Chapter 2: The Email Nobody Was Supposed to See
The general manager's name was Harrison.
I'd hired him myself, four years ago.
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
The first receptionist — the one who had smiled — took a small step backward.
The second one gripped the edge of the desk like it might hold her up.
"Mr.
Vance," Harrison finally said.
"I had no idea you were—"
"I know you didn't," I said.
"That's the point."
Lily stirred on the sofa.
I lowered my voice.
"She told me to find a cheap motel.
My daughter is six years old.
She lost her mother three years ago.
And tonight, of all nights, your staff treated us like we were an inconvenience."
Harrison turned toward the desk.
His voice went flat.
"Is that true?"
Neither woman answered.
Lupita stood quietly near the elevator, still holding her towels, eyes down.
"She's the only one who tried to help," I said.
"Remember that."
Harrison nodded stiffly.
Then he reached into his jacket pocket and placed something on the desk between us.
A printed email.
Dated six days ago.
"Mr.
Vance," he said carefully.
"Before we go further — there's something you need to see."
His hand was shaking.
---
What was in that email — and why did Harrison look afraid to show it?
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