Chapter 5 - Behind the Golden Walls
Within fifteen minutes, department heads began gathering in the Grand Morgan Ballroom.
Most arrived confused.
The director of food services left a private lunch meeting. The housekeeping supervisor came directly from the twenty-second floor. The finance controller carried two phones and demanded to know why her accounts had suddenly been restricted.
Richard stood near the ballroom entrance, still wearing his soaked shirt.
Several executives passed him without recognizing him.
One woman handed him an empty glass.
“Take this to the kitchen.”
Richard accepted it quietly.
Daniel immediately stepped forward.
“That is Mr. Morgan.”
The woman stopped so abruptly that her shoes scraped the floor.
Richard handed the glass back.
“An easy mistake,” he said. “Especially in a place where uniforms appear to matter more than people.”
Inside the ballroom, more than sixty employees sat beneath enormous chandeliers. Rumors moved through the room faster than official information.
Some believed the hotel had been sold.
Others thought there had been a cyberattack.
A few senior employees had already learned the truth and sat in frightened silence.
Richard walked onto the stage.
The room gradually became quiet.
The manager followed several steps behind him, no longer confident enough to stand beside him.
Richard looked across the crowd.
“When I opened this hotel,” he began, “we had fewer rooms, cheaper furniture, and no international awards.”
He touched the old photograph in his pocket.
“But every person working here understood dignity.”
Nobody interrupted.
Richard asked the housekeeping staff to stand.
Dozens of workers rose slowly.
“How many of you have been forced to work unpaid hours?”
At first, no one responded.
The housekeeping supervisor crossed her arms.
Richard noticed several workers looking toward her before looking away.
He repeated the question.
This time, Maria raised her hand.
Then another cleaner.
Then five more.
Within seconds, nearly half the department had raised their hands.
The room filled with uneasy whispers.
Richard turned toward the restaurant employees.
“How many have had tips withheld?”
More hands rose.
“How many have been threatened for reporting harassment?”
Additional hands appeared.
“How many have been told that wealthy guests matter more than your safety?”
Nearly every hand in one section lifted.
The manager stepped forward.
“These complaints are being exaggerated.”
Richard looked at him.
“Sit down.”
The words were quiet, but the manager obeyed.
Daniel stood near the side wall, watching the faces of senior staff members. Some appeared afraid. Others looked angry—not at what had happened, but because hidden practices were being exposed.
Richard turned to the finance controller.
“Bring me the last three years of payroll records.”
She hesitated.
“That data is confidential.”
Richard raised an eyebrow.
“From the owner?”
Her expression tightened.
“The records are archived off-site.”
The IT technician checked his laptop.
“No, they aren’t.”
Everyone looked at him.
He turned the screen toward Richard.
“Someone tried to delete them twelve minutes ago.”
The ballroom fell silent again.
Richard’s eyes moved slowly across the executives.
“Who attempted it?”
The technician studied the access log.
His face changed.
“The command came from an account that officially does not exist.”
Richard stepped closer.
“What account?”
The technician swallowed.
“It’s labeled only as…”
May you like
He paused before reading the name aloud.
“Project Crown.”
