“All of them?”

“All.”

“Housekeeping?”

“Especially housekeeping.”

“And Pierce?”

“Not a word.”

Camille smiled slowly.

“He has to think he won.”

“Yes.”

“What about Nia?”

Walter’s smile disappeared.

“She thinks she lost.”

“You’re going to call her.”

“No.”

“Dad.”

“If she knows, Bernice knows. Night crew knows. Pierce knows by six.”

“Then how do we get her there?”

Walter thought.

“HR transition meeting.”

Camille understood immediately.

“Anyone terminated this week signs final papers in person.”

“Exactly.”

“Eight forty-five?”

“Perfect.”

She stood.

“I’ll arrange it.”

Walter looked toward the snow.

Camille paused.

“What else?”

“Room 1107 has no heat.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“No.”

He looked at her.

“Tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because I want Pierce to tell me himself that nothing is wrong.”

Camille stared at her father.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“No.”

Then Walter smiled faintly.

“Maybe a little.”

At 7:15 a.m., Grant Pierce entered the Ashford in a new suit.

He had slept four hours.

Did not matter.

Today was his performance.

New ownership.

He had briefed every department.

Lobby marble polished twice.

Fire lit.

Flowers replaced.

Uniform inspections.

Room 1107 was finally given a heater at six thirty.

Pierce ordered the elderly couple comped for one night and placed in a taxi before eight thirty.

“Gone before the new owner arrives.”

Kyle nodded.

“No open issues.”

“No unpaid hours.”

Pierce looked directly at the night staff.

“Tomorrow everybody clocks in on time and out on time.”

Bernice almost laughed.

Pierce stared at her.

She did not.

He noticed Kyle checking his phone.

“That video still in staff chat?”

Kyle swallowed.

“I deleted it.”

“All copies?”

“Yes.”

Pierce smiled.

He had no idea Camille had saved it at 12:03 a.m.

Or that three employees had sent it elsewhere.

At eight twenty, Pierce saw the red scarf hanging from Nia’s former locker.

“That hers?”

“Yes.”

“Throw it away.”

Bernice took it down.

“I’ll handle it.”

Pierce continued walking.

She folded it carefully and put it in her bag.

At 8:42, Nia arrived.

No uniform.

Jeans.

Winter boots.

Her mother’s scarf.

Paula Reed from HR met her.

“Final check.”

Nia nodded.

“And COBRA forms.”

“That’s the insurance?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

Paula told her.

Nia’s face fell.

She could not afford it.

Not with therapy twice a week.

“Can you mail them?”

“New ownership wants every separation signed in person.”

Nia sighed.

She entered the hotel.

The lobby looked perfect.

Pierce saw her.

“What are you doing here?”

“HR.”

“You’re not an employee.”

“I know.”

“Then stay off my floor.”

Nia looked at the clock.

Eight forty-five.

The staff was assembling.

“What’s happening?”

“New owner.”

Something inside her tightened.

This was the man who would inherit everything Pierce had built.