Chapter 4

By ten the next morning, three news vans were idling outside the Seaview, cameras pointed directly at our glass entrance.

Inside, Macy and I were laying out linen napkins along the massive wooden table.

"Evelyn Foster's booking gives her legal access the moment we unlock the doors at eleven," Macy said, her voice tight. "She's coming to stage a scene."

"Anyone who paid for a seat is allowed in," I replied. "She sits at the table like a guest. But she doesn't go near the elevators, and she doesn't see Lucy."

At ten-fifty, an obsidian town car pulled up to the curb.

Evelyn Foster stepped out, draped in her signature camel cashmere coat. She walked into the glass vestibule, her chin high, expecting the doors to part automatically.

When the sensor didn't trigger, she rapped her ring against the glass.

I unlocked the single side door, stepping into the vestibule to block the entrance.

"Erin, darling," Evelyn said, her voice dripping with polished pity. "This little tantrum has gone on long enough. Bring Lucy down so we can go home."

"You have a reservation for lunch, Evelyn," I said, my tone flat. "When the doors open at eleven, you can take a seat. You are not going upstairs."

Evelyn's smile vanished. Her gaze turned sharp and cold.

"You are destroying your marriage over a misunderstanding. Give me my daughter, and Noah can still salvage your reputation."

"My marriage is already over, Evelyn," I said. "Wait outside."

I stepped back, pulled the door shut, and turned the deadbolt.

Five minutes later, two black SUVs pulled up, aggressively boxing in the press vans.

Noah stepped out of the lead vehicle, buttoning his charcoal blazer. He walked straight toward the media barricade on the sidewalk.

"My sister is unwell," Noah announced into the microphones, projecting calm, protective sorrow. "She's been isolated here, but she's coming home today. We're here to welcome her back."

A voice spoke behind me. "He's telling them I asked for him."

I turned. Lucy was standing by the reception counter, her face pale, her hands shaking as she watched her brother through the window.

"You don't have to go out there, Lucy," I said gently. "You can go back to 412."

Lucy took a shuddering breath. "If I hide upstairs, they'll print his version. I have to look him in the eye and say no."

Daniel Cole walked out from behind the front desk, flanked by two hotel security guards in dark blazers.

"My guards are licensed for property protection inside this building," Daniel said, looking directly at me.

"They will hold the doorframe to keep Noah's contractors from crossing the threshold. But they will not step onto the municipal sidewalk, and they will not touch the press. Once that glass opens, whatever happens outside is on you."

"Hold the frame, Daniel," I said. "We'll handle the rest."

Lucy stepped up beside me, her back straightening.

Through the glass, Noah saw her. A tight smirk touched his lips. He raised his hand, signaling his four private security contractors to move in on the entrance.

Reporters surged forward, camera lenses pressing against the glass.

I placed my hand over the electronic console by the entrance.

"I only open this when you say," I told Lucy.

Lucy looked at Noah, then at the cameras, and finally at me.

"Open it," she said.