Chapter 2
Richard tried to laugh.
It sounded terrible.
“Elijah is upset.”
I looked at him.
“About what?”
“Personnel issues.”
Elijah stood outside the elevator.
His hands were trembling.
But he didn’t leave.
“Tell me,” I said.
Richard stepped between us.
“Mr. Brooks, your daughter is exhausted.”
He was right about Sophie.
Her eyes were nearly closed again.
But something about Richard’s urgency bothered me.
“Elijah.”
The bellhop looked at me.
“What were you going to say?”
He glanced at Richard.
Richard’s smile disappeared.
“You need to think carefully.”
That was enough.
I stepped out of the elevator.
“Richard, go upstairs.”
He blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Take my bag to the Presidential Suite.”
“Sir—”
“I’m speaking to Elijah.”
His jaw tightened.
For the first time, I saw something beneath the polished executive manner.
Fear.
Not embarrassment.
Fear.
Richard took my backpack.
Then he walked into the elevator.
The doors closed.
Elijah exhaled.
“Thank you.”
I nodded toward a quiet seating area.
“Come with me.”
Sophie woke when I sat down.
“Are we staying here?”
“Just for a few minutes.”
She looked at Elijah.
He gave her a gentle smile.
“Would you like some hot chocolate?”
Sophie looked at me.
I nodded.
Elijah asked another employee to bring one.
Then he sat across from me.
“What’s happening?”
He rubbed his palms together.
“It’s not just Vanessa.”
“I figured that out.”
He looked toward the reception desk.
“She learned it from management.”
“From Richard?”
Elijah hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
“Then who?”
“Our general manager.”
I knew the name.
Patricia Lang.
She had managed the Brooks Grand for five years.
Revenue had increased every year.
Guest satisfaction reports looked excellent.
Employee turnover was high, but Richard always blamed the labor market.
“What has Patricia been doing?”
Elijah lowered his voice.
“She tells us certain guests are bad for the brand.”
“What does that mean?”
“People who look poor.”
My stomach tightened.
“People with old clothes. Workers. Families using discount bookings. Sometimes elderly guests.”
“And?”
“She tells staff to push them away from the lobby.”
I stared at him.
“How?”
“Say rooms aren’t available.”
“Even when they are?”
He nodded.
“Sometimes cancel bookings.”
My anger rose.
“Why?”
“She says luxury is about controlling who people see.”
I looked across the lobby.
Vanessa was crying behind the desk.
A supervisor stood beside her.
No one looked comfortable.
“How long?”
“I’ve worked here eight months.”
“And it’s happened the whole time?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you report it?”
“I did.”
That surprised me.
“To whom?”
“Human Resources.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Richard?”
“I emailed his office.”
“And?”
“Two days later, Patricia cut my hours.”
I leaned back.
There it was.
Retaliation.
“Do you still have the emails?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He looked nervous.
“Sir, there’s more.”
The hot chocolate arrived.
Sophie took it carefully.
“Thank you.”
The server smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
Once she left, Elijah continued.
“Last month, an elderly woman came here for her granddaughter’s wedding.”
I listened.
“She had a reservation.”
“But?”
“Patricia saw her waiting near the ballroom.”
“What was wrong with her?”
“Nothing.”
Elijah swallowed.
“She was wearing an old coat. Carrying groceries in a plastic bag.”
“And Patricia thought she didn’t belong.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“They removed her.”
My chest tightened.
“From a wedding?”
“She kept explaining she was the bride’s grandmother.”
“And?”
“Security escorted her outside.”
I looked toward the entrance.
Rain hammered against the glass.
“What happened to her?”
“She fell near the curb.”
Sophie stopped drinking.
“Was she hurt?”
Elijah looked at her.
“Yes.”
My daughter’s face changed.
“That’s mean.”
I rubbed her shoulder.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Elijah continued.
“The bride found out forty minutes later.”
“Was it reported?”
“Patricia refunded part of the wedding package.”
“And the incident?”
“Never officially recorded.”
I could barely believe what I was hearing.
Brooks Hospitality had policies specifically designed to prevent this.
Independent complaint channels.
Whistleblower protection.
Guest safety reporting.
Someone had bypassed all of it.
“Do you know the woman’s name?”
“Elena Morales.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
He pulled out his phone.
“I started saving things.”
Emails.
Staff messages.
Photos of printed instructions.
One message from Patricia read:
High-value guests should never feel the property has become a public waiting room.
Another said:
Use discretion. We are selling exclusivity.
Then I saw Richard’s name.
My chest tightened.
He had replied to one message.
Keep complaints internal. We don’t need corporate misunderstanding local strategy.
I stared at the screen.
Richard knew.
Maybe he had helped create it.
I took out my phone and called my chief legal officer.
Karen Walsh answered immediately.
“Daniel?”
“I need you to open a confidential investigation into the Brooks Grand.”
She paused.
“What happened?”
“Possible discrimination, retaliation, falsified guest records.”
Her tone changed.
“Are you at the property?”
“Yes.”
“Do not warn management.”
“Too late.”
“What?”
“They know I’m here.”
She cursed softly.
“Then secure records now.”
I looked toward the elevator.
Richard had my backpack.
My laptop was inside.
So were several company access devices.
My stomach tightened.
“Elijah.”
“Yes?”
“Where is Richard’s office?”
“Third floor.”
I stood.
Sophie looked up.
“Daddy?”
I crouched beside her.
“We’re going upstairs.”
“Are we in trouble?”
“No.”
I smiled.
“We’re fixing something.”
She took my hand.
Elijah came with us.
When the elevator opened on the third floor, we saw Richard at the end of the hallway.
He was leaving his office.
Without my backpack.
“Richard.”
He froze.
“Mr. Brooks.”
“Where’s my bag?”
His face went blank.
“I sent it upstairs.”
I knew he was lying.
Because through the open door behind him, I could see my old backpack sitting on his desk.
And beside it was my laptop.
Open.
Richard followed my eyes.
May you like
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then he reached backward and slammed the office door.
