Chapter 3 - The Midnight Phone Call
The clock on the wall of the subterranean employee locker room ticked loudly, its rhythmic sound matching the frantic beating of Rebecca’s heart. The room smelled faintly of industrial cleaning supplies and stale coffee. Sitting on a gray metal bench, Rebecca clutched her phone so tightly her knuckles turned bone-white.
She had been fired—humiliated, stripped of her badge, and cast aside like broken glass—all because of some man in a cheap jacket and his annoying kid. But as the shock began to wear off, burning, toxic rage took its place.
Rebecca didn’t care that Ethan Carter owned the hotel. In her twisted, vindictive mind, Ethan was just a pretentious snob who liked playing mind games with working-class people. Why would a billionaire dress like a beggar? It made no sense! To her, it felt like a setup, a cruel trap designed specifically to ruin her career.
"I won't let him win," she whispered fiercely to the empty room. "I know too much. I've seen too much."
During her five years at the front desk, Rebecca hadn't just checked in guests; she had managed special requests for high-ranking executives, processed confidential billing exceptions, and occasionally overheard whispered conversations in private VIP lounges. She knew that the hotel’s glamorous exterior hid a mountain of dirty laundry. And her primary handler for those special, off-the-books favors hadn't been Mr. Harrison.
It was Mr. Julian Vance, the Chief Operations Officer.
Rebecca’s fingers shook as she dialed a private, twelve-digit number that was strictly saved in her head. It was Vance’s direct personal line—a number he had explicitly told her to use only in absolute emergencies.
The phone rang three times before a gruff, irritated voice answered on the other end.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Julian Vance snapped, his voice raspy with sleep and annoyance. "This better be good, Rebecca. If you're calling about another scheduling conflict, handle it yourself."
"Mr. Vance! Thank God you picked up," Rebecca blurted out, her voice cracking with suppressed panic and anger. "I've been fired. I need your help."
There was a sharp pause on the line. The heavy breathing of the COO stopped instantly. When Vance spoke again, his tone had shifted from sleepy annoyance to cold, calculating sharpness.
"Fired? Explain yourself right now. Who authorized that? Harrison?"
"Yes! Mr. Harrison fired me ten minutes ago!" Rebecca cried, tears spilling over again. "And you won't believe why. Some vagrant walked into the lobby with a little girl, wearing rags, and demanded the Presidential Suite. I did my job! I told him he couldn't afford it! And then... and then Harrison showed up and bowed to him. Vance... he told me the man owns the hotel."
Silence stretched across the phone line for so long that Rebecca wondered if the call had disconnected.
"What did you say?" Vance's voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. "A man in rags? Demanded the Presidential Suite?"
"Yes! His name... his name was Ethan Carter!"
The moment those words left Rebecca’s lips, the air pressure on the other end of the line seemed to change. Julian Vance sat bolt upright in his king-sized bed in his luxurious penthouse across town, sleep completely banished from his eyes. His heart hammered against his ribs.
Ethan Carter? The supreme boss? The ghost who had vanished from corporate headquarters for over a year, leaving Vance to run the empire as he saw fit—and siphon millions of dollars into offshore accounts unchecked?
"Are you absolutely certain?" Vance demanded, his voice trembling slightly with sudden, overwhelming dread. "Ethan Carter is back?"
"He's here! Upstairs in the Presidential Suite right now!" Rebecca sobbed. "Mr. Vance, you have to help me get my job back! Or I swear to God, I'll tell everyone about the off-the-books billing accounts I processed for you last month! I have the receipts, Julian. I kept copies of everything!"
A cold sweat broke out across Vance's forehead. Blackmail. The little receptionist he had used and manipulated was now threatening him with financial ruin and prison time.
If Ethan Carter was back in the building, and if he started auditing the financial books—which Vance knew were heavily falsified—everything he had stolen and built over the past year would crumble into dust. He would lose his career, his status, his freedom.
"Listen to me very carefully, Rebecca," Vance said, his voice dropping into a low, venomous hiss. "Do not leave the hotel. Stay right in the lobby lounge. Do not do anything stupid, do not talk to anyone else, and do not mention my name to a single soul."
"Are you going to fix this?" Rebecca sniffled, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. "Can you get me reinstated?"
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"I'll do better than that," Vance lied smoothly, a dark, sinister smile spreading across his face in the darkness of his bedroom. "Just wait for me. I'm coming to the hotel right now."
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