I could even dial, he would lunge forward, pin me down, and rip my clothes off.

I screamed, asking what he was doing, and he claimed he had fallen for me at first sight.

I didn't buy a single word and warned him:

"Let go of me right now, or I'm calling the police!"

He overpowered me easily, leaving me completely stripped down within seconds.

He wrapped his arms tightly around me, holding me against his bare chest.

"I saw you the second I checked in today. Love at first sight. I promise I'll take full responsibility for you."

It was only then that I recognized his face—Julian Vance, the nation's biggest pop sensation.

Before I could process another thought, a horde of reporters kicked the door open, flashing their cameras in a frenzy.

The moment the flashbulbs lit up, Julian kicked me violently away onto the floor.

"You shameless bitch! How dare you sneak into my room and crawl into my bed?!"