It was one of seven luxury hotels in the company he had built over eleven years. He often visited without warning, dressed plainly, just to see how his staff treated ordinary guests.
Before he could ask again, a housekeeper stepped out from a side door with folded towels. Her nametag read Lupita.
She saw the sleeping child, the bent roses, and the way the receptionists were looking at Ethan.
“Did you check the secondary corporate tab?” Lupita asked gently. “Executive bookings sometimes don’t show on the first search.”
Karla snapped, “Go back to your floor. This isn’t your department.”
Lupita didn’t move. “A tired father with a sleeping little girl is my business if he’s being left standing in the lobby.”
Patricia checked again.
Her face went pale.
“Suite 904,” she whispered. “Corporate reservation. Confirmed two weeks ago.”
Lupita looked at the roses. “They’re beautiful, sir. Are they for someone special?”
