“I have a reservation,” Ethan said softly. “Under Ethan Vance.”
The receptionist, Patricia, looked him over: worn leather jacket, stubble, scuffed backpack, tired eyes. Beside her, another employee named Karla crossed her arms.
Patricia typed. “Nothing here.”
“It was booked through the corporate office,” Ethan said. “Could you check the executive block?”
Karla laughed under her breath. “People think if they argue long enough, a luxury suite will magically appear.”
Patricia added, “We’re fully booked. Try one of the budget inns near the highway.”
Ethan kept his voice calm. “My daughter needs a bed. Please check again.”
Neither woman knew the truth.
The Grand Regent belonged to Ethan.
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