Chapter 4

Megan had a bag full of custom eye masks in one hand and three gold-tier membership cards in the other. The group headed for the door in high spirits, laughing loudly, suitcase wheels clattering across the marble floor.

Megan turned back and called out to me, "Rachel! We're leaving! This hotel's not bad. We'll come back again sometime!"

Victoria rolled her eyes at the front desk as she walked past it. "The service was nothing special. Way too slow bringing out the food."

Brett's dog suddenly broke free of its leash and bolted for the door, knocking over a vase on the welcome stand. Water spilled everywhere.

Paige Cohen, one of the staff, crouched down to clean it up. Brett ran after the leash and grabbed it, but instead of apologizing, he snapped at her, "Why would you even put a vase there? It almost tripped my dog!"

Paige kept her head down and said nothing, wiping up the water and the broken porcelain shards bit by bit with a rag.

That was when the manager on duty walked over, a long stack of bills in his hand, the paper trailing down almost to the floor.

"Everyone, please hold on a moment," he said. "Let's settle the account first."

Megan shoved me forward and waved a hand at him, "Bill her! This is the hotel's heiress. We're her classmates!"

I stood there with my hands in my pockets and tilted my head. "Employees don't actually have the authority to comp a bill for guests, you know."

Her face froze for a second before she forced a smile back on. "Don't be like this, Rachel. Let me talk to your manager..."

The manager didn't say a word. He just held the bill up in front of her.

"Do you even know who we are?" Megan snapped. "We're friends of Rachel Ford!"

"You really want to mess with us? Aren't you afraid your boss will fire you?" Sandra struck a haughty pose beside her.

I spread my hands and gave the manager a helpless look. He seemed to find it funny too.

"Everyone, this is a misunderstanding," he said. "The bill is still yours to settle. Venue fee, food, rooms, parting gifts, repairs, damages…

"Two million eight thousand six hundred dollars, all together."

The smile on Megan's face froze, then slowly collapsed.

The manager held the bill out to her again, his voice completely flat, "Whoever ordered it pays for it. It's all in writing, signed and dated."

He tipped his chin toward the front desk, and the young clerk there carried over a stack of signed receipts. Every single one had Megan's name written clearly across it.

Sandra hurled the voucher packet in her arms onto the floor. "What kind of garbage hotel is this? You're scamming us! Two million dollars? I'm filing a complaint!"

Victoria started shouting too, "This bill is fake! You're all in on this together! I'm calling the police!"

Todd slammed the chocolate box in his hands onto the floor. It burst open with a crash, truffles rolling everywhere. He pulled out his phone and started filming, shoving the camera in the manager's face.

"Everyone, look at this! The Windsor Grand is a scam operation! Ripping off customers! Bullying ordinary people! Jacking up prices on the spot! I'm posting this online!"

Spooked by the chaos, Brett's dog started barking wildly, racing back and forth between the revolving door and the lobby. Brett couldn't hold the leash any longer and just let go. The dog charged straight for the front desk and jumped up onto the counter.

The young clerk stumbled backward in fright, nearly falling over, the receipts in her hands scattering across the floor. The whole lobby dissolved into chaos.

Megan turned around and put the blame on me instead. "Rachel, do you really have to make things this hard on your old classmates? Money really has turned you cold, hasn't it?"

At her words, the crowd surged toward me, every single one of them looking at me like they wanted to tear me apart. Even Brett's dog started barking at me.

That was when the elevator doors on the right side of the lobby chimed open. A middle-aged man in a black shirt stepped out, a group of broad-shouldered bodyguards falling in behind him.

It was Vince Ford. The boss had arrived.

He was tall, and the air in the lobby seemed to sink lower the moment he started walking. His eyes swept over the wreckage scattered across the floor before settling on the unruly mob in front of him.

"Who's causing trouble in my hotel?"

The moment he spoke, the whole lobby went still, like nobody dared even breathe.