Upon hearing the name Jonathan Hayes, Richard’s smirk began to flicker. He knew that name. Every executive in the hospitality industry knew that name. Jonathan Hayes was the feared, legendary titan who governed the parent board of Vance Global Enterprises. But Richard quickly reassured himself—this old woman was clearly bluffing, using a namedrop to scare him.
"Jonathan," Eleanor continued, her eyes fixed entirely on Richard Davenport, whose face was slowly losing its color. "I have just spent the last three hours observing the operations here. I watched an exceptional, hardworking staff member named Maya Lin be verbally abused and physically assaulted with a glass of water by a guest named Victoria Sterling. And then, I watched the General Manager, Richard Davenport, intervene."
On the other end of the line, Jonathan Hayes held his breath, his pulse spiking. "What did Davenport do, Madam?"
"He insulted the victim, ignored my eyewitness account, threatened to call security on me, and fired the young woman without cause or severance to curry favor with the aggressor," Eleanor said, her voice dropping an octave into pure ice. "He demonstrated that this flagship establishment is managed not by principles of hospitality, but by cowardice, cruelty, and sycophancy."
Richard’s heart dropped into his stomach. The absolute confidence in her voice, the way she spoke to someone claiming to be Hayes—it was beginning to break through his denial. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead.
"Madam Vance," Hayes said, his voice trembling through the phone's speaker, which Eleanor had deliberately clicked onto speakerphone mode. "Please tell me what you require. The entire board is at your immediate disposal."
"Place the board on a bridge call immediately," Eleanor commanded. "And inform Mr. Davenport who he is speaking to."
"Yes, Madam!"
A loud tone sounded through the phone, followed by a brief, three-second silence before four distinct, panicked voices—the senior executive board members of Vance Global—joined the line in a conference call.
"Madam Vance! We are here!" the voice of Chief Financial Officer Marcus Vance rang out clear and panicked.
Eleanor held the phone out slightly so Richard and Victoria could hear every single word.
"Mr. Davenport," Jonathan Hayes’ voice boomed from the speaker, sharp enough to slice through steel. "You are speaking to Eleanor Vance. Principal Shareholder, Founder, and Absolute Owner of Vance Global Enterprises. The woman whose name is on the deed of the building you are standing in, and the owner of the bank that holds your hotel's operational accounts."
The silence in the grand lobby became absolute.
Richard Davenport’s face went from pale to a deathly, ghastly white. His knees buckled slightly, his hands trembling violently as he stared at the elderly woman in the simple cardigan. Eleanor Vance. The reclusive billionaire matriarch who owned thirty percent of the city's real estate, a woman who hadn't been seen in public for years and whose net worth was estimated at over forty billion dollars. She was the secret, ultimate owner of the Grandview Hotel.
Beside him, Victoria Sterling’s arrogant smile shattered into pure horror. Her family’s company, Sterling Global Media, relied entirely on credit lines extended by Vance Financial Corp.
"N-No..." Richard choked out, his voice a squeaking, pathetic shadow of its former authority. "Madam Vance... I... I had no idea... I was simply trying to manage a high-profile guest—"
"Silence, Davenport," Eleanor said, cutting him off with the precision of a scalpel. She spoke directly into the phone. "Jonathan, execute the following orders immediately."
"Awaiting your command, Madam," Hayes responded instantly.
"First: Terminate Richard Davenport’s employment contract with Vance Global immediately, for cause. Strip him of all stock options, revoke his executive pension, and have our legal team launch a full audit of his management expenses over his entire tenure. If a single penny is unaccounted for, sue him to the absolute limit of the law."
"No! Please! Madam Vance, mercy!" Richard shrieked, dropping to his knees on the carpet, his hands clasped together, all his former arrogance dissolving into pathetic, sobbing terror. "I have a mortgage! My reputation! Please!"
"Second," Eleanor continued, completely deaf to his pleas. "Effective immediately, revoke all credit lines and corporate partnerships with Sterling Global Media. Issue a global ban for Victoria Sterling across all Vance Global properties worldwide—hotels, resorts, airlines, and private clubs. If she steps foot on any of our properties again, have her arrested for trespassing."
"You can't do this!" Victoria shrieked, her voice cracking in pure panic as she took a step back, her mind racing to the catastrophic financial ruin her family was about to face when their credit lines were frozen. "My father will—"
"Your father will be calling our legal department by five o'clock to ask for mercy," Eleanor said coldly, turning her gaze onto Victoria. "And he will find none."
"It is done, Madam Vance," Jonathan Hayes’ voice came through the phone clearly. "Security teams and legal council are already processing the orders. Is there anything else?"