Chapter 3: What the Email Said
I picked up the paper.
The sender address was a personal Gmail account — no company domain, no signature block.
The recipient was Harrison's work email.
The subject line read: *Re: Thursday visit — keep him out.*
I read it twice before I spoke.
"Who sent this?"
Harrison's jaw moved.
"Mr.
Vance, I want you to understand — I didn't act on it.
I didn't respond.
I printed it because I didn't know what to do with it."
"Who sent it?"
He looked at the floor.
"Your brother."
The lobby went quiet enough that I could hear the distant sound of the gala downstairs.
Glasses.
Music.
Someone laughing.
"Read it to me," I said.
"Out loud."
"Mr.
Vance—"
"Out loud, Harrison."
He took the paper back.
His voice was steady but low.
"'Don't let him access the executive block.
Tell him the reservation was lost.
If he pushes, tell him the system migrated and the booking didn't transfer.
He won't make a scene in front of the girl.
He never does.
I need him out of that building before nine.
Don't ask why.
Just do it.'"
Harrison set the paper down.
The first receptionist had gone very still.
Her colleague had stopped gripping the desk.
Neither of them looked at me.
"Did he contact you directly?" I asked.
"Yes.
A phone call first, then the email when I didn't reply fast enough."
"And you told your staff?"
Harrison closed his eyes briefly.
"I told them the reservation had a system error.
I didn't tell them why.
I didn't think they would—" He stopped.
"You didn't think they would enjoy it," I said.
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I looked at the first receptionist.
She had the kind of composure that comes from years of practice — the kind that holds right up until it doesn't.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Dana," she said.
Her voice was almost steady.
"Dana.
When you told me to find a cheap motel — was that the instruction you were given, or was that your own contribution?"
Her chin lifted slightly.
"I was told the reservation didn't exist."
"That's not what I asked."
A long pause.
"I used my own judgment about how to communicate it."
"I see." I turned to her colleague.
"And you?"
"Renata," the woman said quietly.
"I just — I followed Dana's lead.
I shouldn't have."
Renata's hands were clasped in front of her.
Dana's were at her sides, perfectly still.
I looked at Lupita, who had not moved from her spot near the elevator.
She was watching me carefully, the towels still folded over her arm.
"Lupita," I said.
"Go put those down.
Then come back, please."
She nodded and disappeared into the service corridor.
I turned back to Harrison.
"My brother's name is in the ownership documents as a minority shareholder.
Nothing more.
He has no operational authority over any property in this group.
You know that."
"I know that."
"Then you also know that following his instruction — even partially — was a serious error."
"Yes." Harrison met my eyes.
"I know that too."
Lily made a small sound on the sofa.
I glanced over.
She had pulled the rabbit tighter but hadn't woken.
"Book us into the Sarah Vance Suite," I said.
"Tonight."
Harrison nodded immediately.
"And don't touch anything else until I tell you to."
He nodded again.
Lupita came back without the towels.
She stood near the elevator, hands folded, waiting.
I was about to speak when my phone buzzed.
A text.
No greeting.
Four words.
*Did you get in?*
My brother's number.
He was watching the clock.
Which meant he needed me out of this building for a reason he hadn't put in the email.
May you like
I set the phone face-down on the sofa cushion beside Lily.
Whatever he needed me away from — it was still here.
