Sarah had been with him then.
Sarah had eaten gas station sandwiches with him.
Sarah had circled spelling errors on his first pitch deck with a red pen.
Sarah had held his hand the night their first investor walked away and told him, “You don’t look like the future of hospitality.”
She had laughed in the parking lot until he laughed too.
Then she said, “Good. Let’s build it anyway.”
And they did.
At least until cancer built a wall Ethan could not buy, fix, negotiate with, or break down.
Lupita opened the door.
Ethan said, “There will be a meeting at eight tomorrow morning. Main lobby.”
She nodded.
Then paused.
“Mr. Vance?”
“Ethan.”
She hesitated. “People like Robert always survive meetings.”
Ethan looked at the roses.
“Not this one.”
The next morning, the Grand Regent lobby looked different in daylight.
Not softer.
Exposed.
Sunlight hit the marble and showed every streak. The chandelier looked less magical and more mechanical. Guests lingered near the coffee stand, whispering after rumors spread overnight.
