“I want my attorney.”
“Your personal attorney is welcome to contact outside counsel.
Vesta’s corporate attorneys no longer represent you regarding this matter.”
My father looked toward the entrance, perhaps calculating whether he could leave with dignity.
The security officers made the calculation for him.
“Mr.Parker,” Daniel said, “because your executive access has been suspended, we need your company devices, access card, and Black Card.
You may retrieve personal belongings from your room under security supervision.”
Arthur picked up the card from the counter and held it tightly.
“This card has my name on it.”
“The account belongs to Vesta,” Margaret replied.
He looked at me.
There was hatred in his face, but beneath it was something smaller and more revealing.
Disbelief.
He had never imagined that I could become the person who said no and had the authority to make it remain no.
I held out my hand.
“Give her the card.”
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then Arthur dropped it onto the marble.
It struck once and slid toward Margaret.
Tiffany made a broken sound behind me.
“What about the suite? My guests have luggage upstairs.
The engagement dinner is tonight.”
Daniel answered professionally.
“The presidential suite was reserved through a revoked executive privilege.
The Henderson family may retain it at the public rate if a personal payment method is provided and the accommodation has not been frozen as part of the account review.”
Elena Henderson looked at her husband.
He shook his head once.
“We will not be staying in a room connected to an investigation,” he said.
Tiffany hurried toward Julian.
“Tell them we will pay for it ourselves.”
Julian did not reach for her.
“With what?” he asked quietly.
Her face tightened.
“I have money.”
“You told me your father was covering the wedding weekend because your family owned the group.
You told my parents the suite, dinner, and yacht were family benefits.”
“That is basically what they were.”
“No,” Julian said.
“They were company assets your father was using as personal gifts.”
Tiffany looked around, searching for someone who would rescue her.
My mother was pale and rigid.
My father was speaking rapidly into his phone, only to discover that his company service had already been suspended.
The relatives who had laughed when Tiffany handed me the tray suddenly found the marble floor fascinating.
