Chapter 2 - What His Sister Wouldn’t Say
Ryan locked his office door for the first time in nine years.
Ethan sat on the small sofa by the window wearing an oversized Linden House sweatshirt from the gift shop while his wet clothes tumbled in the housekeeping dryer downstairs.
Ryan had already spoken with the café staff.
Nobody had seen Ethan provoke Victoria.
Nobody believed the milk was accidental.
Maria Flores, the café supervisor, had been especially clear.
“She asked what time you usually came down.”
Ryan had stopped writing.
“When?”
“Maybe twenty minutes before it happened.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Maria looked sick.
“She said she had a complaint about service and wanted to speak with the manager. That isn’t unusual.”
It wasn’t.
That was precisely what bothered him.
Ryan called the hotel’s managing partner, Martin Shaw.
Voicemail.
He called the regional asset manager.
Voicemail.
Finally he called his sister.
Claire Mercer answered on the second ring.
“What happened?”
Not hello.
Not why are you calling.
Ryan stared at the phone.
“How do you know something happened?”
A pause.
“I’m at work, Ryan. People talk.”
Claire was the Linden House controller. At thirty-six, she had spent eleven years managing its finances and almost as many telling Ryan he cared too much about the building and not enough about what it cost to keep it alive.
“There’s a woman upstairs named Victoria Vale.”
Another pause.
Shorter this time.
“I know who she is.”
Ryan stood.
“Who is she?”
“A potential investor.”
“She says she owns this hotel tomorrow.”
Claire exhaled.
“Ryan—”
“Is the hotel being sold?”
“Not sold.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Ethan was watching him.
Ryan lowered his voice and walked toward the window.
“Is there a transaction?”
Claire waited long enough to answer him without words.
“There have been discussions.”
“How long?”
“I can’t talk about this over the phone.”
“You’ve had dinner at my house twice this week.”
“I know.”
“My kid just got a glass of milk dumped over his head by this woman.”
“What?”
Claire’s voice changed completely.
Ryan told her.
By the time he reached Victoria’s demand that Ethan kneel, Claire had stopped interrupting.
“Where is he?”
“With me.”
“I’m coming downstairs.”
“No. Answer the question first.”
“Ryan.”
“How long have you known?”
Claire whispered, “Ten days.”
He turned away from Ethan.
Their father, Peter Mercer, had been the Linden House’s general manager long before Ryan took the job. When Peter died six years earlier, the family had inherited a small ownership interest through an LLC: six percent for Ryan, six for Claire, three for their mother.
Not enough to control anything.
Enough that major financial decisions mattered.
The hotel had struggled through the pandemic, then through rising interest rates, labor shortages and a renovation loan that had become painfully expensive.
Ryan knew that.
What he hadn’t known was that selling had moved beyond discussion.
“You let me walk into that lobby blind.”
“I was under a confidentiality agreement.”
“I’m your brother.”
“I’m also the controller.”
“My son is seven.”
“That has nothing to do with—”
“It has everything to do with it now.”
Claire went silent.
Ryan heard an elevator outside his office.
Then Ethan spoke.
“She knew when you were coming.”
Ryan turned.
“What do you mean?”
Ethan hugged the oversized sweatshirt around himself.
“The lady asked me if my dad always came downstairs after his Thursday meeting.”
Ryan stared at him.
“How did she know I had a Thursday meeting?”
Ethan shrugged.
“She said somebody told her.”
Ryan lifted the phone again.
“Claire.”
His sister didn’t answer.
“Did you tell Victoria my schedule?”
“No.”
Too quickly.
Ryan knew Claire’s voice.
He had known it since she was five years old and blamed a broken kitchen window on a bird.
“Claire.”
“I have to come down.”
“Did you tell her?”
“I said no.”
Ryan looked through the office glass toward the elevator corridor.
Claire appeared thirty seconds later.
Gray suit.
Laptop bag.
Hair pulled back.
And an expression Ryan had seen only twice in his life.
Once when their father died.
Once when Claire’s husband’s construction company collapsed.
Fear.
Ryan opened the door.
Claire’s eyes went immediately to Ethan.
She crouched.
“Oh, buddy.”
Ethan moved closer to Ryan instead.
It was small.
Claire noticed.
So did Ryan.
She stood.
“We need to talk privately.”
“No more private conversations that affect my family.”
“Ryan, please.”
He waited.
Claire looked at Ethan.
Then at the closed office door.
“The buyer isn’t supposed to control anything yet.”
Ryan frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Victoria shouldn’t be giving instructions to staff. She shouldn’t be involving herself in operations. She definitely shouldn’t be targeting you.”
“Targeting me?”
Claire closed her eyes briefly.
Ryan stepped closer.
May you like
“You just used a word I didn’t use.”
Claire looked at him.
