The Unwanted Guests
The honeymoon suite at the Fairmont Pacific Rim was everything I had ever imagined—a sanctuary of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Vancouver harbor. After months of wedding chaos, my husband, Ethan, and I finally had a moment to breathe. Tipsy on expensive wine and ready to enjoy our first night as newlyweds, we were just beginning to unwind when it happened.
Bang. Bang. BANG.
Someone was pounding on our hotel room door. Hard.
We froze. Then came a shrill voice that made my stomach plummet. “Ethan! Open this door right now! I know you’re in there with her!”
My heart hammered against my ribs. I turned to Ethan, whose face had gone from relaxed to stone cold. “No way,” I whispered. “Is that…?”
Before I could finish, another voice screeched through the door. “This is her room, Ethan! Not that homewrecker’s!”
It was his mother. I was stunned. His ex-fiancée, Clare, and his mother, Linda, had tracked us down and were now trying to break into our honeymoon suite. Ethan’s eyes darkened. He marched toward the door, but I grabbed his wrist. “Don’t. Let’s call security.”
Another bang, followed by Clare’s voice, cracking with desperation. “Ethan, please! We belong together! You know this should be our honeymoon!”
Then, Linda added the cherry on top. “She was here first, Ethan! You owe her this! Don’t let that woman ruin your real relationship!”
Rage, pure and hot, flooded my veins. Ethan grabbed the hotel phone. “We have trespassers trying to break into our suite,” he said, his voice lethally calm. “Send security. Now.”
The moment security arrived, Ethan wrenched the door open. Clare stood there, her makeup smudged and her eyes blazing with a crazed hatred. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ethan demanded.
Clare reached for him, but he recoiled as if she were poison. Unfazed, she turned to the security guards and screamed, her voice echoing down the pristine hallway, “He’s my husband! Not hers!”
Linda immediately backed her up. “Yes! Clare is his true fiancée! That woman tricked him into this sham of a marriage!”
The head of security, a no-nonsense man in a crisp suit, glanced at Ethan. “Do you want them removed, sir?”
Ethan didn’t even hesitate. “Get them out of my sight.”
That’s when Clare’s eyes fell on the simple gold band on Ethan’s left hand. The finality of it hit her like a physical blow. Her face drained of all color. “You… you actually married her?”
Security grabbed her arm as she began to thrash and sob. “No, Ethan, don’t do this! You love me!”
As they were dragged away, Linda shrieked, “You’ll regret this, Ethan! She’s ruining your life!”
He didn’t flinch. He just stared them down until they were gone, then finally turned to me, his jaw tight. “Let’s make sure they never come near us again.”
The Social Media War
The honeymoon suite, once a symbol of our new beginning, now felt tainted by their insanity. But the assault wasn’t over. It had just moved online.
Ethan’s phone began buzzing incessantly. He swore under his breath and turned the screen toward me. Clare had already launched her campaign.
“I can’t believe the love of my life was manipulated into marrying someone else,” she had posted on Facebook. “He’s being controlled. This isn’t over.”
The comments section was a cesspool of misplaced sympathy. “OMG Clare, I’m so sorry!” “Wait, Ethan got married? I thought you two were still together!” “That homewrecker must have trapped him!”
And right at the top, a comment from his mother, Linda: “My son deserves better than some gold-digging tramp. We all know who his real soulmate is.”
“Are you serious?” I seethed.
Ethan started typing, his fingers flying across the screen. “I’m shutting this down right now.”
“No,” I said, stopping him. “Let them. Let them dig their own graves. The more they post, the worse they’ll look when the truth comes out.”
He met my gaze, and a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. He knew I was right. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding. This was war.
The next morning, it had escalated. Clare had written a long, dramatic sob story about how I had “appeared out of nowhere” and “manipulated” the love of her life. Linda was fanning the flames in the comments, asking for lawyer recommendations to “save” her son. Even some of Ethan’s extended family were falling for it, urging him to “fix this.”
