Chapter 2 - The View from the Ninth Floor
The private elevator to the executive suite moved in silent, effortless grace, the floor numbers ticking up in soft golden light. Inside, the quiet was absolute.
Lupita stood near the control panel, holding the vase of water as if it were made of glass spun from gold. She kept her eyes lowered out of professional respect, but her mind was racing. For six years she had scrubbed the marble, vacuumed the thick wool carpets, and replaced the Egyptian cotton linens of the Grand Regent. She knew the names of the corporate board members from the internal newsletters, but Ethan Vance was a ghost—a legend who built an empire of luxury after starting as a night auditor in a small Ohio inn.
Lily stirred on Ethan’s shoulder, rubbing her eyes with a small, balled fist. "Daddy? Is this the room?"
"Almost, sweetheart," Ethan murmured, kissing the top of her head. "We're going up to the top floor."
"Is Mommy's room up high?"
"The highest," Ethan whispered.
The elevator chimed, and the brass doors slid open to reveal the quiet carpeted corridor of the ninth floor. Suite 904 sat at the very end—the grand corner suite overlooking Lake Michigan and the snow-dusted skyline of downtown Chicago.
Lupita stepped forward, using her master keycard to open the heavy mahogany door. She stepped inside first, switching on the soft, warm perimeter lighting rather than the harsh overheads, instantly creating a gentle, welcoming atmosphere.
"I can set the flowers on the dining table, sir," Lupita said quietly, taking the brown paper package from Ethan’s hand with delicate care.
"Thank you, Lupita," Ethan said. He walked into the master bedroom, carefully laying Lily onto the king-sized bed. He pulled off her small winter boots, untied her scarf, and pulled the soft down duvet over her shoulders. She sighed, her thumb slipping into her mouth as she sank into sleep, exhausted from the long flight and the late hour.
Ethan stood beside the bed for a long moment, watching the soft rise and fall of his daughter's chest. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, framed photograph. It was Sarah, smiling under a bright summer sun in a field of red roses outside their first home in Denver.
He set the photograph on the nightstand beside Lily.
When he stepped back out into the suite's living room, Lupita had carefully arranged the red roses in the crystal vase. She had straightened the bent stem with a tiny, invisible wire thread from her sewing kit and placed the two fallen petals neatly at the base of the crystal stand.
"They look beautiful, Lupita," Ethan said softly.
"Flowers have memory, Mr. Vance," Lupita said, wiping her hands on her apron. "If you treat them with patience, they stay alive longer than people expect."
Ethan walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the icy streets below. "How long have you lived in Chicago, Lupita?"
"Twenty-two years, sir. Ever since my husband passed away. My daughter goes to university here—she's studying to be a civil engineer."
"And how does the Grand Regent treat its staff?"
Lupita hesitated. She looked at the door, then back at the powerful man standing in the shadow of the window. "Mr. Sterling... the General Manager... he cares very much about the numbers, sir. He likes the hotel to look perfect for the investors. But he doesn't spend much time on the lower floors."
"He cares about gold walls," Ethan said flatly.
"Yes, sir," Lupita admitted softly. "He cut the night shift maintenance budget three months ago. The staff breakroom hasn't had heat since November. We brought our own space heaters from home."
Ethan’s jaw set. The coldness returned to his eyes.
"A breakroom without heat in a Chicago winter," Ethan repeated, his voice dangerously smooth. "While the lobby chandelier burns forty thousand watts of electricity every night."
The phone on the suite’s marble desk rang. It was a single, discreet chime.
Ethan picked it up. "Vance."
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"Mr. Vance," Patricia's trembling voice came through the speaker. "Mr. Sterling has just arrived in the lobby. He... he is waiting for you."
"Tell him to stay in the lobby," Ethan said. "And tell him to stand right under the chandelier."
