The main lobby of the Grand Meridian Hotel was crowded that evening.
Business travelers hurried toward the elevators, families gathered around the reception desk, and several guests stood near the enormous glass windows overlooking the city. Outside, rain slid down the windows in silver streams, reflecting the bright lights of passing cars.
At the center of the lobby, a young man in a dark jacket stood facing a security guard.
His name was Noah Bennett.
He was twenty-three years old, thin, slightly pale, and visibly exhausted. His dark hair was still wet from the rain. A visitor identification card hung around his neck, and he held a small black backpack tightly against his chest.
The security guard, whose name was Victor Hale, was considerably older and much broader. His uniform was perfectly pressed, his expression stern, and his voice loud enough to attract the attention of everyone nearby.
"I already told you to step away from the entrance," Victor said.
Noah looked confused.
"I explained that I'm waiting for someone."
"Waiting for someone doesn't give you permission to stand here."
"I'm not blocking anyone."
Victor pointed toward the reception desk.
"Then go over there and explain yourself."
"I already showed them my invitation."
"Your invitation doesn't look legitimate."
Noah frowned.
"Why would I make a fake invitation?"
Victor gave a humorless laugh.
"That's what people usually say when they get caught."
A few guests turned to watch.
Noah lowered his voice.
"Could we please discuss this somewhere private?"
Victor shook his head.
"No. If you have nothing to hide, you shouldn't mind explaining yourself in front of everyone."
Noah glanced around.
Several people were watching him with curiosity. A woman standing near the elevator whispered something to her husband. A businessman lifted his phone, apparently recording the confrontation.
Noah felt his face growing warm.
He had not done anything wrong.
He had arrived at the hotel because he had been invited to an important meeting. He had followed the instructions in the invitation, checked in at reception, and received a temporary visitor badge.
But Victor had decided almost immediately that he did not belong.
And now the entire lobby was watching.
"Please," Noah said. "Can you call the person who invited me?"
Victor folded his arms.
"Who invited you?"
"Mr. Edward Whitmore."
Victor laughed.
"Edward Whitmore?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any idea who that is?"
Noah nodded.
"He's the person I'm here to meet."
Victor looked at the young man's clothes, his inexpensive backpack, and his worn sneakers.
Then he shook his head.
"Listen, kid. Important people don't invite strangers like you into private meetings."
Noah swallowed.
"I'm not a stranger to him."
"Then prove it."
Noah reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.
Before he could unlock it, Victor grabbed his wrist.
"Don't start taking pictures."
"I'm not taking pictures. I'm trying to call him."
Victor released his wrist.
"Put the phone away."
Noah stared at him.
"Why are you treating me like this?"
"Because I have a job to do."
"And what exactly did I do wrong?"
Victor leaned closer.
"You've been standing here for fifteen minutes. You refuse to leave. You keep giving different explanations. And now you're pretending to know one of the richest men in the country."
Noah's expression changed.
"I never pretended anything."
Victor pointed toward the exit.
"One more minute. Then you're out."
Noah looked down at his visitor badge.
He wanted to leave.