Meanwhile, my own phone was flooding with hate from anonymous accounts. Snake emojis. Vile comments. “Enjoy your honeymoon, btch. Karma’s coming for you.”*
I took a shaky breath and looked at Ethan. The anger simmering beneath his calm demeanor was about to boil over. “So,” he said, his voice tight. “What’s the plan?”
The Counter-Offensive
If they wanted war, they would get one. We sat on the couch in our suite, laptops open, phones buzzing. It was time to turn the tables.
First, I took screenshots of everything—every post, every lie, every harassing message. Then, Ethan got on the phone with hotel security. “They have cameras in the hallways,” he said, a grim smirk on his face. “We can get footage of them trying to break in.”
While we waited for the footage, I had an idea. “You still have access to your mom’s Netflix account, right?”
Ethan’s eyes widened as he caught on. We reset one of her other passwords—because of course she used the same lazy security for everything—and what we found was absolute gold. Linda was actively organizing a harassment campaign against me. Clare was messaging Ethan’s cousins, begging them to help get him back, still calling herself his fiancée.
“We could just block them,” Ethan said. “Or we could destroy them.”
He cracked his knuckles. “Let’s make sure they never pull this stunt again.”
The plan was simple. Expose their lies publicly, with irrefutable proof. Cut off anyone who sided with them. Make sure they faced real-world consequences. We didn’t just want revenge. We wanted a spectacle.
The Brunch Ambush
Ethan’s family was planning a post-wedding brunch at his aunt’s house. Clare and Linda weren’t invited, but we knew they’d show up. They couldn’t stand being left out of the drama they had created.
We set the trap with a single, vague Facebook post from Ethan: “Excited to see everyone at brunch tomorrow! Can’t wait to celebrate with family.”
They took the bait.
Right on cue, as the brunch was underway, the front door swung open. Linda and Clare strolled in as if they owned the place, triumphant smiles plastered on their faces.
The room fell silent.
“Ethan, baby!” Clare cooed, reaching for his arm. “I’m so glad you’re finally coming to your senses.”
He yanked his arm away as if she were contagious. “Don’t touch me.”
A few gasps rippled through the room. “Ethan, don’t be rude!” Linda snapped.
That was my cue. “Actually,” I said, standing up and clearing my throat. “I think there’s something everyone here should see first.”
I pulled out my phone and hit play on the hotel security footage.
The video showed Clare and Linda, wild-eyed and screaming, pounding on our honeymoon suite door. It captured every unhinged word, every insane accusation. Jaws dropped. Clare’s face went ghost-white.
“What the hell is this?” she stammered.
“Proof,” Ethan said, his voice like ice, “that you’re dangerously unstable.”
Before she could react, I pulled up the screenshots of Linda’s messages. “Oh, and Linda, maybe you can explain why you were asking people to harass me online? Or trying to get our marriage annulled? Should I keep going?”
Her smugness shattered. Humiliated, exposed, and utterly destroyed, Clare turned and ran out of the house in tears. Linda stumbled after her, still trying to argue, but no one was listening. For the first time, Ethan’s family finally saw them for what they were.
The Fallout
The aftermath was immediate and brutal.
Clare worked as a real estate agent, a profession that relies entirely on trust and reputation. A viral video of a psychotic breakdown outside a married man’s honeymoon suite is not good for business. Her brokerage fired her.
Linda tried to double down, claiming I had hacked her accounts. Ethan’s aunt, who had once been neutral, publicly shut her down in a family group chat that got hundreds of likes.
Then, Ethan delivered the final blow. He wrote a single, brutally honest post laying out the entire truth, ending with: “If you still support either of them after seeing the proof, don’t bother speaking to me again.”
The last of their supporters vanished. Their social standing was annihilated.
We filed for restraining orders. The hotel footage and harassing messages made it an open-and-shut case.
A local Vancouver gossip page picked up the story, posting the video with the headline: “Local Real Estate Agent Goes Full Psycho on Ex at His Honeymoon.” Clare deactivated all her social media within hours and, according to rumor, left the city in disgrace.
We spent the rest of our honeymoon in glorious, uninterrupted peace. Some people wait for karma. We believe in delivering it ourselves. Spectacularly.