“Know her?” Harris scoffed loudly. “Darren, you arrogant idiot. This woman’s late husband donated the land that our police precinct is built on. She personally funds the city’s youth shelters. She owns half the real estate on this block, including the floor you’re currently standing on.”
Trent grabbed the edge of the counter, his knees physically buckling as the reality of his situation crashed down on him.
Evelyn stood up from the computer. She picked up her folded receipt from the counter and handed it directly to Captain Harris.
“Captain,” Evelyn said softly, her voice cold as ice. “This man just charged me fourteen hundred dollars for a room, and then threatened to have me sleep in my truck in a blizzard. But more importantly...”
She pointed at the computer screen.
“Don’t move another inch, Mr. Vale,” Captain Harris commanded. His hand moved to his radio, but his eyes never left Darren’s panicked face.
Darren was backed up against his office door, shaking like a leaf. “This is a misunderstanding! This is an illegal search! You don’t have a warrant for those computers!”
“I don’t need a warrant, Darren,” Evelyn said smoothly, stepping out from behind the counter. “I own the computers. I own the servers. I own the chair you sit in. And as of this exact second, I own your immediate future.”
Trent burst into tears. It was pathetic. The young clerk, who only twenty minutes ago had smugly thrown Evelyn's room key into a drawer, dropped to his knees right there in the lobby.
“Mrs. Mercer, please!” Trent sobbed, grabbing at the hem of her faded winter coat. “I didn’t want to do it! Darren said if I didn’t help him skim the cash, he would fire me! I have student loans! Please don’t send me to jail!”
Evelyn looked down at Trent. There was no pity in her eyes, only a quiet, resolute judgment.
“You had a choice, Trent,” she said softly. “When I stood here, shivering, asking for a room, you didn’t just follow orders. You enjoyed humiliating me. You enjoyed holding power over someone you thought was weak. Your greed is your own.”
She looked at Captain Harris. “Arrest him.”
The two younger officers immediately hauled Trent to his feet, slapping the cold metal handcuffs around his wrists. He wailed as they marched him toward the freezing glass doors, his cries fading as they shoved him into the back of a squad car.
Darren watched Trent get hauled away, his breath hitching. He tried to straighten his tailored jacket, trying desperately to salvage a shred of dignity.
“Fine,” Darren spat, his face red with humiliation. “You caught us. Fire me. Sue me. I don’t care. But I am exercising my right to remain silent, and I am leaving this property.”
He took a bold step toward the exit.
“Stop him,” Evelyn said.
Captain Harris stepped directly in Darren’s path, putting a firm, heavy hand on the General Manager's chest. “You’re not going anywhere, son.”
“You can’t hold me here!” Darren screamed, spittle flying from his lips. “I want my lawyer!”
Just then, the heavy glass doors of the lobby slid open again.
A sleek black SUV had pulled up behind the police cruisers. A tall man in a dark trench coat rushed in, shaking the snow from his umbrella. It was Marcus Vance, the VP of Operations. He had driven eighty miles through a blizzard the second Darren hung up the red phone.
Marcus took one look at Evelyn, then looked at Darren, who was being restrained by the police chief.
Marcus walked right up to Darren and delivered a hard, open-handed slap across Darren’s face.
Smack.
The sound echoed off the marble walls. Maya gasped. Even Captain Harris raised an eyebrow.
“You absolute parasite,” Marcus hissed, his voice shaking with pure rage. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”