For a moment, I couldn’t process it.
Miles Chen had never told me “no” in four years. He was the kind of manager who could run a ballroom flip with a broken AC unit and still have the place looking flawless by sunset. He was loyal, steady, and meticulous.
So why was he refusing a direct order from the owner?
My thumb hovered over the call button again. Before I could hit it, another email arrived—this one from a corporate-looking address I didn’t recognize: [email protected]
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Subject: Event Confirmation — Diane Patterson Retirement Weekend
My heart stuttered.
I opened it. It confirmed my mother’s reservation, listed her selected package, and—what made my blood turn cold—showed the event was marked “VIP APPROVED” with a note: Override authorized.
Override. Authorized by who?
I called Miles again. He answered on the first ring, voice tight.
“Harper,” he said, “I was about to call you.”
“Explain,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.
He exhaled. “Someone from ‘Seabrook Cove Partners’ contacted the front desk and finance. They claimed they represent ownership interests and instructed us not to cancel. They said your email was ‘emotional’ and not valid.”
My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “There is no ‘Partners.’”
Miles hesitated. “They sent documents.”
“What documents?” I asked.
“A letter on legal letterhead,” he said. “It claims there’s a partial transfer pending and that Diane Patterson has authority for events this weekend.”
My stomach dropped. “Pending transfer?” I repeated, each word sharp. “Miles, no one can transfer anything without my signature.”
There was a silence filled by the faint sounds of the lobby behind him—rolling suitcases, a distant laugh, normal life continuing while mine tried to collapse.
“I didn’t want to alarm you,” he said carefully, “but they also asked for access to internal guest lists and room blocks.”
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