Chapter 2 - The Audit of the Heart
Brianna’s fingers shook violently as she lifted the desk phone, dialing the general manager’s private extension.
"M-Mr. Harrington?" she whispered into the receiver, her eyes fixed on the floor. "You... you need to come to the front desk immediately. It's... it's an emergency."
Within ninety seconds, the heavy mahogany doors of the executive office opened. Arthur Harrington, a man in his late fifties wearing a bespoke Italian suit and a gold watch, stepped into the lobby with an annoyed expression.
"Brianna, this better be important, I'm reviewing the quarterly figures for the gala—"
Harrington stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes met mine.
He recognized me instantly. We had stood together at the ribbon-cutting ceremony three years ago, right before Sarah passed away.
"Mr... Mr. Vance?!" Harrington gasped, his arrogance vanishing in a single breath. He hurried across the marble floor, extending a hand that was visibly shaking. "Sir! We had no warning! Welcome to The Grand Regent! Please, allow me to take your bags—"
"Keep your hands to yourself, Arthur," I said, stepping back slightly to protect Lily, who was still asleep against my shoulder.
Harrington’s hand fell to his side. He glanced nervously at Brianna and Ashley, who were standing behind the desk looking pale and sick. "Sir, is there a problem? Was there an issue with your arrival?"
"I arrived forty minutes ago," I said, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. "I brought my six-year-old daughter, who has been traveling all day. I brought red roses for my late wife's portrait. And when I asked for my confirmed reservation, your front-desk staff informed me that I should try a cheap motel near the highway."
Harrington turned toward the desk, his face contorting in horror. "What?!"
"They didn't bother checking the executive block," I continued. "They mocked my clothing. They claimed the hotel was full because of a gala. And when Lupita here stepped forward to offer basic human courtesy, Ashley told her to 'know her place' and go back upstairs."
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Harrington rounded on the two receptionists, his voice thunderous. "Are you out of your minds?! Do you have any idea who this man is?! He built this entire company!"
"Arthur, don't pretend your outrage is about ethics," I cut in sharply. "You're only angry because it was me they insulted. If I had been an actual working-class father with a tired child, you wouldn't have given it a second thought. That tells me everything I need to know about the culture you've built in my hotel."
