I hated that he was still capable of matching me.
I hated even more that some part of me still felt safer because he was there.
At the twelfth-floor landing, Charles’s radio crackled.
“Mr. Whitmore?””
He stopped.
“Yes?””
Static.
Then Thomas’s voice.
“We have Mrs. Bennett’s son.””
I almost collapsed with relief.
“Where?”” I grabbed the radio.
Thomas answered immediately.
“Mrs. Bennett?””
“Yes. Where is Noah?””
“Room 1901.””
I looked at Charles.
“Why is he in a room?””
Thomas sounded confused.
“A woman from executive services came to the dining room right before the power went out. She said you instructed us to move him.””
“I did not.””
Dad’s face went pale.
“What woman?””
Thomas answered.
“Vanessa.””
My stomach dropped.
“She’s with you?””
“No.””
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“What do you mean, no?””
“She brought us into the suite, then said she needed to check the hallway. The door locked behind her.””
“Is Noah okay?””
“Yes. He’s scared, but he’s okay.””
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Stay with him.””
“I will.””
I gave the radio back.
Then I ran faster.
Dad grabbed the railing.
“Maya, think.””
“I am thinking.””
“Vanessa might be following instructions.””
“From her father?””
“Maybe.””
“Or from someone else?””
Dad didn’t answer.
We reached nineteen.
Charles swiped his master key.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
“Electronic locks are offline,” he said.
I stared at him.
“Emergency override?””
“Mechanical key.””
“Where?””
“Security.””
“Downstairs?””
“Yes.””
I wanted to hit something.
Then Dad took the old brass key from his pocket.
Charles stared at it.
“That won’t open modern locks.””
Dad looked toward the end of the corridor.
“It might open one.””
My skin prickled.
“What are you talking about?””
He walked past Room 1901.
“Dad.””
He continued toward a narrow decorative panel between two framed paintings.
He pressed the edge.
The panel opened.
Behind it was an old wooden door.
Not hotel-modern.
Older.
Original architecture.
A brass lock sat beneath the handle.
I stared at the key.
“No.””
Dad inserted it.
The lock turned.
My mouth went dry.
“What is this?””
“A service passage built when the hotel opened in 1928.””
“How do you know?””
“Your mother showed me.””
Charles looked stunned.
“I’ve managed this property fourteen years.””
Dad pushed the door open.
“You weren’t supposed to know.””
A narrow corridor stretched beyond it.
Unpainted brick.
Old pipes.
Emergency bulbs.
Dust.
We stepped inside.
The hidden passage ran behind the guest rooms.
Dad counted doors.
“Five. Six. Seven.””
He stopped.
“This one.””
A small metal panel bore faded numbers.
*1901*
Charles pulled it open.
Behind it was a maintenance access door.
He knocked.
“Thomas!””
Movement inside.
Then a voice.
“Mr. Whitmore?””
“Move away.””
Charles forced the rusted latch with his shoulder.
Once.
Twice.
On the third attempt, it broke.
We stumbled into the Presidential Suite.
Noah ran toward me.
“Mom!””
I dropped to my knees and wrapped him in both arms.
His face buried against my neck.
“I thought you left.””
“Never.””
“You promise?””
“I promise.””
I held him tighter.
Thomas stood near the windows, visibly shaken.
“I’m sorry.””
“This wasn’t your fault.””
Dad entered behind us.
Noah looked at him.
“Grandpa, the lights are broken.””
Dad crouched.
“They’ll fix them.””
Noah pointed toward the bedroom.
“The lady went in there first.””
My body stiffened.
“What lady?””
“Vanessa.””
Thomas frowned.
“She did?””
Noah nodded.
“She told me to stay with Thomas, but she went into the bedroom before she left.””
I stood.
Charles moved ahead of me.
“Stay here.””
“No.””
I entered the bedroom.
At first, nothing looked unusual.
King bed.
Silk curtains.
Darkened city skyline beyond the windows.
Then I saw it.
One bedside drawer was open.
I walked closer.
Inside lay a white envelope.
My name was written across the front.
*MAYA*
Dad appeared behind me.
“Don’t touch it.””
I laughed once.
“You’ve been saying that a lot tonight.””
“Maya.””
I picked it up.
The envelope wasn’t sealed.
Inside was a photograph.
My mother.
Alive.
Standing in this exact bedroom.
The timestamp in the bottom corner was dated two days after the day I had been told she died.