Silver hair.
Calm expression.
He saw me.
“Maya.”
“James.”
“I heard about the fire.”
“So did everyone.”
“I came as soon as I could.”
“How thoughtful.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He looked around.
“What caused it?”
“An investigation is underway.”
He nodded.
“Of course.”
I studied him.
Fifteen years earlier, he had been the man standing beside my father.
The man who had invested in the company.
The man my father had trusted.
Now I wondered how much of that trust had been manufactured.
“James.”
“Yes?”
“Did you know about Room 417?”
His expression did not change.
“No.”
“You're lying.”
He smiled.
“You sound like your father.”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did you know my father kept records there?”
“I knew he had an office.”
“Interesting.”
He looked at me.
“What is?”
“You said you didn't know about the room.”
“I didn't.”
“But you knew he had an office.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your father told me.”
I stepped closer.
“And did he tell you what he kept there?”
“No.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
I watched his eyes.
No fear.
No guilt.
Nothing.
He was good.
Very good.
“James.”
“Yes?”
“Where were you the night my father died?”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
“I was at home.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“My wife.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
He looked confused.
“For what?”
“For answering.”
He turned to leave.
Then stopped.
“Maya.”
“Yes?”
“Your father was a complicated man.”
I stared at him.
“Don't.”
“He made enemies.”
“Don't.”
“He took risks.”
I stepped closer.
“If you ever speak about my father like that again, I'll make sure every document we have becomes public.”
His face hardened.
“You're threatening me.”
“No.”
I smiled.
“I'm warning you.”
He left.
Daniel walked toward me.
“You think he did it?”
“Yes.”
“Can we prove it?”
“Not yet.”
He handed me a folder.
“Maybe this helps.”
Inside was a financial report.
James had acquired shares in a private company fourteen years ago.
The company had then purchased several contractors that Bennett Hospitality used.
Over the next decade, millions flowed through those contractors.
I looked at the numbers.
“It wasn't just theft.”
“No.”
“He was positioning himself.”
“To control the supply chain.”
“And the board.”
Daniel nodded.
I closed the folder.
“He wanted to own us without buying us.”
Exactly what my father had predicted.
But there was something else.
A payment made two months before my father's death.
To a company called Northbridge Security Consulting.
I looked at Daniel.
“Who owns it?”
He searched.
Then frowned.
“Private.”
“Find the beneficial owner.”
He did.
His face changed.
“James.”
I stared.
“What was the company paid for?”
“Security consulting.”
“That's vague.”
“There are invoices.”
“For what?”
“Executive protection.”
I felt cold.
“Whose?”
Daniel opened the file.
“My father's.”
I stared.
“He hired security?”
“Yes.”
“But I never knew.”
“Neither did I.”
“Who provided the service?”
Daniel read the document.
“Northbridge.”
“Then why did my father die?”
“We don't know.”
I looked at the date.
The security contract began six months before his death.
It ended the day after.
I stared.
“Why would protection end the day after he died?”
Daniel didn't answer.
I already knew.
Because the person who needed protection was gone.
The contract had done something else.
It had given someone access.
“Find the guards.”
“We'll try.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Find every person who worked for Northbridge during that period.”
He nodded.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
“Hello?”
His expression changed.
He handed me the phone.
“It's Graham.”
I took it.
“Graham?”
His voice was barely audible.
“They know.”
“Who?”
“James.”
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Graham, listen to me.”
“No.”
“Then why did you call?”
“Because I found Evelyn's final file.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
“I'll send it.”
“Graham—”
The line went dead.
Thirty seconds later, an email arrived.
One attachment.
EVELYN_PRICE_FINAL
I opened it.
The file contained a single photograph.
Evelyn standing beside my father.
Behind them was a hotel.
Not Beaumont Crown.
A different property.
A hotel I didn't recognize.
Then I saw the sign.
THE CROWN HOTEL — DUBAI
I looked at Daniel.
“Dubai.”
“What?”
“My father had another secret.”
The Hotel in Dubai
The Crown Hotel in Dubai had closed twelve years ago.
Officially, it had been sold.
The buyer had demolished the property.
At least that was what the records said.
But when we arrived, the building was still there.
Abandoned.
Faded.
Surrounded by construction fencing.
Daniel stared through the windshield.
“This isn't possible.”
I looked at the building.
My father had stood here.
Evelyn had stood here.
Maybe the evidence was still here.
We entered through a broken side door.
The lobby was covered in dust.
Old furniture remained.
A chandelier hung from the ceiling.
The walls were stained.
But beneath the decay, I could still see the hotel my father had once imagined.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Forgotten.
Daniel checked the photograph.
“The room number?”
I zoomed in.
Behind Evelyn was a brass sign.
Executive Office.
We found it on the second floor.
The door was locked.
I tried the key from Beaumont.
Nothing.
Daniel examined the frame.
“There's another lock.”
I looked at the photograph.
Evelyn was holding something.
A small metal object.
A key.
I searched the image.
Then noticed the same number.