Chapter 2 - Sanctuary on the Ninth Floor
The private elevator glided upward in near silence, the quiet hum of the high-speed cables echoing faintly in the shaft. Inside the mirror-lined cabin, Lily stirred against Ethan’s shoulder, letting out a small, soft sigh and clutching the worn fabric of his brown leather jacket.
“Shh, sweetie,” Ethan whispered, kissing the top of her head. “We’re almost there.”
Lupita watched the interaction with a gentle, motherly warmth in her eyes. “She looks so much like her mother, Mr. Vance.”
Ethan glanced at Lupita, surprised. “You knew Sarah?”
Lupita smiled softly, a nostalgic look washing over her face. “Four years ago, before she passed. You both stayed here for the grand opening of the East Wing. She came down to the housekeeping pantry one morning looking for a specific mint tea. She didn't send room service; she came herself. She spent twenty minutes talking to me about my family in Mexico and how much she loved the hand-embroidered tablecloths in the dining room. Mrs. Vance was a woman of rare grace.”
Ethan felt a tight knot forming in his throat. The bent roses in his hand felt heavy with the weight of memory. “She was,” he murmured. “She really was.”
The elevator doors chimed and slid open directly into the foyer of Suite 904. The suite was expansive, featuring floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the shimmering lights of downtown Chicago and Lake Michigan. Warm accent lights automatically illuminated the mahogany wood furnishings and plush velvet seating.
Lupita stepped ahead, quietly opening the double doors to the master bedroom and peeling back the Egyptian cotton duvet on the king-sized bed. Ethan walked in softly, lowering Lily onto the mattress with absolute precision, unlacing her small sneakers, and wrapping the heavy blanket around her shoulders.
Lily nestled deep into the pillows, her small arm reaching out instinctively until her hand brushed against the soft, faded bunny Ethan placed beside her.
Ethan stood over the bed for a long moment, watching the steady rise and fall of his daughter’s chest. The exhaustion of the fourteen-hour travel delay, the cold wind outside, and the confrontation downstairs settled deep into his bones.
He walked back into the main living area of the suite, where Lupita was carefully setting his backpack on a side table. She had also found a crystal vase from a cabinet, filled it with fresh water, and was trimming the stems of the red roses before placing them inside.
“Thank you, Lupita,” Ethan said, sitting down on the edge of a leather sofa and rubbing his face with both hands. “You didn't have to do that.”
“Flowers need water, Mr. Vance,” Lupita said gently, adjusting the red petals so the bent stems leaned gracefully against the crystal rim. “Especially flowers meant for someone special.”
Ethan looked at the roses. “Tomorrow makes three years.”
“I know,” Lupita said softly. “The staff who have been here long enough remember. But things have changed in this hotel over the last two years, Mr. Vance. Ever since Mr. Harrison took over as General Manager, the soul of this place has drifted.”
Ethan’s eyes sharpened. “Tell me.”
Lupita hesitated for a moment, then took a breath. “It started small. Cutting staff hours, reducing benefits for the cleaning and kitchen crews. But then the culture changed. Mr. Harrison told the front desk staff that the Grand Regent is an 'elite brand' and that we must protect our image. He encouraged them to screen guests—to prioritize corporate executives and high-net-worth individuals, while turning a cold shoulder to anyone who doesn't 'fit the look.' Patricia and Karla are not exceptions; they are the product of his management.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. He had built Vance Hospitality on the core philosophy that true luxury was not about marble floors or gold-plated fixtures; it was about radical warmth, respect, and making every human being feel valued. To hear that his flagship property had been corrupted into an engine of snobbery burned hotter than any personal insult.
“Where is Harrison tonight?” Ethan asked.
“He is in the Grand Ballroom,” Lupita replied. “Hosting the annual Chicago Builders Association Gala. The Mayor and several major investors are down there.”
Ethan looked at his watch. It was 11:15 PM.
May you like
“Lupita,” Ethan said, standing up. “Could I ask you a personal favor? Would you mind sitting in the suite for an hour while Lily sleeps? I need to go pay my General Manager a visit.”
Lupita smiled, a quiet sense of pride in her posture. “I will guard this door with my life, Mr. Vance.”
