“No deleted emails.”
His gaze moved across the executives.
“If anyone changes normal procedure because I’m here, I’ll consider that interference.”
The Regional President nodded.
“Yes, Chairman.”
The Chairman looked toward the Manager.
“You wanted me removed.”
The Manager said nothing.
The Chairman continued:
“Now you’re going to show me the hotel.”
The presidential suite was ready.
Of course it was.
Fresh flowers.
Champagne.
Fruit.
Handwritten welcome card.
The Chairman stood inside the entrance.
Read the card.
Welcome back.
He laughed once.
The Hotel Director looked embarrassed.
“Sir…”
The Chairman placed the card down.
“Who wrote this?”
“Guest relations.”
“Before or after the lobby incident?”
The Director hesitated.
“After.”
The Chairman nodded.
“Throw it away.”
The Director did.
The Chairman walked toward the windows.
Manhattan spread below.
Beautiful.
Expensive.
Untouchable.
He had spent half his life building a company that sold people the feeling that, for a night, they could step outside ordinary life.
But luxury without dignity was merely decoration.
He turned.
“Bring me the complaint files.”
“All twenty-three.”
“And the ones that never reached regional.”
The Director hesitated.
“How would we identify those?”
The Chairman looked at him.
“Ask the staff.”
The first employee came to him at 10:40.
Housekeeping.
Mid-fifties.
Twenty-two years with the company.
She refused to sit at first.
The Chairman insisted.
She sat.
Hands folded tightly.
“Tell me what I don’t know.”
She looked toward the door.
“It’s locked.”
He said.
“Nobody knows you’re here except corporate.”
She swallowed.
Then began.
The Manager cut overtime selectively.
Not illegal by itself.
But he made housekeepers complete unrealistic room quotas.
When they failed, he wrote them up.
When luxury guests complained, housekeeping was blamed before investigation.
Missing minibar items were sometimes charged against staff gratuity pools.
The Chairman’s eyes narrowed.
“Sometimes?”
She opened her handbag.
Removed copies.
The Chairman stared.
“You’ve been collecting this.”
“For eight months.”
“Why didn’t you report?”
“I did.”
“To who?”
She named Human Resources.
Then the Hotel Director.
Then regional.
The Chairman looked toward the complaint list.
None of her reports were there.
“Do you have copies?”
“Yes.”
“Give me everything.”
She did.
Before leaving, she stopped at the door.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Are you really going to stay forty-eight hours?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Then don’t stay upstairs.”
The Chairman looked at her.
“Where?”
“Service floors.”
He understood.
At noon, the Chairman changed clothes.
Not into a suit.
Into a hotel maintenance uniform borrowed from facilities.
Dark trousers.
Work shirt.
Simple jacket.
No badge.
The Regional President stared.
“Sir, this may not be appropriate.”
The Chairman buttoned the cuff.