My wife noticed a blinking light on our Airbnb’s smoke detector. I climbed up, unscrewed the cover, and froze. Inside was a tiny lens — a hidden camera. My stomach turned. Without saying a word, I grabbed our bags. We packed in minutes and drove away, hearts pounding. From a diner parking lot two towns over, I pulled out my laptop and wrote a scathing review to warn others. Minutes later, a notification popped up. The host had replied:
