Chương 5
Reina saw them first.
“Keep walking,” she said.
The photographer raised his camera. “Elena? Can we ask you about Adrian Voss?”
Elena stopped.
Reina cursed softly.
The young man smiled with practiced concern. “We just want your side. Were you involved with both brothers?”
Elena’s face emptied.
Reina stepped between them. “She has nothing to say.”
“Did the hotel threaten your job?”
“Move.”
“Is the baby a Voss heir?”
Elena pressed the hospital envelope against her stomach. The baby shifted beneath it.
The photographer took three rapid pictures.
Reina slapped her palm over the lens. “I said move.”
The photographer recoiled. “Don’t touch my equipment.”
“Then stop pointing it at her body.”
A neighbor opened the building door from inside. Elena moved past him without speaking. Reina followed, then held the door closed while the photographer asked questions through the glass.
Upstairs, Elena locked both dead bolts.
The apartment was warm. The radiator had begun clanking even though the night was mild. A bowl containing three bruised apples sat on the kitchen counter beside an unpaid electricity bill.
Reina filled a glass of water.
Elena remained by the door.
“Sit down,” Reina said.
“I’ve been ordered to sit by enough people tonight.”
“Fine. Stand rebelliously while drinking this.”
Elena took the glass.
Her phone rang.
Her mother’s name filled the screen.
Elena answered before voicemail could begin.
“Hi, Mom.”
“What did you do?”
Not Are you safe. Not Is the baby all right.
Elena closed her eyes.
“I went to work.”
“I saw a video. Mrs. Hennessey sent it. She asked whether you were carrying that man’s child.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why were you talking to him like that?”
“Because the father was his brother.”
Silence.
Even the radiator seemed to pause.
Her mother spoke more softly. “The one who died?”
“Yes.”
“You told me his name was Noah. You did not tell me Noah Voss.”
“I knew what you would say.”
“What I would say is that wealthy families do not let women like us become family. They make agreements.”
“Thank you for proving my judgment.”
“Elena, don’t be childish. Are you asking them for money?”
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
She looked at the cream envelope in her hand.
“I want the baby’s heart to be okay.”
Her mother’s breath changed. “What happened?”
Elena sat at last.
Reina took the glass before it spilled.
By midnight, Adrian had read every email Noah sent to the foundation account.
There were eleven.
The early messages were careful. Noah identified himself as a former operations employee and described missed meal breaks, inconsistent time records, and an attendance review system that supervisors applied differently across departments. He included no dramatic language and asked for an independent audit.
The fourth email mentioned Elena only by initial.
E.M. can provide records from banquet scheduling if she feels protected. She is worried about retaliation and has reasons not to lose insurance.
The later messages became less organized. Noah accused Martin Keene of threatening two housekeepers. He accused Adrian of caring more about a merger than the people who changed sheets beneath it. He apologized for the wording, then repeated it.
In the tenth email, sent at 2:13 in the morning, he wrote that he had something personal to tell Adrian but would not put it in writing.
The eleventh arrived six hours later.
Ignore last night. I was angry. I’m not trying to blow up his life. Do not forward any of this to Adrian yet. I’ll handle it.
Camille had replied that the employment concerns had been referred to Human Resources.
Noah had answered with one sentence.
That’s like reporting a fire to the man selling matches.
Adrian printed the emails because paper felt less easy to escape. He carried them to the executive conference room, where Martin Keene waited with the general manager and outside counsel.
Martin was fifty-six, silver-haired, and famous within the company for remembering birthdays. He stood when Adrian entered.
“I understand tonight was difficult,” Martin began.
“Why was Elena Marlow suspended?”
Martin glanced at counsel. “She was placed on temporary administrative leave while we determine whether confidential information was disclosed during a hotel event.”
“What confidential information?”
“Her personal association with your family.”
“That is her information.”
“It occurred while she was on duty.”
“She was pushing coffee.”
“She initiated a confrontation with the owner in a guest-facing area.”
“I initiated it.”
Martin’s polite expression flickered. “That distinction may not be apparent on video.”
“It is apparent to me.”
The outside lawyer, Dana Cho, folded her hands. “We should separate the employment issue from the family issue.”
“Good,” Adrian said. “Reinstate her.”
“We need to review whether other staff rules were implicated.”
“Which rules?”
Martin opened a folder. “Abandoning an assigned station. Inappropriate interaction with guests. Refusal to follow supervisory direction.”
“She spoke to me.”
“You are also a guest-facing principal.”
Adrian placed Noah’s printed emails on the table. “Did you investigate these complaints?”
Martin did not touch the pages.
“I reviewed them.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“The accusations were not substantiated.”
“Who did you interview?”
“Department managers.”
“Any employees?”
“We reviewed available records.”
“Did you interview Elena?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She was not formally named.”
“Her initials are here.”
“Many employees have those initials.”
Adrian stared at him.
Martin adjusted his cuff. “Noah was in an unstable period. He withdrew the complaint.”
“He asked Camille not to forward it to me. He did not withdraw the employment claims.”
“He said to ignore the previous night.”
“The previous night included a personal disclosure, not all eleven emails.”
Dana lifted one of the pages. “Martin, preserve every payroll, scheduling, attendance, and disciplinary record related to the banquet department and the staffing contractor Noah referenced.”
Martin’s face changed.
It was small, but Adrian saw it.
“What?” Adrian asked.
“There may be retention limitations,” Martin said.
“What does that mean?”
“The contractor maintains some records independently.”
“Then contact them.”
“They ceased operations in January.”
May you like
The room went quiet.
“Why?” Adrian asked.
