Patrick reluctantly typed again.
Four seconds passed.
Then his fingers stopped.
The color drained from his face.
“Here it is,” he murmured.
“Suite 904.”
He swallowed.
“Corporate reservation. Confirmed two weeks ago.”
A suffocating silence fell over the front desk.
And then Clara set down the roses.
She reached into her backpack.
And placed her business card on the marble.
It read:
CLARA VANCE
FOUNDER & CHAIRMAN
VANCE HOSPITALITY GROUP
Nobody moved.
Patrick stared at the card.
Karl’s smile disappeared.
Lupita looked from the card to Clara.
Clara picked up the roses.
“Thank you for finding my reservation.”
Patrick’s mouth opened.
“Ms. Vance…”
Clara raised one finger.
“Please don’t wake my daughter.”
That was the first thing she said.
Not “You’re fired.”
Not “How dare you.”
Not “You should know who I am.”
Just:
“Please don’t wake my daughter.”
Because Clara had spent eleven years building her company around one simple principle.
People remember how you make them feel when they need help.
And tonight, her own hotel had failed that test.
The Grand Regent wasn’t just another luxury hotel.
It was the crown jewel of Vance Hospitality Group.
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