2. The Call to Margaret
“Who are you calling?” Eleanor laughed, a sharp, mocking, brittle sound that echoed in the cavernous space. She crossed her arms over her chest, utterly convinced of her own untouchable superiority. “A homeless shelter? A taxi service? The hotel manager isn’t going to help you, Emily. Your father is a founding board member. They work for us.”
I didn’t answer her. I didn’t look at her. I kept my eyes fixed on the massive, sparkling crystal chandelier hanging above us.
I unlocked my phone and hit a specific speed dial number. It didn’t ring. It connected instantly on a secure, encrypted, priority executive line.
“Margaret,” I said.
My voice was no longer the quiet, hesitant tone of an unwanted sister. It was clear, resonant, and projected perfectly over the ambient noise of the lobby. It was the voice of a woman who commanded legions.
“This is Emily Parker.”
Madison rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck in her head. She let out a loud, dramatic groan, turning to her fiancé.
“Oh my god, Brandon, look at her,” Madison sneered, pointing a manicured finger at me. “She is so incredibly embarrassing. She’s pretending to call corporate. Emily, just stop. Stop pretending you have any power here. You’re making yourself look insane.”
I ignored the petulant child completely. I lowered my gaze, locking my eyes directly onto my mother’s arrogant, sneering face.
“Margaret,” I commanded into the phone, my voice dropping to a temperature that could freeze ocean water. “Please execute a system-wide override. Cancel all executive family privileges and corporate comps attached to Richard Parker’s master account. Effective immediately.”
Eleanor’s mocking smile faltered for a fraction of a second. She glanced at Richard, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features.
“Understood, Ms. Parker,” Margaret’s crisp, hyper-professional voice crackled clearly through the phone’s speaker.
Margaret wasn’t a receptionist. She was the Regional Director of Operations for the entire Southeastern seaboard of the Vesta Hospitality Group. And as of 9:00 AM yesterday morning, she was my direct employee.
“I will revoke the primary master account privileges and flag all associated sub-accounts for immediate deactivation,” Margaret continued flawlessly. “Shall I also cancel the current complimentary bookings and event holds under that specific profile?”
“Yes,” I said, not breaking eye contact with my mother. “All of them. Every single room, every catering contract, every bar tab. Purge the account.”
“Executing now, Ms. Parker. Is there anything else?”
“That will be all, Margaret. Thank you.”
I hung up the phone. The screen went black. I slipped the device smoothly back into the pocket of my dress.
The silence that followed was heavy, confused, and thick with a sudden, suffocating tension.
Richard snorted. It was a loud, ugly sound of complete, unadulterated hubris. He shook his head, looking at me with profound pity.
“Nice try, Emily,” Richard chuckled, stepping forward, aggressively invading my personal space. “That was a very cute little performance. But I am a founding board member of this corporation. My mother built this empire. No one, and I mean absolutely no one, is canceling my account.”
He turned his back on me, entirely dismissing my existence, and approached the bewildered front desk clerk who had been silently watching the entire exchange.
Richard reached into his designer leather wallet and pulled out a sleek, heavy, brushed-black metal card. It was the Vesta VIP Black Card, a symbol of ultimate, limitless corporate privilege within the hotel chain.
He slapped the heavy metal card down onto the marble counter with a loud, aggressive thack.
“Just ignore her, sweetheart,” Richard commanded the clerk, his voice booming with arrogant entitlement. “She’s having a bit of a mental episode. Give me the key cards to the Presidential Suite, and ensure the four adjoining ocean-view rooms are prepped and keyed for my daughter’s guests. And send a bottle of Dom Pérignon up immediately.”
The clerk, looking incredibly nervous, nodded quickly. She picked up the heavy black metal card and swiped it through the magnetic reader on her keyboard.
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