Chapter 3
Diane moved so quickly that I barely saw her reach the reception desk.
“Emily, you are not authorized to discuss internal hotel matters.”
Emily flinched.
She couldn't have been older than twenty-three.
Her blond? No, her dark natural curls were pulled into a neat bun, and her hands trembled against the counter.
My father stepped between them.
“Ms. Walker, move away from her.”
Diane stopped.
“Sir, this employee has a history of misunderstandings.”
Emily's eyes filled.
“That's not true.”
I felt Hope shifting against my chest.
I rocked her gently while watching the terrified young woman.
My father turned to Emily.
“What's your name?”
“Emily Carter.”
“Emily, nobody here is going to punish you for telling the truth.”
Her gaze flickered toward Diane.
“She's said that before.”
Something cold settled inside me.
My father glanced at Samuel.
“Please document that.”
Samuel opened his tablet.
Diane crossed her arms.
“This is becoming ridiculous.”
I finally spoke.
“Then why are you so scared of what she's going to say?”
Diane looked at me.
For a second, her expression was the same one she had worn when I was on the floor.
Pure contempt.
Then she remembered my father was standing beside me.
Her face softened into a forced smile.
“Nia, sweetheart—”
“Don't call me sweetheart.”
The words came out stronger than I expected.
She looked away.
Emily stepped around the reception desk.
“Three weeks ago, a family arrived with two little boys. They'd booked a suite for their anniversary.”
My father listened.
“Go on.”
“Diane told them their reservation had been canceled.”
“Had it?”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
She swallowed.
“She told me to change the reservation status afterward.”
Samuel looked up.
“Did you?”
Emily began crying.
“Yes.”
Diane pointed at her.
“There! She admits manipulating records.”
“You instructed me to do it!”
The whole lobby heard her.
Diane froze.
Emily covered her mouth.
I watched her struggling to breathe.
I recognized that feeling.
The awful moment when you finally tell the truth and realize you can't take it back.
My father lowered his voice.
“Emily, did you keep evidence?”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Some.”
Diane's eyes widened.
Samuel stepped forward.
“What kind?”
“Emails. Messages. Copies of canceled reservations.”
My father remained calm.
“Where are they?”
Emily glanced toward the staff hallway.
“On my personal laptop.”
Diane immediately said, “She stole confidential company information.”
Samuel answered before my father could.
“Preserving evidence of suspected misconduct is not the same as establishing unlawful theft. We'll review everything properly.”
Diane's mouth tightened.
My father turned toward a nearby employee.
“Is there a private conference room available?”
The employee nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“Please arrange one.”
Then he looked at me.
“Before anything else, my daughter needs a room and somewhere comfortable to feed her baby.”
For the first time all day, I felt the exhaustion rushing back.
My knees were trembling.
My arms ached.
And Hope was becoming restless.
“I just need somewhere quiet,” I admitted.
My father touched my cheek.
“You should have had that an hour ago.”
Within minutes, we were escorted into the resort's largest oceanfront suite.
It had an enormous living room, a private terrace, and windows overlooking the water.
I barely noticed.
I sat on the sofa and checked Hope's diaper.
She was hungry.
While I fed her, my father stood by the window.
He was unusually quiet.
“Dad?”
He turned.
“Hmm?”
“Did you really not know what was happening at this hotel?”
He sat opposite me.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
His expression changed.
“Nia, I own interests in many properties. I have executives who manage daily operations.”
I looked down.
“So you didn't know.”
“I didn't know about this incident.”
Something about his wording bothered me.
“What does that mean?”
He sighed.
“Over the past year, we've received several complaints about inconsistent treatment of guests at Ocean Crest.”
I stared at him.
“What kind of complaints?”
“Discrimination. Questionable cancellations. Unexplained fees.”
My stomach tightened.
“And nobody did anything?”
“We initiated reviews.”
“Reviews?”
He looked pained.
“Nia…”
I shook my head.
“A review didn't stop her from kicking my bag.”
He lowered his eyes.
“No. It didn't.”
I had never seen my father accept criticism so quietly.
Normally, he defended his decisions with facts and explanations.
But this time, he had none.
“I built my company believing good people could run it with the same values I taught you,” he said.
“Maybe some of them don't have those values.”
He nodded.
“Maybe I haven't looked closely enough.”
I looked at the sleeping face of my daughter.
“She could have been hurt.”
My father's eyes filled.
“I know.”
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then someone knocked.
Samuel entered, looking troubled.
“Mr. Bennett, we have a preliminary issue.”
My father stood.
“What?”
“Security records from several previous incidents appear to be missing.”
I felt my pulse quicken.
“Missing?”
Samuel nodded.
“The system shows they were manually deleted.”
“By who?” my father demanded.
“We haven't confirmed that yet.”
He glanced toward me.
“But the security manager had administrative access.”
“Marcus,” I whispered.
Samuel nodded.
My father walked toward the door.
“Where is he?”
“Still downstairs. Corporate security has been notified.”
“Make sure he doesn't access the equipment.”
Samuel hesitated.
“There's something else.”
My father stopped.
“The reservations department reported that the canceled bookings disproportionately involved Black families and other guests Diane considered undesirable.”
The room went silent.
My chest tightened.
I thought about that family with two little boys.
I pictured them arriving excited for their vacation.
And I imagined somebody telling them they didn't belong.
Just like Diane had told me.
“How long?” I asked.
Samuel looked at me.
“How long has this been happening?”
“We're still determining that.”
My father turned back.
“We'll find out.”
I shook my head.
“Finding out isn't enough.”
He waited.
“Those people deserve to know somebody believes them.”
His expression softened.
“You're right.”
I looked at Samuel.
“Can I speak to Emily?”
“Of course.”
“And the woman who recorded what happened?”
Samuel nodded.
I took a slow breath.
“I want to help.”
My father approached.
“Nia, you just had a baby.”
“I know.”
“You need rest.”
“I know that too.”
He looked at Hope.
Then back at me.
“But?”
I lifted my chin.
“But somebody needs to make sure those families aren't forgotten.”
Samuel's phone suddenly vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
His expression darkened.
“Mr. Bennett.”
My father turned.
“What now?”
Samuel looked directly at him.
“Diane has called a board member.”
My father frowned.
“Which one?”
“Your younger brother.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“Uncle Victor?”
Samuel nodded.
“And according to his office, he's already on his way.”
My father stared at the phone.
May you like
Then he said something I had never heard him say about his own brother.
“That explains more than I wanted it to.”
