Chapter 7
I read Victor's name three times.
Each time, I hoped I was misunderstanding.
There had to be another explanation.
A routine audit.
A coincidence.
Some harmless reason for my uncle to access a hotel reservation under my name.
But I knew better.
Victor hadn't called me in months.
He hadn't congratulated me when Hope was born.
He hadn't even visited after I left the hospital.
And yet, the night before I arrived at Ocean Crest, he had opened my reservation.
“Why?” I whispered.
My father shook his head.
“We don't know yet.”
I looked up.
“Then we need to ask him.”
Samuel was standing beside the door.
“He's been advised not to discuss the investigation directly with family members.”
I laughed bitterly.
“He's hiding behind lawyers.”
“We need to let the evidence lead us,” Samuel said.
I understood.
I hated it.
But I understood.
Later that morning, Emily delivered the recording.
Samuel arranged for an independent digital specialist to preserve the original file and verify its metadata.
I sat beside my father in a conference room.
Hope slept in her portable bassinet beside me.
Angela stood near the door.
Samuel pressed play.
At first, there was only background noise.
Then Diane's voice.
“Are you sure this is the right reservation?”
A man answered.
Victor.
“Yes.”
I gripped the edge of my chair.
Diane sounded nervous.
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
Victor laughed.
“Nothing dramatic. Just make her feel unwelcome.”
My heart started pounding.
Diane asked, “Why her?”
There was a pause.
Then Victor answered.
“Because Jonathan needs to understand that his perfect daughter isn't suited for this business.”
I looked at my father.
His face had gone pale.
On the recording, Diane spoke again.
“You're sure he won't find out?”
Victor replied, “Jonathan believes whatever his executives tell him. If she complains, we'll say she misunderstood.”
Marcus's voice entered.
“And if she refuses to leave?”
Victor answered without hesitation.
“Make it uncomfortable enough that she does.”
I covered my mouth.
They had planned it.
Not necessarily every cruel word.
Not the kick that sent my suitcase sliding across the floor.
But the humiliation.
The rejection.
The pressure to leave.
They had known I was coming.
They had waited for me.
And Victor had wanted my father to hear about it.
I looked at Samuel.
“Why would he do this?”
Samuel stopped the recording.
“We can't establish his full motive from this alone.”
My father closed his eyes.
“I think I know.”
I turned toward him.
“Dad?”
He looked older than I had ever seen him.
“Last month, I told Victor I was considering a new leadership structure.”
“What kind?”
“I wanted more independent oversight. Fewer executive appointments controlled by family members.”
I stared at him.
“Was he losing power?”
“Yes.”
“And he blamed me?”
My father hesitated.
“He has accused me of planning to give you control of the company.”
I almost laughed.
“Me? I don't even work there.”
“I told him that.”
“But he didn't believe you.”
My father shook his head.
“No.”
I looked toward Hope.
The tiny rise and fall of her chest suddenly seemed like the only thing in the room that made sense.
Victor had resented me for years.
Because my father loved me.
Because he believed I might inherit something Victor wanted.
And because I had never competed for it, he couldn't understand me.
I felt tears sliding down my face.
“He used my baby.”
My father reached for my hand.
“Nia—”
“He knew I had just given birth. He knew Hope would be with me.”
His eyes filled.
“I know.”
“He still told them to make us uncomfortable.”
My father covered his face.
For a moment, I saw him not as a wealthy businessman.
But as a brother whose faith had been destroyed.
I wanted to comfort him.
I also wanted to scream.
Both feelings hurt.
Samuel quietly explained that the recording would be reviewed alongside financial records, witness statements, and reservation logs.
The board would receive the verified evidence.
Law enforcement would be informed of relevant findings.
No accusation would be made without documentation.
But I already knew what I had heard.
My uncle had set a trap.
And my newborn daughter had been caught inside it.
Two days later, the company's independent investigators interviewed Victor.
He denied ordering anyone to discriminate.
He claimed his comments had been taken out of context.
Then he accused Emily of fabricating the recording.
That same afternoon, investigators found the original meeting appointment on Diane's calendar.
The location matched the recording metadata.
The attendees matched.
And Marcus confirmed that the meeting had taken place.
His attorney later informed investigators that Marcus wished to cooperate.
When I heard that, I felt relief for the first time in days.
But it didn't last.
That evening, Samuel called my father with news about the financial investigation.
The questionable refunds weren't simply missing.
Some had been redirected through an outside vendor.
The vendor had received payments for guest-relations consulting.
But investigators could find little evidence that legitimate consulting work had been performed.
My father asked the obvious question.
“Who owns the vendor?”
Samuel hesitated.
“It's registered through another company.”
“And that company?”
“Records identify Victor's business associate as the managing member.”
I sat beside my father, listening.
He placed the phone on speaker.
Samuel continued.
“We need more records before drawing conclusions. But the pattern is concerning.”
My father stared at the floor.
“How much money?”
“Potentially over two million dollars across several years.”
I felt my stomach twist.
Two million dollars.
While families were turned away.
While refunds disappeared.
While employees were threatened into silence.
Victor had called it protecting profitability.
I suddenly understood what kind of protection he meant.
I looked at my father.
“Will you still defend him?”
He turned toward me.
His eyes were wet.
“No.”
His answer came without hesitation.
“I will love my brother as the person I grew up with.”
He paused.
“But I will not protect him from what he's done.”
I reached for his hand.
He squeezed mine.
Then Samuel spoke again.
“There's one more development.”
My father straightened.
“What?”
“Victor has requested an emergency board meeting.”
“On what grounds?”
Samuel took a breath.
“He's accusing you of being unfit to lead.”
I stared at my father.
Samuel continued.
“And he's demanding that the board remove you as chairman.”
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then my father slowly stood.
“Tell them I'll be there.”
May you like
He looked at me.
“And this time, I'm not going alone.”
