She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.
“You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that.”
Richard frowned.
“Rosa, who are you calling?”
She selected a contact.
Then she raised the phone.
“Dad… they just fired me. Can you come down?”
For the first time, Marcus’s expression shifted.
Richard looked uneasy.
Walter watched Rosa carefully.
She ended the call with a small, satisfied smile.
“You should’ve waited before making that decision.”
Ten minutes later, another elevator opened.
An older white man stepped into the lobby.
Around sixty-five, silver-haired and impeccably dressed, he carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who knew the hotel well.
Richard recognized him immediately.
“Mr. Whitmore.”
Marcus did too.
Charles Whitmore had spent nearly thirty years in the hotel industry.
He had once served as regional operations director before retiring. He still sat on an advisory committee for several properties and was well known among senior staff.
Rosa’s expression brightened.
“Dad.”
Charles walked toward her.
“What happened?”
Rosa immediately pointed toward Marcus.
“He fired me because some man came in looking like he didn’t belong and caused a scene.”
Walter remained silent.
Charles looked toward him.
Then toward Marcus.
Then toward Richard.
“What exactly happened?”
Rosa answered quickly.
“I was protecting the hotel. That man came in dressed like that, claimed he had a luxury reservation, and refused to leave until his son showed up threatening everyone.”
Marcus said nothing.
Richard looked uncomfortable.
Charles turned toward him.
“Richard?”
Richard answered carefully.
“She never checked the reservation.”
Rosa’s face changed.
Richard continued.
“She had security escort Mr. Brooks outside.”
Charles looked toward Walter.
“Mr. Brooks?”
Marcus stepped forward.
“My father.”
Charles stared at Marcus.
Then realization hit him.
“You’re Marcus Brooks.”
“Yes.”
Rosa looked between them.
Her smile began disappearing.