Elena had received one warning her that staff theft could affect future employment. Another mentioned Luis's weekend workplace. Neither identified its sender. Her lawyer advised her on preservation and reporting. She agreed to a formal statement, but not to being photographed or named publicly. “That is your choice,” I said. “We will protect it as far as we can.” Before she left, Elena hesitated at the door. “You asked for the suite today?” “Yes.” “They were due back there tonight.” My eyes went to Marcus. He stood up slowly. “Who's they?” he asked. Elena pointed at the man reflected in the balcony glass in one photograph. “Him. Eric called him Mr. Vale.”
Leila looked at the forged authorization again. The witness line bore the same surname. Part Seven — The Suite Above Us Marcus did not send a bellman upstairs to look around. He secured the suite against further entry while Leila contacted the outside forensic team and the appropriate authorities about the threats and suspected fraud. We owned the building. That did not make every document in it ours to handle carelessly.
The first temptation was to open every drawer and demand answers from everything inside. The better decision was slower. Record access. Preserve what was there. Keep people who might have altered it away. Let trained people work through the details. At ten twenty, Marcus received a call from the service entrance. “A visitor is asking for Mr. Dalton.” “Name?” He listened. Then he looked at us. “Adrian Vale.” For several seconds, none of us moved. “Let him know Mr. Dalton is unavailable,” Marcus said. “Don't detain him. Note the time and keep the entrance footage.” Leila picked up her phone. I stood by the conference room door, suddenly aware of how close the service stairs were. Marcus asked me to stay where I was. I disliked being told that, then understood why he was saying it. Vale waited at the entrance for less than four minutes.
He made two calls, walked back to a dark sedan, and left. There was no dramatic chase. The absence of drama did not make his visit less important. The outside investigators arrived near midnight. One was a former financial examiner named Tessa Lin. The other handled digital evidence. They introduced themselves, explained their scope, and asked for a clear separation between what we had collected and what we had only heard.
I appreciated Tessa's refusal to look impressed by my title. I finally entered the Presidential Suite at one in the morning, after the initial scene had been documented and we were told where we could stand. I had chosen the wallpaper for its sitting room four years earlier. Pale gray, with a pattern meant to suggest branches in mist. Owen teased me about spending two meetings discussing wallpaper while the roof needed work. He was right. We repaired the roof too, but I still remembered the argument. Now the suite smelled of cold coffee and rain-damp wool. There were no scattered stacks waiting to explain everything. Most of the table was bare. A shredder stood near the desk, its bin partly full. Folders remained in a locked credenza.
A printer held three sheets face down. Cups had been removed, leaving faint rings on the glass. Someone had tidied after Elena's visit. Tessa showed me a single page already logged and photographed. It was an occupancy summary prepared for the coming board discussion. The numbers appeared plausible at first glance. Then I saw the dates. They described sold rooms on nights I now knew the suite had been blocked by maintenance holds. “This may be a draft with errors,” Tessa said. “We need to compare it to the source records.” “Of course.” I respected her caution even while part of me wanted to call everything proof. The hotel overlooked a river. Across it, old warehouses had become apartments, studios, restaurants.
The Beaumont Crown occupied a parcel my father bought before anyone expected this neighborhood to become desirable. Behind the hotel, an unused annex and a row of company-owned service buildings sat on land now worth a fortune. Tomorrow's transaction was supposed to finance upgrades at several properties. Paul had described it as a strategic partnership: a secured facility, selected asset restructuring, operational efficiencies. Leila's team had been reviewing the main agreement, but a side authorization had bypassed their normal process by being presented as an earlier approval already settled through the executive committee. I remembered a conversation in London when Paul urged me not to let procedural detail delay the future.